Scorpio (24 October – 22 November)
Silver Linings to Ghosthood for the Soon-to-Be Deceased (cough, sorry):
(1) Intangibility is the tits—no more stubbed toes!
(2) One of the little girls in the house you’re haunting for the next few centuries? She sleepbreakdances.
Sagittarius (23 November – 21 December)
You design a trick-or-treating app that allows kids to rate houses on the quality and quantity of sweets handed out, and to post candy-snatcher sightings (denoted by bicycle icons) and shady character warnings (razor blades) for easy evasion. The app nets you millions, but now that word is out re: your homemade candy corn and sacks of pennies, the doorbell never rings.
Capricorn (22 December – 20 January)
The shuffle function on your device fails, forcing you to listen to songs in their intended orders, the sequences their creators slaved over. (The horror!) Artists you thought you loved, you hate. Artists you liked, you love. Albums you swore by, you never even knew. History isn’t kind to the shuffle, which, in hindsight, evokes a glassy-eyed party guest, commandeering the stereo, holding everyone back.
Aquarius (21 January – 19 February)
Don’t be alarmed by all the triple-sixes in your future. You have never rolled a Dungeons & Dragons character this versatile.
Pisces (20 February – 20 March)
After a nightmarish overnight bus ride—on which you sit next to the bathroom for what you think is convenience, but what is actually the whacking of the door against your shin, the wafting of poop-smell and hand sanitizer—you arrive in Nashville feeling undead: green, groaning, hungry for a woman with brains. Sour dread sets in when you realize Connie Britton doesn’t even live here, let alone drop into The Bluebird for heart-melting duets with her ex. Hands-down worst vacation since you hitchhiked to West Texas.
Aries (21 March – 20 April)
The scariest thing you’ve seen all year is not Cameron Diaz in The Counselor, or even The Counselor itself (which is frightfully bad), but the mental image you can’t shake since you saw the film, of Cormac McCarthy hunched over his Remington, lecherously penning the Diaz/windshield scene. In the immortal words of Pusha T: YUCK.
Taurus (21 April – 21 May)
After your umpteenth Pumking-fueled correction of a bro-hemoth’s Halloween costume (“You’re Frankenstein’s monster, not Frankenstein”), the alpha-male rips one of the D batteries from his neck and hurls it at you with a Favrean arm. You exit the party with black eye blooming, but not before getting in a good crack about the bro-hemoth having the perfect brow (or “fivehead,” as you put it) for his costume.
Gemini (22 May – 21 June)
If you hold those grudges any tighter, the veins will pop from your hands and spiderweb up your arms in a manner most ghastly.
Cancer (22 June – 22 July)
Even for you, Big C—someone whose Pinterest page is a nauseating brown-orange whirl of pumpkin pies, cakes, cookies, muffins, donuts, beers, vodkas, pastas, parfaits, and, WTFN, Pringles—this new pumpkin-flavored toothpaste seems indulgent. The small glob of whipped cream atop your brush? Grossly counterproductive.
Leo (23 July – 22 August)
After years of pitiful demurrals, you finally watch the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the whole time thinking, Wow, nice boobs; and, This is the most fucked up episode of Scooby Doo I have ever seen.
Virgo (23 August – 23 September)
Your significant other—a hopeless-but-lovable mumbler, wrestling a monstrous hangover under a tangle of green sheets—requests a bagel one Sunday; you mishear and return with a pound-found beagle named Ash. Ash hops onto the bed and warms your love’s feet, which are notoriously corpse-cold. When the hangover relents, the pup howls in triumph, and you vote unanimously to keep him.
Libra (24 September – 23 October)
Sure, you freaked when that were-otter bit you. But now, full moons? Never been happier.
If your birthday is this Thursday: There’s a fair-to-middlin’ chance your family calls you Aunt/Uncle Boo.
Evan Allgood's work has appeared in McSweeney's, The Millions, LA Review of Books, The Toast, and The Billfold. He lives in Brooklyn and contributes regularly to Paste. Follow and maybe later unfollow him on Twitter @evoooooooooooo.