Thomas strolled into the Chinese restaurant, high on the thought of shrimp fried rice. His doctor would chastise him for this, seeing as his cholesterol was sky-high and his weight just tipped the scales at 350, but the thought was quickly overcome by the joy of the day.
When his belly was swollen with MSG, he leaned backed and gazed out the window. The sky was pregnant with darkening clouds. The waitress wandered over.
“Chinese horoscope predict unstable days ahead. Hopefully, fortune cookie will help,” she said. Chuckling already, he grabbed it. He cracked it open and unfolded his fortune. It had only one word on it: FAILURE.
Lightning split the clouds asunder and the skies opened.
“What kind of crap fortune is this?” He showed the waitress the tiny scrap of paper. She quickly scurried off.
He shook his head, upset that a mere word could invoke such a response. He threw the fortune onto his dirty plate and prepared to leave. As he stood, pain ripped through his chest and he fell to the floor.