Kylie Minogue snaps her fingers, turns the stove dial to 6—the Kabbalah number of The Lovers, the heat of choices, desire, and destiny.
KYLIE:
“Joe, darling, find me someone hot. Chile-hot. I’m not singing ‘Can’t Get You Out of My Head’ for some lukewarm energy.”
The blue flame rises. Kylie watches it like an oracle reading signs in fire.
JOE (sighing):
“Kylie… I tried. Emmanuel Ascui was supposed to be the groom, but he’s got cold feet. Arctic feet. He even unfriended me on Facebook.”
Kylie gasps like this is the worst betrayal since Madonna stole the cone bra.
KYLIE:
“He unfriended you? Before the wedding ritual? That breaks the circle, Joe. That reverses the lovers card energy!”
She stirs the pot on the stove dramatically—like a witch mixing destiny—then points the spoon at Joe.
KYLIE:
“Fine. Then we manifest someone even hotter. Someone who can handle a Kabbalah-grade lover at level six. Get your phone, Joe. We’re rewriting fate.”
Joe takes out his phone, defeated but loyal.
JOE:
“Alright, Kylie. But I’m telling you now—the universe better send a match who won’t ghost or unfriend.”
Kylie smirks.
KYLIE:
“Oh honey, the universe owes me.”