Episode One: The Oracle of Wi-Fi

       Jess, my blonde nemesis, entered the bathroom just as I was popping a zit.
       "Gross," she said as she looked incredulously in my direction, one eye already admiring her outfit in the mirror, "No wonder why you can't get a date."
       I wiped the zit juice from the mirror with my finger and fought the urge to wipe it on her sleeve.
       "I have standards," I noted. "I don't sleep with every thing that bathes itself in body spray."
       She turned both furious eyes to me as her lips snarled like a pit bulls' around the cage of her retainer. I thought that perhaps I might have crossed a line.
       She threw a tampon at me.
       Manly man though I may be, I shrieked and jumped back and watched the tampon hit the floor in front of me.
       My sister burst out laughing at my shriek. Her laughs bounced around our communal bathroom as I looked around for something to throw back at her.
       Before I could grab the half full toilet paper roll, however, Jess stopped laughing so suddenly that I thought she must have choked on her own bile. I turned, hoping to see her turning blue and gasping for air, but instead the color drained from my face.
       Jess was frozen, like in rigor mortis, with her face composed still in mid-laugh. But she wasn't a statue. She was still breathing. And to make matters even stranger, her retainer was pulsing with a blue light. I took an involuntary step back.
       Jess's face calmed and changed to a blank stare. She was serene, but in some sort of post-hypnotic trance or sleepwalking face or something. I reached out to touch her, maybe shake her awake, but before I could reach her, she started to speak.
       "Your toast will be burnt," she said in an otherwordly voice. It wasn't Jess's voice, even if her lips had formed the words. The voice had a vaguely Indian accent - like a telemarketer had seized control of her vocal chords.
       Then her lips changed into a round shape, like she was about to suck on a lollipop and she made a machine tone, "Boop."
       "Jess?" I asked hesitantly.
       "At 9:10, a four car pile up will cause a thirty minute delay on I-15. There will be no casualties. You will reroute to avoid delays."
       "Jess... you're freaking me out. Stop whatever it is that you're doing."
       "Boop. The Dow Jones Industrial Average will close down 35 points today on late word that terrorists have seized control of an Iranian oil platform in the Gulf. These terrorists will be eliminated by Navy Seal sharp shooters ten days from now."
       I turned to call downstairs for help, but stopped when I heard another Boop. I looked back.
       "Somebody close to you will die today."
       And then, still looking at me, Jess started laughing again - picking up in mid-laugh, right where she'd left off.

To be continued...