Here comes Hobo Harry’s Horoscopes for June 1st, 2025, freshly scryed from the dregs of a vending machine coffee and the whisperings of a feral banjo at dawn. The stars are restless. The raccoons are bickering. It’s a great day for prophecy.
♈ Aries (The Burnin’ Boot)
You wake up today with a plan, but so does fate—and hers involves a trampoline and emotional whiplash. Don’t trust a man with two umbrellas and no raincoat. Your lucky object: a squeaky dog toy that screams when nobody’s touching it.
♉ Taurus (The Stubborn Can Opener)
Comfort is calling, but it’s got a weird voice. Someone from your past may reappear with a ham and a grudge. Be firm but polite—preferably with an interpretive dance. Venus favors canned goods today. The dented ones.
♊ Gemini (The Two-Headed Squirrel)
A twin impulse strikes: part of you wants to reinvent yourself, the other part wants to eat five corn dogs and shout at pigeons. You can do both. You should do both. Answers lie in the fourth port-a-potty from the left.
♋ Cancer (The Emotional Shovel)
Something soft inside you stirs—might be love, might be gas. Either way, you’re going to cry at a potato today. Don’t fight it. Vulnerability is powerful, especially when armed with a half-eaten churro.
♌ Leo (The Regal Shopping Cart)
You strut through the day like a raccoon in a fur coat—confident, majestic, slightly suspicious. But beware false praise from men with shiny shoes and empty pockets. Demand snacks before flattery.
♍ Virgo (The Orderly Pigeon)
Plans fall apart today, but not before revealing a hidden message in spilled chili. Clean up after someone who wronged you. It will confuse and terrify them, and balance your karmic spreadsheet.
♎ Libra (The Balanced Trash Lid)
You’re in the middle of everything: arguments, decisions, a literal traffic circle. Today demands you choose a side. Pick the one with snacks and fewer existential riddles. Avoid decisions involving goats.
♏ Scorpio (The Venomous Teacup)
Temptation slinks up to you wearing a trench coat and whispering secrets about underground cheese cults. You’re intrigued. Follow the clues, but keep a spoon handy—it doubles as defense and diplomacy.
♐ Sagittarius (The Flaming Arrow of Doubt)
Your feet itch for new ground. Trouble is, the ground has opinions today. Adventure waits behind a dumpster labeled “DO NOT OPEN.” Open it. But wear goggles. And emotional armor.
♑ Capricorn (The Mountain Goat of Doom)
You’ve built walls. Good walls. Brick, emotional, and made from stolen milk crates. Today, someone may scale them. You’ll be furious… and slightly flattered. Let them in. Just not all the way.
♒ Aquarius (The Bucket of Echoes)
Ideas pour from you like soda from a shaken can—explosive, sticky, unpredictable. Some will love your chaos. Others will report you to mall security. Either way, you’re unforgettable today. Embrace it.
♓ Pisces (The Fish Who Dreamed of Flight)
You dreamed of waffles shaped like ancient symbols. It wasn’t just hunger—it was prophecy. Something forgotten returns today. Might be an ex, might be a kazoo. Either way: listen carefully. Respond only in interpretive blinking.
💫 Hobo Harry’s Fortune Crumb of the Day:
“Walk backward through a grocery store and the truth shall follow. Unless it’s Tuesdays. Then it’s squirrels.”
🔮 The Prophecy of Seven Grapes in the Shoe
As transcribed by Hobo Harry after three raccoon-led ceremonies, one fever dream, and a brief electrical fire in a vending machine.
It is written in the sacred wrappers and whispered in the alley winds:
“When the moon grows bloated with secrets
And the vending machines bleed soda,
Seven grapes shall ripen not on vine—
But in the hollow of a forgotten shoe.”
What does it mean? The interpretations are many and contradictory, much like a raccoon’s mood:
Possible Meanings:
🟣 The Grapes = fragments of potential, small and squishy truths. Seven is sacred—one for each forgotten sock.
🥿 The Shoe = a vessel of movement, a path interrupted, a container of forgotten journeys (also sometimes a bathroom).
🌕 The Prophecy = a warning, a riddle, a roadmap—or maybe a grocery list with existential overtones.
Hobo Harry’s Working Theory:
The prophecy refers to a person (or possum) who unknowingly carries the keys to the Next Era of Mismatched Truths. When they discover all seven grapes—hidden in dreams, alley games, haunted jukeboxes, and maybe under a diner booth—they’ll unlock a path to the Ladle of Reckoning, which legend says can stir the future into flavor or doom.
Blaze thinks it means we’re going to find a really good sandwich soon.
Jasper bit one of the grapes. He’s glowing now. Unsure if that’s related.
Sign to Watch For Tonight:
If a harmonica plays itself at exactly 11:11 p.m. and tastes like grape jelly, it has begun.
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