A few weeks ago my wife asked me if I wanted to go see a Voodoo Lassie. I call her that because I have no idea if she is a medium, a witch, or what she is. I said sure. A lot, well, six other friends were going so I looked forward to having a good night out. Then I forgot all about it.
So the day arrives and I am reminded that we were going to see the Voodoo Lassie. This called for a quick change, clean jeans, nice shirt and a tweed jacket. We are heading north to Plymouth, I am told, so the jacket could be a good idea. I have heard the Yeti lives up there in the snow.
In the car I put the directions into my cell phone and find it is an hour and a half drive to get to Plymouth. A long drive north. I ask my wife if I need my passport but am told we will still be in New Hampshire.
Well finally we get to Plymouth and meet up with our friends at the Common Man Restaurant. I didn’t think much to the food, I said I did to keep the peace, but am not in a hurry to go back. Then I find out we are going to see the Voodoo Lassie at a place called The Flying Monkey. Well. The night is looking up.
Of course when we get to the Flying Monkey there is no parking to be had so we end up driving round. I did suggest that we just go home and that the Voodoo Lassie, if she is any good, will know that we came, couldn’t park so went home. That idea went down like a lead balloon.
We did eventually find parking just up the street from the Flying Monkey. There were no sidewalks so we braved walking on a road full of people in cars looking for someplace to park.
The Flying Monkey is just like a lot of small town movie theaters except for one thing. When you go in the concessions are right there in front of you. Hot food, beer, wine and candy all lovingly displayed drew me straight into the line. I reached the front and looked at the wines they were offering and opened my mouth to order when a poke in my back and a whispered “Don’t forget you are driving” turned the glass of wine into a box of Cow Tails.
I then followed wifie down into the theater and to our seats in the middle of the 5th row. Nice and close to the stage. Can’t miss a thing and can be seen from the stage so have to behave myself. I looked around and found that the theater was filling up. Everyone except me here to get a message from the dead. I can’t think why your dead parent would want to come back for a chat. They have put up with you for all the years, talking to you all that time, so why do they want to come back for a chat? No. They should be enjoying a bit of peace and quiet instead of wondering how the Patriots are doing.
Right on time some gentleman comes out on stage and introduces the Voodoo Lassie who then comes out on stage. No music or drum rolls. She just walks out and plonks herself in front of the microphone. She is a pleasant looking lady. Nice smile with a voice that I know is going to lull me to sleep pretty dam quick. She is dressed in some sort of body suit with a light, flowing dressing gown type cover that seems to float behind her when she walks.
She starts the show with a brief intro, explaining for those ignoramuses, like me, what is going to happen and how the evening will go then she gets into it.
“I have a spirit here” she starts, then waffles on describing who the spirit wants to talk with until a woman behind me puts up her hand and says she knows who he is. While this is going on I nudge my wife. “Where is the spirit?” I ask. “What spirit?” “You know. The spirit who is here. There is only her up there. How do we know who the spirit is if he doesn’t show up?” “Be quiet and listen.” I was hoping it would be like a Christmas Carol with ghosts popping in and out to chat. Oh well. I opened the box of Cow Tails.
This first woman certainly got the room going. You could feel the change. Suddenly everyone was at attention waiting to see if they would know the next spirit. As the show went on there would quite often be two or three people claiming to know who was coming through. These people were quickly and gently whittled down to one then off we went again.
I did start to nod off once but gave that up after getting an elbow in the ribs. “What?” I said. “I wasn’t snoring.” I looked at my friend next to me. He was sleeping.
My attention was drawn back to the show when the Voodoo Lassie started looking for someone who knew a spirit who had three dogs. One woman was up quick with a “That’s my uncle” when someone else jumped up. The conversation went something like, “I know him. With my three daughters.” “No. He has three dogs on leads. He walks them everywhere.” “No. It’s my three daughters.” “Definitely three dogs.” and with that the woman sat down again. I felt sorry for her daughters. Fancy having a mother that can’t tell the difference between you and a dog.
The show was winding down when she started looking for someone who knew a spirit that had been in the air force. No one was owning up to knowing him and I started to feel sorry for him. Fancy showing up and having no one to talk to. I nudged my wife. “I know it’s not my father but I think it might be brother Malcolm.” “What are you talking about? Mal is not dead.” “Well I hope not.” “So it can’t be him.” “Well maybe his cell phone has no signal and he needs to contact me.” “Oh. God. Shut up and behave. Don’t be standing up.” Just then some guy stood up and claimed the spirit. I was a bit disappointed.
Well the show finished and we swapped the safety of Flying Monkey for the death defying walk back to the car. On the way home I was asked what I thought about the show. I said that I thought the first woman was a ringer to get folks going and after that everyone was just eager to know the spirit and that it was a load of bull. I spent the rest of the journey home hunched in my seat in a disapproving
silence.
Will I go to another one? Sure. It is a night out and I get to have a dinner that I didn’t cook.