Editor’s Note: This article is purely satirical and fictitious. All attributions in this article are not genuine, and this story should be read in the context of pure entertainment only.

Greetings, my wisdom-seeking wards! Now, you might know that Donald Trump withheld federal funding on my astrological research. While this did cause me to miss last month’s horoscopes, I guarantee no mortal could ever stifle my divine truths. They will never take me alive, and I will never take away your horoscopes. 

Aries

This month, Saturn will enter Aries. So, about your test results… Actually, just forget about that and grab an ice cream cone.

Taurus

Looking for your room key? Find it within a raccoon’s carcass outside FloMo. You’re lucky I did the hard work of tracking it for you. And before you say anything, I found the raccoon in that state.

Gemini

Congrats on satisfying your Ethical Reasoning WAYS! Celebrate with some much-deserved fun at your Lockheed Martin internship this summer. 

Cancer

Not for centuries have I seen this fate — you will kill your father and lay with your mother. Who knew you would come home for Mother’s Day?

Leo

I see white smoke rising above Venus! Congratulations on the promotion, your Holiness. And this Indica-Sativa blend slaps like a schoolteacher nun.

Virgo

I see black smoke rising above Mercury!  Your dorm is burning down as we speak. Breathe, put down this paper, and scream “Fire!” at the Stanford Shakespeare Company’s production of “Romeo and Juliet”, performed at 8 p.m. each night from May 22 to 24. Any showing will do. 

Libra

Uh-oh! The Sun is trine to Pluto. Expect Donald Trump to levy tariffs against your co-op. 

Scorpio

Mars approaches. After winning an online chess match against an anonymous stranger, he will identify himself as a South African-born entrepreneur and wire transfer $420.69 to bear his next child. 

Sagittarius

Blues and reds flash across the sky! The police lie in wait for the night your bike light dies mid-ride. Stay one step ahead by defunding the police.

Capricorn

This month you become a real American by writing comedy for The Stanford Review. I’m so sorry that they published it as news! 

Aquarius

This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius! Find yourself. Lose yourself. Touch yourself. 

Pisces

Can I confess something?

Last week, I saw a chicken tender that reminded me of you — the warmth like your fingers laced in mine, the breading like the folds of your skin — and I cried. I haven’t seen you since March. I sobbed into my Coca-Cola, buried my face in the crumbs on my hands, shaking, sputtering… until I realized chicken could be my path back to you.

I drew plans on my napkin and marched down to Chick-Fil-A’s headquarters. I took out student loans to franchise at a small spot in Tresidder. I was up before the dawn strangling hens and shoving potatoes in a waffle maker, letting my grades slip as I rang up customers between sections and seminars, all in the waning hope that one day you’d tap your credit card against my register and I could whisper, “Thank you, come again.”

I ran this Chick-Fil-A for a month, and I ran it for one reason: to see you. It means nothing that I entered Forbes’ 30 under 30. Those guys are hacks. And I don’t even like chicken (I’m vegetarian). No, every night before closing I’d pour strawberry lemonade and stare at the faint green light from your dorm, reaching out towards it with my hand and wondering why you hadn’t approached me yet. After all, the one thing you love more than rock climbing is chicken fingers, right?

But then I realized what a fool I’d been! The one thing you love more than chicken fingers is women. I should’ve known; we’re both lesbians. You dogmatically avoid Chick-Fil-A. You said you loved Raising Cane’s, not the other one. Shit.