"Don't Go Smelling Like a Rabbit"

Chapter Six.

I'm psychic.

When I was in the first grade at Mrs. Frybarger’s Kindergarten there was a girl in the 2nd who was the snottiest, most self-centered, obnoxious little girl in the whole world.

Bonnie Smith (no relation to Nancy) was rich, too, and lived in a big house with a lake (albeit a tiny one) in her front yard.

Anyone with a lake in their front yard automatically had to be snotty. What? They couldn’t keep it in back like the rest of the world? They had to show it off?

We were in the same carpool. Now, I never felt she was any better than I was and couldn't understand why she was in 2nd grade (obviously better) and I was only in the 1st.

Never mind she was a year older.

I used to tell her, "Someday I'll catch up with you!"

She always looked at me like I was nuts and went right on being her snooty little Miss Lakefront self.

To my glee she moved away at the end of that year.

Years later during the summer between my 4th and 5th grades, the phone rang.

I answered it and “Spanky” Benthul was on the line asking to speak to the a.m.. The instant I heard his voice I knew...knew, mind you...that I was going to skip the 5th grade. That's not so easy because I didn't know you could do such a thing.

But I knew it was about to happen to me.

It turned out I was partly right. I would go from the 4th to the 6th grade but I would have to study 5th grade subjects at home during the summer and convince “Spanky” I had learned sufficiently to allow the step up.

The a.m. taught me everything except mathematics, which were handled by Dr. Jim Cronin, professor of Greek and Latin at Southern Methodist University, a dear friend of the family and colleague of my godmother.

My reward for learning everything was a trip to California and Disneyland which had just opened to the world. Mind you, the trip was mainly so the a.m. could visit a dear childhood friend in Los Angeles, but it was reward enough for me.

We arrived at Disneyland in its second month of operation.

It was absolutely thrilling.

Lesson: Do your homework.

After the summer, and on the first day of sixth grade, I went to my assigned home-room. Sitting in the 1st chair of the 2nd row was a face I hadn't seen for years. I walked up to the girl and calmly said "I told you I'd catch up to you!" and went and sat down at the back of the classroom. When the teacher called the roll I just smiled and felt so self satisfied.

Until she heard my name, I don't think the lady of the lake had any idea who I was or what I was talking about, but I had fulfilled my pledge.

Later that day an announcement was made over the P.A. system that children living on one side of a particular street would continue to come to school there at Preston Hollow Elementary and the rest would start classes at a brand new school: George B. Dealey Elementary.

Bonnie was in the Dealey group.

In the entire time/space continuum, I had only one hour-long window of opportunity to find her and validate my prediction.

Another example of my "psychic" ability took place the second time I went to Europe, in 1966.

I was having a pint at a pub across from the Café Des Artistes, my usual hangout in Kensington in London, England. My group included a cute woman from Wales named Maureen. I was "chatting her up", as we used to say, telling her I was psychic and could read palms. She extended hers and I examined it slowly and professionally-like. Then I said, "Hmmm, you've had a cold recently".

"That's right! How did you know that? Where'd you see that?” she asked.

I pointed out some area of her palm that looked like it would have said she'd had a cold recently and she actually bought it as she wiped the smudge away.

Lesson: Sometimes you have to tell ‘em what they want to hear.

But, it got her attention and ultimately got her to come back to my bedsitter a block away for an in-depth reading.

A bedsitter is a one room flat, or sleeping room, in a house that's been modified. You sleep in the beds at night and sit on them as couches during the day. There's usually a hot plate for minor cooking and a shared bathroom down the hall.

Though they think differently, there is no toilet paper in all of England.

Maureen was on my roommate's bed and I was on the other. Candles around the room had been lit and the mood was set. I explained that I did readings from the vibes I pick up from the people I'm around, and commenced.

General things: some hits, some misses. Mostly baloney, but impressive enough to maintain her interest until something really did seem to "come to me".

I said she was loved by a fella, far away from London, but she didn't love him. His name began with "T" I said.

"Tex begins with T", she pointed out. It was my nickname in Europe.

"No, this guy's name is Terry", I told her. I was surprised at how sure I was of it, too.

Mind you, I'd just met the woman that night, not much more than an hour and a half earlier, and hadn't spoken to her at all on a personal level.

She gasped.

I took this as encouragement and went on: "But there's something wrong with him. It's as if he's blind or has a finger missing...something like that".

She gasped again. And explained that her ex-boyfriend was named Terry, he was back home in Carmarthen, Wales, and was deeply and madly in love with her but she "didn't want to know"-it was now over. Then: he was blind in one eye and had the top half of his thumb missing!

Even I was impressed.

We went back to the pub to tell of my success. We never consummated any relationship other than to become good friends.

Later, in the '80's I invented the fine art of reading lip imprints. I may not have actually invented it, but it came to me independent of any outside influences or study.

It began with Sharon Hendricks, my agent in Houston. She always had a huge Styrofoam cup of coffee on her desk in the morning with a humongous red lipstick imprint on the rim.

I used to teasingly pick up her cup, scrutinize the imprint, offer up a few Uhhh hmmmmm's and "I seeeee" and "Ahhhh Hahhhhhh".

She'd go "Whaaaaat?", but I never let on.

Then one day I went through the routine and she ventured that I was pulling her leg and that I really couldn't read anything in her lip prints. This time I picked up the cup, examined the print more closely and said,"You're on the verge of making one of the biggest decisions of your life right now, today actually, and I think you've just made it. You're moving."

She was flabbergasted. She had, indeed, just that morning, decided to move from Houston to Dallas.

Turns out I'm pretty good at lip prints, but have to be in a receptive mood for it to be effective.

Most people I've "read" say I'm right on the money.

Unfortunately, I can't comfortably see anything for myself. I can't see my future, clearly. If I do get some kind of premonition, I always second guess it and convince myself it's my imagination working overtime.

One premonition I have is this: Beware the "Third Day of Fire"!

I believe the 1st and 2nd Days of Fire were the 2 days we let loose the power of the atom on Japan. The 3rd time something like that happens will be the one to watch out for.

Armageddon?

LESSON: Trust you instincts.