Cinnamon The Monkey Medium

This is a continuation of my last freewrite: Nothing To Do At The Steemians House
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     The room was medium sized and crowded. People came from miles around to experience Cinnamon The Monkey Medium. Some hoping to be selected for a private reading. You couldn't request a private reading, Cinnamon had to choose you. It said so right there in the welcome pamphlet. Decorating the small stage was a chair and a whiteboard resting on a stand. Behind the stage hung a purple curtain. To the left of the stage, the Steem Keepers sat anxiously.

     The curtain pulled back and out stepped a woman carrying a brief case. According to the pamphlet, she was Cinnamon's handler, Philamena. A few feet behind her followed an orangutan one could only assume was Cinnamon.

     Cinnamon stood next to the whiteboard and Philamena sat down in the chair. Without any preamble(read the damn pamphlet!) Philamena opened the briefcase and pulled out 6 markers of different colors. In one hand she extended the markers toward Cinnamon, who stared at them trance-like. After a few seconds, Cinnamon reached out and chose the red marker. As the monkey began writing on the whiteboard, the entire viewing audience leaned forward in their seats.

     From the right side of the audience, a woman cried out, "Warren! That's my Warren!" She started weeping into the shoulder of the man sitting next to her. Cinnamon smiled and began nodding her head. She then moved over to the sobbing woman and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. The woman immediately stopped crying and a smile formed on her face.

     As Cinnamon made her way back to the stage, Philamena finally spoke. "Cinnamon has chosen you for a private reading. She'll see you after the show, if you accept."

     Next, Cinnamon chose a purple marker. And, once again, she began drawing on the whiteboard.

     @Brisby's eyes widened. She shouted, "Purple squirrel!" Cinnamon bared her teeth, hissed, and began jumping up and down. Philamena dropped the markers she was holding and ran through the curtain, leaving the stage. Cinnamon began to pick up markers and throw them into the now panicked audience. What Cinnamon began tossing into the audience next, I only wish were markers. Well, there is a brown marker. Needless to say, the gallery was in sheer chaos at this point.

     Through the commotion, the Steem Keepers managed to slip out, untarnished. The terrified screams of the others fading behind them. "Shit, that was fun!"

_{Cinnamon's final whiteboard drawing.}

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