Ask the Futurist!

Actual, real pronoucements of gnomic wisdom from a bona-fide, true-life Futurist!

Soothseeker A: What does my future hold?
Futurist: The light grinding of your left leg on a spinning mill wheel. Torrid love in the back seat of a Morris Minor. Indifference where there should have been remorse. Accordion lessons. Death. Next!
Soothseeker B: Will there be peace in death?
Futurist: Yes, there is no dancing. Next!
Soothseeker C: Where are my car keys?
Futurist: Where you left them. Next!
Soothseeker D: What is the secret to eternal life?
Futurist: Never grow old. Next!
Soothseeker E: How can I prevent my barberries from withering in the frosty winter months?
Futurist: Gather your barberries and horde them in the inner caverns of your abode. Next!
Soothseeker F: How might a blind man perceive a rainbow?
Futurist: Through the feeble pronouncements of the partially sighted. Next!
Soothseeker G: Where is my treasure buried?
Futurist: Sail to the Salty Seas. Tack west some eighty leagues from Skull Promontory. Land at the Island of Freudian Nightmares. Follow the direction of the setting sun until you reach a tree in the shape of a panther riding a unicycle. Turn right and walk one hundred and fifty paces in the gait of a one-legged man. You are in a nunnery. Renounce all treasures. Next!

There is no next. It is the end.