Tamsin Constable

Sheng Fooey

I should have run out into the rain, bought some greasy chips and kissed the nearest bus driver. Anything to get back to reality.

I’d been invited, as a writer, to listen in on some presentations on feng shui in business. You know the stuff – water your plants, open the curtains, tidy your files etc and see your business thrive (get richer, basically, but without sounding so greedy).

I got a coffee, wandered in and introduced myself to the nearest delegate.

“Hello!” she said, all bright-eyed and earnest. “I work on DNA.”

Brilliant! I tuned in.

“Ninety per cent of your DNA is junk,” she continued.

I got ready to hear the latest scientific theories on this.

“I clear that junk DNA out of people,” she said.

“What do you mean, clear it?”

“I can get rid of your bad DNA for five generations past, and five generations into the future.”

Her wide, unblinking eyes bored into mine. I felt like Mowgli out of the Jungle Book when the python tries to hypnotise him, its eyes spinning as it hisses, “Trust in me…”

Briefly lost for words, I eventually said, “And how do you do that?”

Her gaze still locked on mine, she knowingly tapped a spot on the nape of her head.

And then I knew for sure that I was in for a treat that day. And my coffee hadn’t even gone cool.

Leave a Reply