[Doc Faustus]

During my first year with my girlfriend, a clerical error and terrible advice from my faculty advisor left me accidentally withdrawn from school and stuck at my home in Pennsylvania. I was told I should come up and straighten things up and should take some time to reconstruct my Plan of Concentration. My parents could not get me up there, but my girlfriend decided to plan a rescue. This endeared me to no end. I was hoping I could find some money around the town, but there hadn't been anything workwise. With a heavy heart, I realized she would be arriving on Valentine's Day.
I knew I needed to get her a gift so I wandered through the town with my tarot deck, checking every business that might be friendly until I found a hair salon. The lady who ran the salon was quite excited and said she needed some advice, so I gave her a reading. My tarot deck had always been jinxed. Somehow anybody who touched the thing would end up having their darkest secrets revealed to me and their current question ignored. The deck had discovered cancer, infidelity, suicidal depression and all manner of horrors. "Be good , Lucille," I begged the cards. They were not. Within three cards, I realized this woman was cheating on her husband. I tried to imply other possibilities, but it was a bust. By the end of the reading, I knew pretty much everything but the guy's name. I talked to the woman about this for an hour and she laid down twenty more dollars for another reading, which gave her advice on the situation she sought advice on. With my hardearned thirty dollars, I went to the County Market and bought a heartshaped cheesecake and a single rose. When she arrived to pick me up, I proudly presented my gifts and she knew how much I loved her on account of my day following the path of my gypsy ancestors.