Reykjavík Grapevine - okt. 2020, Blaðsíða 30

HORROR!SCOPES
The Autumn
Fo! Reveals
Your Fate
Please don't dress up as "Slutty Coronavirus" for
Halloween...
Words: C"therine M"gnúsdóttir & H"nn"h J"ne Cohen
In Horror-Scopes, the Grapevine’s
dedicated team of amateur astrolo-
gists give you their mystical visions
on the dark fate that lies before you.
The tea leaves have spoken!
Aries
The spirits demand their
offering, Aries. An oath
made in blood weighs as much as
a delicate click of “I have read and
agree with the terms and condi-
tions.” Don’t challenge their wrath.
Updating your iOS won’t end well.
Taurus No, Taurus, it is absolutely NOT too early to be wear-
ing that Halloween sweater. Mix
it with a witch’s hat while you’re at
it, why don’t you? We called alleged
Grapevine fan Tim Burton and he
agreed. GeminiThe cold autumn fog hides many things, Gemini, but
not that unfinished assignment
nor your fraught relationship with
your father.
Cancer
Byronic poetry is best en-
joyed at a graveyard, don’t
you think? Just make sure you get
all your longing out before sunrise
and don’t accidentally carry home
some graveyard dirt under your
pointy, leather, gothic shoes. It
might invite some restless soul to
follow you and your sleep paralysis
monster doesn’t need more com-
pany. Unless it’s a fellow Cradle of
Filth fan.
LeoI don’t care what they say, Leo, you go and en-
joy that pumpkin spiced latte! This
year has been harsh enough, so just
go ahead and embrace everything
that would have made you a basic
bitch before. Pop in that Notebook
DVD or go listen to the Chainsmok-
ers #goodvibes #missingcoachella
Virgo
Scrolling through aesthetic
blogs on tumblr might not
be the best coping mechanisms on
a long-term scale, but reblogging
some of those ‘Hocus Pocus’ gif-
sets can’t hurt. LibraThere’s nothing wrong with caring so l ittle
about Halloween that you once
again opt for the sexy cat look this
year. Just kidding—we know your
ambitions for Samhain grandeur
journey far beyond the feline. We
foresee a unanimous win at this
year’s costume contest if you go
big and rent some tigers for a
sexy Carole Baskin look. For full
authenticity, (allegedly) kill your
husband. ScorpioMake like a ghost and grab some boo-ze. Maybe it ’ll
warm your dead Scorpio heart.
(We hate Scorpios. Sue us.)
SagittariusWe love new seasons—both weather and ‘The
Bachelorette’! Let’s hope Clare
(or Tayshia?) finds love this time
around. If you’re reading this,
Crawley, let the falling leaves re-
mind you that it’s ok to let go. CapricornIt ’s t ime for a girls niiiight! Create a group
chat for all your gal pals, get some
firewood and just go apeshit in
the forest. Satanic chanting can
be an excellent bonding experi-
ence, we hear, as is dancing naked
in the woods! Just make sure none
of your friends are called Abigail
Williams, Elizabeth Proctor, or
something equally… dangerous.
AquariusThe only things follow-ing you into the grave
will be worms. You’ll be alone
forever, you aquatic loser.
Pisces It’s not too late to book a cabin for the autumn
days ahead. Fulfill your dream
of being the hermit of the high-
lands, Pisces! Vanish mysteri-
ously into the mist, go pick some
berries and knit yourself an awe-
some cloak. Be the folklore figure
you were born to be.
CITY SHOT by Art Bicnick
WELL, YOU ASKED
White
Collar Tax
Fraud

Words: Iona Rangeley-Wilson
Got a burning question? In desperate need
of advice? We at the Grapevine are here
to help.
How do I move out of home?
Get arrested. It’s time to get real, Mil-
lennials and Gen Z-ers. You are never
going to own your own home. Not un-
less you become the sole inheritor of
an estranged aunt’s vast fortune or se-
duce Leonardo DiCaprio. What better
way to get out of your parents’ house
than to have the country’s law enforce-
ment services expressly forbid you from
spending further time in it? Be crea-
tive: commit some cheeky yet charm-
ing white-collar tax fraud, murder your
least favourite politician, or allow your
ex-partner-in-crime to emotionally
blackmail you into helping him heist
a casino. And once you’re in prison?
I’ve heard rent’s paid for by the state,
and you’ll never get Mum telling you off
for not making your bed again. I mean
Jesus, you’re not twelve.
My fish died. I didn’t feed them. Am
I a murderer?
Yes. You’re a cold-blooded killer. And on
a subliminal, subconscious level, you
did this on purpose. Was it a twisted
way of getting back at your primary
school lunch lady for forcing you to fin-
ish your fish fingers? Or perhaps the
dark impulse of a repressed vegetarian?
Well, you’re too far gone now. There’s
no way back. Either hand yourself in to
the police right away, or be bold and be-
come a career assassin. Just make sure
you remember your roots.
"The Man With The Double Shadow"
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30 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 08— 2020