Setting: A sunny afternoon in Seville, Spain. Two friends, Luis (the rational thinker) and Carmen (the superstitious believer), are sitting at a small café near Carmen’s apartment, sipping café con leche.
Luis: (smirking) Carmen, I couldn’t help but notice you’ve added yet another cactus to your doorway. That’s the third one this month, isn’t it?
Carmen: (nodding seriously) Sí, Luis. The last one started leaning to the left—bad sign. I replaced it with a San Pedro cactus. Very strong energy. Much better at keeping bad spirits away.
Luis: Bad spirits? Carmen, it’s a plant. A spiky one, sure, but unless ghosts are balloons at a children’s party, I’m not sure they care about cacti.
Carmen: Ay, Luis… You and your science. My abuela always said cacti at the entrance confuse negative energies. Spirits try to pass through, get pricked, and turn back.
Luis: (laughs) That sounds like something out of a Looney Tunes cartoon. You imagine a ghost flying up to your door, sees the cactus, and goes, “¡Ay caramba!” then floats away?
Carmen: Exactamente. See? It works!
Luis: Seriously, though, have you ever considered that maybe the real reason people started putting cacti at the entrance is because they’re hardy plants that survive heat, not spiritual bouncers?
Carmen: But I’ve felt it, Luis. One time, I forgot to put a cactus after repotting, and that week my boyfriend left me, my washing machine broke, and I dropped my phone in the toilet. Coincidence? I think not.
Luis: Or… your boyfriend was already unhappy, your washing machine was 12 years old, and you were texting while half-asleep. That’s not spirits, that’s entropy.
Carmen: I knew you’d say that. You always need a logical explanation. But what’s the harm? It makes me feel protected. Like a little cactus soldier guarding my home.
Luis: Well, there’s no harm, really. Unless you start blaming the cactus when the power goes out or forget to lock your door because you think it has magical security powers.
Carmen: I don’t think it’s magic, just… energy. Like vibes. You believe in vibes, don’t you?
Luis: I believe in data. Vibes are just emotions with good PR. But I get it—humans love rituals. Maybe putting a cactus out is your way of saying “I care about my space.”
Carmen: See? You do understand. It’s about intention. And it makes my entrance look cute. You can’t argue with that.
Luis: Okay, the aesthetic is solid. But let me propose a compromise. Next time something bad happens, try this: keep the cactus but also look at other possible causes. Maybe even write it down. Do a little Carmen-science.
Carmen: You want me to become my own lab rat?
Luis: Preferably a lab cat, sitting beside your cactus. Very on-brand.
Carmen: (laughs) Fine, but only if I can name the experiment Operation Cactus Vibes.
Luis: Deal. And if I come back next month and you’ve got ten more cacti and a garlic braid, we’re having an intervention.
Carmen: Only if you promise not to bring charts.
Luis: No promises.
[They clink coffee cups, smiling—still disagreeing, but happy to exist in each other’s quirky realities.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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