Smoothie Shop Séance – Shelley Opens a Spirit-Cleansing Juice Bar, Her First Customer Faints, and a New Conspiracy is Born
By Tom Seest
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
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Smoothie Shop Séance – a Spirit-Cleansing Juice Bar, Fainting Customer, and a New Conspiracy Is Born
It was only a matter of time before Shelley Wexler combined her love for holistic healing, kale, and vague mysticism into one physical location. That time arrived this Saturday, with the grand opening of Soul Sip Smoothie & Spiritual Center, located between the used bookstore and the bait shop.
The shop promised “chakra-aligned blends,” “anti-anxiety acai,” and “smoothies that cleanse not just your gut, but your ancestral guilt.”
Shelley wore a flowing robe stitched with crystals and welcomed guests by smudging the doorway with sage and whispering, “Enter as you are. Leave as a vibration.”

Smoothie Shop Séance – a Spirit-Cleansing Juice Bar, Fainting Customer, and a New Conspiracy Is Born
The trouble began with her first customer: Boot Barnes, who came in “because it was hot, and I thought it was a Slushy place.” Shelley offered him her signature drink, the Throat Chakra Thunderbolt, made with blueberries, raw ginger, and something called “moon-refrigerated almond milk.”
Three sips in, Boot turned pale, clutched the dreamcatcher hanging by the counter, and fainted into the soy protein display. Emergency services were called. Officer Kenny Joe Teeter responded, arriving just in time to witness Clovis Strickland declaring the event “an astral assault” and unfurling a chart that claimed Shelley’s business sat atop a “ley line of livestock disappearance.”
Pastor Peeler entered shortly after, attempting to bless the space. He accidentally knocked over the “Earth Harmony” station, spilling chia seeds into the diffuser. The resulting scent—described by one patron as “haunted oatmeal”—prompted further evacuation.

Shelley insisted Boot’s reaction was due to “stored emotional trauma and an overly constricted fifth chakra.” Boot later told reporters, “I think it was the ginger. Or the guilt.”
The town council called an emergency meeting to determine whether Soul Sip required a food permit, a wellness license, or “some kind of celestial zoning variance.”
Meanwhile, Doug ‘Doughboy’ Teeter launched a competing pop-up called “Meat Shake”—advertised as “100% bacon-based and spirit-free.” His first flavor, “Porkberry Grit,” reportedly sold out.
Shelley has vowed to continue operations, now offering trauma screenings via essential oil sniff tests and emotional aura consultations using a borrowed karaoke machine.
Boot recovered quickly and has since filed a complaint with the Spiritual Beverage Oversight Board, which exists now because Trixie Jo started it on Facebook.

At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional, except for all the parts that aren’t true. Any resemblance to real people, living or just stubborn, is purely accidental—but also maybe a little flattering. Sequatchie Crossing exists only in the minds of those brave enough to imagine a town where zoning laws, casseroles, and conspiracy cassettes collide in glorious disarray.












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