It's said that truth is stranger than fiction because fiction has to make sense. I can say from experience that real life often produces scenes that would be regarded as too much of a stretch for good fiction.
Years ago, my three sons and I had a family tradition of visiting the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire at least once during its season. One Summer, my ex invited herself along.
Without going into the messy details, the last few years of our marriage had been acrimonious at best. The divorce ended the marriage, but not the acrimony, which my ex continued to generate, but from a distance that made it much more bearable. I was never particularly happy to have her visit, but for the sake of the boys, I always treated her politely and with respect.
No sooner had we passed through the gates to the Faire than the boys scattered in three different directions, each to pursue his own immediate interests. I was used to this by now, and they were all old enough to take care of themselves. Besides, I knew exactly where and when to find them all again. They never missed the Bawdy Songs, a PG-13 portion of the Faire's entertainment, sung by attractive young women in period costumes.
Then my ex told me that as she was completely unfamiliar with the Faire she was going to stick with me for the day. I resigned myself to my fate. It would only be until sundown, after all.
Shortly before the Bawdy Songs began, we happened to pass by the Faire's one an only fortune teller, who announced that she was running a special that day: Two palm readings for the price of one. Since my ex was big on fortune-telling of all kinds, I offered to spring for the deal. She accepted, saying that I should go first. Then she sat down next to me to listen in.
The fortune teller looked at my palm for several minutes before she began.
"I see one marriage in your life...so far," she said. Then, after a pause, with my ex looking on and listening closely, she continued:
"This woman treated you terribly."