Now this is something I don't understand. Cleo is supposed to be one of the best psychics in the world and knows everything just by asking your name and birthday. So why is she making nationwide commercials practically begging people to call her? You'd think with that kind of "psychic power" she'd only help celebrities who are willing to pay $500 a minute to talk to her.
A typical conversation between Miss Cleo and a sex-depraved psychic-believing freak might look like this:
Jane: Miss Cleo?
Cleo: How are ya sweetheart.
Jane: I have a problem.
Cleo: What is it my love?
Jane: I have a problem....
Cleo: Are you having a problem with your love life honey?
Jane: Yes! How on earth did you know Miss Cleo?
Cleo: I had a hunch, baby doll.
Jane: Okay, here's how it goes. My significant other is dumping me because he always complains that when we have sex I overpower him. You see, I weigh 400 pounds, and.....
Cleo: Go on, sweet cheeks.
Jane: Not only that, but whenever I take a crap in the bathroom, he complains that the smell takes 5 hours to go away. He said that once he had to take a piss, but the bathroom smelled so bad that he had to go in the bushes in the front yard. Some local oriental kids saw him and started pointing and laughing. They also threw water balloons at him! And now he says this is my fault. This seems like a desperate situation, but I'm starting to get a little crush on our postal worker.
Cleo: Let me guess angel face, your new object of affection is a man?
Jane: Oh my gosh! Miss Cleo, you are so amazing! How do you do it?
Cleo: The tarot cards never lie, baby.
Jane: I certainly am convinced! Thanks for all your help.
*beeeeep*
I'm sure we're all pretty familiar with that one. You know what though? It'd be funny to play a prank on her. If I did, it would go something like this:
Me: Hi.
Cleo: Hey there darling, tell me your name and birthday and I'll give you your free reading.
Me: My name is Quagmire and my birthday is April 20th, 1969.
Cleo: Oh my! A frisky one you are.
Me: There's something I want to tell you....
Cleo: Let me get out your tarot cards. Whoops, I thought I already took the joker card out of the deck. Hold on a sec...
Me: I love you....you're my wildest sexual fantasy Miss Cleo.
Cleo: Your reading says that you....WHAT?!?
Me: I tape your commercials and watch them over and over, and when I do I'm perpetually masturbating.
Cleo: (gasping for breath)
Me: I want to come down to the radio station from which you are currently broadcasting. How I yearn to meet you and do unmentionable things with your turban!
Cleo: Oh, glorious day! Now I can retire of this fake psychic network and will no longer have to advise these pathetic losers!
Me: Guess what else?
Cleo: What is it my love?
Me: I was joking. I've been pulling your leg this whole time. Did you seriously think I was attracted to you? That is so funny....I think I shall laugh at that. Ha ha ha!!
Cleo: Why you evil, vile, bit**y f***ing sh**head piece of mother f***ing a**hole!! Just for that, I'm not going to give you advice on your love life! In fact, I'm going to tell my comrades from the psychic friends network never to help you either. Now you shall be forever punished by being no longer able to contact us with your pathetic problems! Hoo-hah!
Me: Oh no. Woe is me.
*beeeeeeep*
So you see my friends, psychic people are about as useful as pigeon feces. So do us all a favor and never call them, unless you're a bored 12-year old and wish to play a prank for your own amusement. Good day everyone, I'm out.
~Poopflinger