Aries (21 March – 20 April)
Quiche is a wonderful, filling food that’s really pretty easy to make. It packs caloric punch, it lasts in the fridge, and nobody will think you’re being rude when you stand on your seat on the bus and sing at the top of your lungs, “I love quiche, I love quiche, I don’t care what anyone thinks!” The same cannot be said, however, for oatmeal. Oatmeal-related beatings on buses are on the rise in every major American city. So, Aries, if you do decide to start your day with a bowl of steaming oats, keep it to yourself.
Taurus (21 April – 21 May)
Springtime, eh? In some parts of the country, that means rain. If it looks like there’s water outside your window, be prepared, put on your head-to-toe slicker, put on your rain hat, put on your galoshes, and know that no matter what, you cannot, will not, must not risk getting wet. Remember that time at camp when everyone jumped in the lake? You remember the feeling—water all around you. It was disgusting. You had to be tranquilized. Never, ever let that happen again.
Gemini (22 May – 21 June)
On Tuesday, you’ve got only one option—shave, put on deodorant, go to the grocery store, and stand outside the automatic doors shaking hands with whoever will accept your offer of forgiveness. Jesus had to start somewhere, and so do you.
Cancer (22 June – 22 July)
Your friend has a tan. You don’t. You want a tan but it’s March and you live in Minnesota. Rub yourself on your friend. See if it works. If it does, take the tan and then run to the bank, because you’re about to be rich.
Leo (23 July – 22 August)
The wind is howling, and why wouldn’t it? What would you do if you had no body, no home, nowhere to kick up your feet? Wind by nature is homeless and invisible. Think about that feeling for a second, and be grateful for what you have.
Virgo (23 August – 23 September)
Soup is your favorite food. It’s like juice but thicker and made of vegetables. As a soup lover, you don’t need plates anymore. Or forks for that matter. So why not throw them out the window? You live on the fifth floor and your plates and forks will make a satisfying clink sound when they hit the cars down below. You’ve always known soup was the best food to love. Now’s the time to put your love to the test.
Libra (24 September – 23 October)
You are tired and feeling unfunny. You would benefit from a shower. Eh. Go ahead and take one. Nobody bats a thousand these days anyway.
Scorpio (24 October – 22 November)
Drake is your favorite artist. You have a haircut like him. You have a beard like him. You’re sick of all the “No Drakes Allowed” signs that are popping up around town. You go online and discover that Pitbull fans endure no such indignity. You have a blood feud. You go to jail for manslaughter. In prison you get a new haircut. You don’t look like Drake anymore. You discover that you look better when, well, when you look like you. In some cases, prison does what it was designed for.
Sagittarius (23 November – 21 December)
Take a look out the window. What do you see? A building? A tree? Whatever it is, take note of it, because it might not be there tomorrow. With the internet and everything, the world is turning faster and faster. Try to keep up as best you can.
Capricorn (22 December – 20 January)
Wiggle your toes in the warm springtime sand! You live in a sandbox for a reason.
Aquarius (21 January – 19 February)
Mind the radio, Aquarius. If you hear it turn on for no reason, think about logical explanations before you blame ghosts. Could it be that you have an alarm clock with a radio setting? Could it be that your houseplants have arms and brains and really like music? The world is rife with logical explanations. Don’t jump to conclusions until you’ve tested them all. Go home. Be a man. Do the laundry.
Pisces (20 February – 20 March)
Go to bed. Wake up. Walk the dog. Throw the dog off the bridge. Fetch the dog from the net you placed under the bridge yesterday. Console the dog. Go home. Give it a bone. It deserves one. Your dog has been through a lot.
Tom Dibblee is Trop’s editor. His fiction has appeared in Glimmer Train and his nonfiction has appeared in Pacific Standard, the Los Angeles Review of Books, and the Point. He lives in Los Angeles.