Sister Mary Margaret, a devoted and mildly curious nun, “was waiting for her flight to Chicago in the hubbub and confusion of the airport”. She was sitting in a scuffed seat in the terminal, her calm demeanor an oasis of peace amid the turbulent currents of passengers. Her attention shifted to an intriguing device that was hidden in a corner of the room, a mysterious weight machine that allegedly held the keys to one’s future.
As Sister Mary Margaret made the decision to give this mysterious oracle a nickel, her skepticism and curiosity clashed. She put money into the machine and got a card with the startling prognosis, “You’re a nun. You will be traveling to Chicago, Illinois, and you weigh 128 pounds. She contemplated the implications of this cryptic declaration as her amusement danced with a hint of anxiety.
“Sister Mary Margaret gave the machine another nickel in an effort to brush the incident off as a casual coincidence. The message on the card this time changed to the absurd”: “You’re a nun. You are 128 pounds. You’re planning to perform on a fiddle in Chicago, Illinois”.
The nun laughed, but it was mixed with skepticism. “A violin? She thought to herself, “I’ve never even picked up a string. She was distracted from her thoughts by a tough cowboy who appeared out of nowhere and placed a fiddle case next to her. Her fingers began to play the strings as quickly as she could before she had time to properly digest the bizarre meeting.
Sister Mary Margaret’s pulse was pounding as she regarded the fiddle in her hands. She asked out loud, “What kind of sorcery is this?” She said, “I must understand,” as she switched her attention back to the weight machine.
The nun deposited another nickel and pulled out a card with determination and a tinge of mischief as her heart was racing. She was shocked by the forecast, which read, “You’re a nun, you weigh 128 lbs., you’re going to Chicago, Illinois, and you’re going to break wind.”
Sister Mary Margaret let out a gasp and grabbed the card, her cheeks flaming with shame. Under her breath, she exclaimed, “Preposterous!” But the universe seemed to be working against her; as a result of a careless slip, much to her embarrassment, she found herself falling from the scale with an unanticipated toot.
Sister Mary Margaret slunk back into her chair and threw a suspicious glance at the recalcitrant weight machine, as though the cosmos delighted in its comic timing. She firmly proclaimed, “No more,” with a determined tone in her voice.
But since curiosity was such a tenacious animal, it called to her once more. Sister Mary Margaret approached the machine with her final nickel and a mixture of anxiety and humor. “You’re a nun, you weigh 128 lbs., you have fiddled and farted around and missed your flight to Chicago!!!” were the words on the card as she picked it up, her heart pounding as she read them out loud.
Her melodious hilarity reverberated throughout the terminal as a chorus of giggles burst from her lips. The excitement that emanated from the mysterious nun and her dance with destiny drew the tourists nearby, who couldn’t help but join in.
Sister Mary Margaret thus found herself with a story that would be laughed at and smiled at for years to come – a tale of fiddles, farts, and a trip to Chicago that took a most unexpected diversion – as the weight machine’s forecasts receded into the realm of silly memories.