Jester On the way to work, a strange thing happened. I was late, again, and was in a hurry. I took the same route I always took, down West street, turn left in to Montpelier street, then right into Market street, that’s where he was. The street was deserted save for me and him, it was a early spring day, moderately fresh, and bright. I was in jeans and a jacket, normal sort of wear for me, he was wearing…. Well, this is where it gets a little strange! He was wearing, how can I put it, a joker suit, I think that’s about it, or to be more precise, a Jester’s costume, bright red and yellow. His pants were like riding jodhpurs, a matching top and hat, all in a large chequered effect. He stood there, on one leg, his left foot rested on the inside of his right calf, his right hand lay face down, palm opened pointing to his left hand, which was the same, but upon his left palm there lay a pack of bright green playing cards, face down. His face was a beaming grin, his lips over accentuated by bright red face paint, as where his eyes. He was looking straight at me. “Pick a card” he said, “What?” I replied, somewhat confused. “Pick a card.” He replied. “Look, I’m in a hurry, please, excuse me.” I was trying to be polite. Again, “Pick a card.” “Sorry, I have to go” I made to walk around him; it was obvious he was not going to move. “Pick a card, Peter”, he said again. “Do I know you?” I asked, confused that he knew my name. “No, but I know you,” a wry grin seem to pucker his right cheek, ”Pick a card, Peter White.” “Look, I don’t have time for this,” I said, “I’m late” “Pick a card.” I decided that perhaps it would be better to go with it, perhaps if I took a card he would go away, and I could get to work. “Ok,” I said. He picked up the cards and fanned them out, his eyes never left me for one moment. I thought to hell with this, just push past him, tell him to get lost and get away from this fool, leave him standing there, get to work. I took a card. “Look at it,” he said,” don’t tell me what it is though, or we’ll have to start again”. I looked at the card. “Now, mark the card, any way you wish.” “What?” “Mark the card” I reached into my pocket and took out a pen; I marked the card with a single number. “Now, place it back into the pack” he said, so I did. “Thank you,” he said, “Take care now,” then he was gone. I cannot say where he went, which direction, not even a puff of smoke, one minute he was there, the next, he was gone, and suddenly there were people, I had not noticed them before. I looked at my watch, 35 minutes late now, going to be in real trouble. I set off again. As I neared the corner of Market Street and Lantern Road, I was aware that there was a lot of commotion, A police car blocked of the entrance to Lantern Road. In the distance I could see that a bus had collided with a car and swerved off the road, and crashed into a shop, my shop. I approached the wreckage, a policeman stopped me. “That’s my shop” I said. “Really?” he said, “not a lot left of it. You are so lucky not to have been here, the whole place collapsed like a pack of cards. Had you been in there… well..” His words trailed off, something caught my attention. Caught on piece of metal protruding from the bus was something I recognised. It was a playing card, a Joker, dressed in red and yellow. Written on the card in ink was a single digit, number 3, I also recognised the handwriting. I looked up, the bus was tipped slightly on its side, but the number was clearly visible, number 3. I took the rest of the day off.