I got a fortune cookie the other day that wasn’t really a fortune, but more like advice. This happens to me sometimes. The best fortunes, in my opinion, predict the future, as a good cookie should. But more often than not, I end up with a platitude. “Good things come to those who wait.” Yeah, I want to say, but are good things coming my way or what? When, cookie, when?!
This is what I got:
All right, I thought. I’ll get right on that. I kept the fortune for posterity but I didn’t, you know, do anything with my loose ends.
Next time I had Chinese, I got this:
Oh, God, cookie, I don’t know! I looked over my shoulder for my problem, was it here in the restaurant? An assassin of some sort?
Tell us, renowned 12apostrophes readers, your disconcerting fortune cookie stories.
p.s. Everyone knows that to have good luck, you have to save your fortune cookie until the end of the meal. The very end, mind you. Pick your fill of sesame chicken from the lettuce on your plate before you crack open that fortune and taste the cookie, because there’s no turning back after that, or else you’ll have bad luck. Or a bossy fortune cookie.