Starting next Thursday, every walk you go on will automatically be a Cancer Walk.
An unexpected visitor will wake you in the middle of the night, rush you to the bathroom, and leave you bloodied and scared. Congratulations, you’re a woman now.
The stars indicate that it will be bigger than a bread box, smaller than a dump truck, and just about as angry as most baboons can get.
The Bible will stop the bullet dead in its tracks, though why you keep it fastened to your genitals like that is anyone’s guess.
Punctuality has never been your strong suit. Keep those at work from finding out with a series of diversionary explosions this week.
You’ll fall for the oldest trick in the book, which is rather sad, as it’s the one where everything comes together in the end.
No matter what path you ultimately take, or what choices you ultimately make, this week will still end with you being shot out of a cannon.
Remember: Women like to be charmed, and wooed, and romanced from time to time, you unbelievable slut.
A mixture of horror and impatience will be yours this week when you become the latest victim of the Doesn’t Really Know What He’s Doing Killer.
Surviving this week will hinge heavily on the bear’s ability to understand English, his grasp of such higher concepts as mercy, and whether or not you’ll let go of that honey.
People and places from your past will come rushing back this week, thanks to a sudden hemorrhage of the temporal lobe.
Either the whole thing is just one big coincidence, or they named a deadly species of bloodsucking parasite after you for a reason.
