The stars were considering warning you about next Friday, but they’ve decided it would be funnier if you found out about the goats yourself.
The world will still turn and the sun will still rise next week, proving that they can do so perfectly well without you.
Despite what everyone keeps telling you, love will not help you heal yourself. Instead, use hatred to hurt others.
Cancer tried to give you a horoscope this week but was repeatedly interrupted by Orion’s incessant whining about not being a member of the Zodiac.
Stop referring to phone calls as “telephographic missives.” Please. I mean it.
You don’t know why everyone teased you when you told them about your dream in which John Wayne was wearing a dress. After all, he was wearing the dress, not you.
Strangely, no one will thank you for your efforts in pointing out factual errors in children’s books.
You will be both espaliered and pleached next week, which is strange, as you are not a fruit tree.
You will finally meet the man of your dreams, proving once and for all that you have dull, ugly dreams.
Capricorn would like to formally apologize for contradicting your Sunday fortune cookie. It won’t happen again.
When you said in a fit of despair that “everyone hates me,” you forgot about Sally Carruthers of East Lansing, MI, who hasn’t heard of you yet.
You will continue to wrestle with the difficult question of whether elephants are real.
