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By Anna Roth
As we all turned to Kira, I joked, "Kill the people on the right."
"But," continued Matt, half kidding, "I can't really get things off the ground until the comic book is ready."
John, it seems, is designing some campaign propaganda in comic-book format that pits Matt Gonzalez against renowned street fighter Terence Hallinan.
"I think I'm in good hands here," joked Matt. "I've got the tarot card reader. I've got the fucking comic book writer."
"Tell me," I asked, "what percentage of your net worth are you risking on this campaign?"
Just then the doorbell rang and we were joined by some unexpected guests -- Matt's brother, Chuck, and Chuck's girlfriend, Liz. The pair make up two-fourths of local band Lessick's Kid, named after one of Micheline's short stories.
The main course was a fresh angel hair pasta with John's own roasted red pepper and tomato sauce. Some fresh bread and a salad rounded out the meal.
After dinner Chuck and Liz broke out their guitars and favored us with a few fine tunes, several of which were Micheline poems set to music with Jack's permission before his death.
Kira, we realized, had long since disappeared, and was apparently preparing her tarot cards in the other room. As John served up a mixed berry mousse cake, which Matt had brought from Sweet Temptations, I yelled down the hall, "Hey, Kira. We see some dessert in your future."
"Careful who you're making an enemy of there," counseled Matt.
Kira rejoined us to prognosticate on my person. Much like my first tarot reading experience, most of the cards did not suggest roses and sunshine. The difference was that Kira went on to offer some very specific, spot-on commentary on me and my life -- past, present, and future. It was actually a little too close for comfort.
Matt, my new lawyer, intervened on my behalf. "Now, Kira, with all respect, he came in here tonight and he gave us a bunch of information about himself. How do we know you're not just gleaning from what he's already said?"
It was too much. Kira the Good Witch finally bubbled over, proclaiming -- to everyone's delight -- "Matt, you're such a fucking lawyer!"
As the evening wound down I once again posed the question to myself: What do you get when you mix a lawyer, a witch, and an artist?
Well, I got a goopy handmade spice jar and a fix-your-life candle from Kira, an elephant drawn on a piece of wood with a bent nail for a trunk from John, a copy of Jack Micheline's book from Matt, and, all in all, an awfully enjoyable evening.
By Barry Levine
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