Yeah, Sticky, because my hands are so sticky. No, I don’t mean they are like tree branches or covered in glue. It’s just . . . when I see something that I really want, I can’t help it, I have to take it, things are always getting picked up with my sticky hands. Now, yeah, I know stealing is wrong. Mum, Dad and teachers have lectured to me about it for hours, but, hey, if people didn’t want stuff stolen, they would take better care of it. I look at the guy beside me.
Yeah, perfect example, I can see the wallet in his pocket, it’s sticking out so far, it’s pretty much going to fall out on its own. I easily, but carefully, slip my hand over and slide the wallet out.
See? He just wasn’t paying attention. I open the wallet and search around. That $50 note looks alright. I slip it into my own pocket and then put the guy’s wallet on the floor.
And here’s the most fun part. I tap him on the shoulder “Hey, man, you’ve dropped your wallet.”
The guy looks surprised and picks his wallet up off the floor,
“Oh, thanks,” he says.
“No worries.”
As he turns around, I can’t hide the smile on my face. Not only does he not know, but now I’m the nice, young fellow who found his wallet for him, he never suspected a thing. Fantastic. The bus stops and I look out to see the tall buildings of the City. Yep, my stop, I wonder where the guys are?
I stand up and follow the shuffling crowd off the bus. As people start spreading out to head off, I spot Charlie through the crowd.
“Hey! What’r’ya doin’?” I call over.
“Waitin’ for you, come on.” He says, obviously not wanting to waste any time. He almost drags me through the people to the centre of the Mall. “Phil said he’d be here.” He murmurs, looking over the crowds, “Why does EVERYONE have to meet at Hungry Jacks?”
“Hey! You lot!” Phil suddenly calls over, from down the street, “You gotta check this out!”
When he gets close Charlie moves behind Phil and slaps him in the back of the head “Hey! Wha’s that for?” Phil grumbles. As Phil groans in pain, I can’t help but laugh, he got hit right in the back of the head.
“We’re s’pose to be meeting here dingus, if you’d not come runnin’ up, we’d’ve been waiting here for hours.” Okay, even I know that’s a stupid reason, but what can I say? Charlie likes to hit people.
“Whatever, I was just sayin’ that you should come check this guy out down here.” Before we learn anymore, Phil turns around and starts going back down the street.
“Come on Sticky, either we follow him or we’ll lose him forever. We never can settle Phil down.”
I start jogging after Charlie down the street and soon enough I see a large crowd of people standing on the side of the street. Phil’s waiting just beside it.
“Guys, look, it’s a magician!” Phil leads us around to the side of the crowd and we can just see through the people. The magician is around his forties, and he is wearing dark black pants, held up with red braces over a chequered shirt, and he has a black, short-brimmed hat on his head, and he’s standing on top of an upturned milk-crate so that all the people around him can see him. The magician reaches down into a large, brown leather bag by the foot of the milk-crate and pulls out a pack of cards.
“Pick a card, any card.” He says, fanning out the deck toward the volunteer in front of him.
“I think I know how to do that trick,” Charlie says behind me, suddenly chuckling.
“This old coot has just bought a magic book, and now he’s trying to get money from it. It’s ridiculous.”
I had thought the magician was pretty cool, but now that he mentions it, these tricks are pretty ordinary, Charlie’s right.
“Yeah,” I pipe up “I think I could do some better tricks than that.” I say
I turn back to Charlie to see him smiling,
“Hey, that’s a good idea. Sticky, you’re pretty good at making things disappear, why don’t you show him how to really do magic.” The idea sounds pretty good to me, performing to such a big crowd.
“Alright then, I will.” I turn back to the magician just as the crowd is applauding. Before he can start his next trick, I push through the crowd to where the magician is and stand right next to him. I notice some disapproving looks from the crowd, and the magician even looks down at me from on top of his crate.
“Excuse me, do you wish to volunteer?” he asks
“No,” I say, suddenly noticing the edge of a bright, yellow scarf sticking out from his pocket, “I’m here to do magic!” I waggle my empty fingers to the silent, stone-faced crowd and then walk behind the magician. As I pass, I easily slip the scarf from his pocket and scrunch it up into my fist.
“Ta da!” I call as I throw the scarf up into the air with flourish and catch it as it floats back down.
Some of the people clap, but most keep staring coldly, I think I hear one person murmuring loudly ‘Attention-seeking fool . . .’. The magician clears his throat
“Isn’t that my scarf?” he says , stepping off of the crate, looking slightly cranky. I hold it out for him to take back.
“I guess so,” I say as he snatches it back and puts it into his pocket.
“Then, you are merely a thief?!” he cries out. I can barely keep a straight face as he gets more mad.
But, suddenly, his face turns friendly and smiley again as he turns back to the audience.
“You are a thief, but I am a better one!”
I stare at him, confused. Did I just become part of his act?
He turns me to face the crowd
“Ready yourself,” he says. Then, as I am facing forward, he walks behind me. I don’t feel a thing, I know he hasn’t stolen anything. I turn to my other side to see him announce to the crowd
“Okay, I have now stolen something from you!”
I really don’t get it, I know he hasn’t stolen anything.
“What? Don’t think I’ve taken anything? Are you sure?”
I start to check my pockets, just in case, my wallet, the $50 note, my detention slip . . .
Suddenly, I hear the crowd burst out in laughter and I look up to the magician. He’s holding up a pair of underwear.
No . . . he couldn’t have . . .
I put my hand down and check, just to be sure. Yeah, they’re there, but . . .
The crowd is laughing, Charlie and Phil are laughing, even the magician is chuckling to himself. It was all just a trick, but these people would never believe me. I’ve been made a fool of.
I turn to walk away, but the magician stops me.
“Oh, don’t forget to take these.” He says, stuffing the underwear in my hand. I just take them and saunter through the crowd. I step up to the laughing Charlie and Phil,
“Now THAT’S a magic trick!” Phil screams, and it sends the two almost rolling on the floor in laughter.
“I’m going home.” I say, turning away from Charlie and Phil,
“Oh, come on! Just ‘cause you got outdone by a 50-year-old? Come on Phil, let’s leave him to sook.”
They wander off, still laughing to themselves as they go. I continue on down the street, headed for the train station.
Damn it! All those people laughing at me, it’s all that Magician’s fault, how dare he laugh at me.
I look down at the pair of knickers in my hand.
“What kind of sick paedophile carries around a pair of undies anyway?” I say, throwing the underwear into a nearby bin. That sick, old man, I should get him back. He should still be performing, I could just . . .
I turn back to look up the street, but I see the crowd has spread out, the act is over. Just my luck. I continue back down the Mall, cross the street to the train station, and start making my way to the platforms. How am I gonna get him back? Maybe tomorrow I’ll show up and ruin all his tricks, tell everyone how they’re done . . . No, I’ll just seem like a crazy heckler . . .
Maybe I could start my own magic act and . . . No, that’s just stupid.
I pass through the station and see my train’s on the platform. People are already on the train, I’m gonna miss it if I’m not fast. I jump down the tiled steps and leap through the doors onto the train. Phew!
The doors slam shut behind me and the train begins to crawl it’s way along, slowly speeding up.
Damn, I lost my train of thought. Where was I? Damn it! I dunno how to get him back. Suddenly, my eye catches something just in front of me. A forty-year-old man wearing dark pants held up with red braces over a chequered shirt and a short-brimmed hat on his head. Just my luck . . .
It’s the Magician. The Magician is on my train. How did he get here before me? Oh, who cares, this is just too perfect. My mind is racing a mile a minute, the old man can’t even see me, because he’s facing towards the other side of the passenger car. This is the perfect chance, I can’t think of anything, there’s so much I could do, but what can I get away with?
I suddenly notice a bag at his feet. It’s large, bulky and made of weathered, brown leather. It’s his bag, the bag full of his magic tricks. I can’t help but smile. This guy does magic tricks for a living, he couldn’t do that very well if he didn’t have his magic trick bag, could he?
I look around. Nobody’s looking, it’s now or never. As naturally as possible, I lean over, hook my hand through the handle and stand back up straight. I nearly fall over from the weight of the bag, but nobody seems to notice me. No reaction from the Magician, this is the easiest steal of my life. Now to slowly walk away . . .
I slowly turn and start walking to the back door, tilting slightly from the weight of the bag. I check behind me, but the Magician doesn’t even notice, the deaf, old fool. I pass through to another carriage and shut the door behind me. I try not to smile too much, but I can’t help it. I can just imagine the look on the old guy’s face when he sees his bag is gone, possibly forever. The weight of the bag is nearly dislocating my arm, so I slowly place it on the floor. Damn, what’s in this thing? Bricks? I lean against the wall to stay standing as the train begins slowing down.
Oh, damn! This is my stop. I really should pay more attention when it comes to public transport.
I lean down and grab the bag again. Wow! It feels heavier than before, I nearly rip my arms off as I try to pick the bag up, how does that old guy do it? I walk quickly off the train, not so much so that I can be home quicker but rather so that my arms don’t fall off before I get there.
As I’m, quickly making my way home, I get a thought in my head. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see some of the tricks in here? I mean, that crowd in the City was pretty big, just imagine if I could get attention like that, it’d be awesome. I drop the bag by the front door as I grab my keys from my front pocket. I’m suddenly really anxious to see what’s in the bag. It’s so heavy, it probably holds hundreds of tricks. I throw the door open and drag the bag through to the living room.
Mum shouldn’t be home yet, I should have heaps of time to check this thing out. The living room is pretty much two sofas, a coffee table and a TV. I grunt with effort as I drop the bag onto the coffee table, I can swear I hear it almost crack from the weight. Wow, I slowly lean forward and look at the bag, I wonder what’s inside. I take the two handles and slowly start prying them apart . . .
BANG! I quickly spin around. It was just the front door closing. I almost chuckle at my foolishness. The door, what am I so afraid of? It’s just a bag right?
I turn back to the bag and continue prying it open. Inside, the first thing that catches my eye is a large book, it’s decorated with red and gold colouring. It must have all his magic tricks in it. I pick it out and read the cover:
Les Livre de Magique
& pour le Magicien entraîné ou le expérimenté prestidigitateur
I stare open-mouthed at the cover of the book,
“French?!” I throw the heavy book onto the coffee table with a bang. “How the hell am I supposed to read a French Magic Book?!” I think for a moment. Perhaps it’s just a ruse, to stop people reading it. I flip through a few pages
disparaître sort . . . Sort de mille oiseau . . .
“Damn it! Just my luck he’s an immigrant . . . French . . .” I slide the book from the table onto the floor in anger. But then a thought occurs “I don’t need a magic trick book to tell me how to work magic props, I’ll work it out myself . . .”
I look into the bag again. There’s a small, wooden rack full of glass jars, a few bundled up silk bags, all sorts of strange things all around it. I reach in and start to move stuff around, and I see an old-fashioned top-hat. It’s interesting because it isn’t crumpled even from being carried around in the bag, it must be a trick hat. I take it out and inspect it.
It weighs the same as an ordinary top-hat, at least I guess so because I’ve never seen one before.
I look at it all over, but I can’t see any secret compartments or hidden sleeves. It seems normal, but why isn’t it crumpled up? What’s it made of?
I hold it by the brim and tap it on the table. It knocks on the wood the same as a rock would.
“What’s so good about a rock-hard top-hat?” Suddenly something white jumps out of the hat into my face. I jump back and start swiping at it with the hat.
“HEY! Get off!” It flutters around the room madly then comes to a rest on the table, cooing softly. The perfectly white dove starts pecking at the coffee table.
“Whoa, a dove out of a hat.” I look at the hat again. “Where the hell did it come out of?” no secret compartments, it’s too thin for a dove to have hidden inside of, and how did it come out anyway.
Cautiously, I lean over again and tap the table again with the hat, then point the opening away from me. Another dove flies out and circles the room before coming to rest beside the other dove.
“Wow, now that’s magic.” As soon as I say it, I realise it sounds stupid, but it’s the only explanation.
“Damn! That Magician is cheating! He’s using real magic.”
I drop the hat on the table and start searching through the bag again.
“What else could be in here?”
My fingers grasp around something metal, like a wire-mesh. I pull it out and hold up a small, metal cage, which is just a bit bigger than a tissue box. It’s like what people use to hold guinea pigs or small pets in, but why does this guy have one?
I start fiddling with the cage. It’s pretty normal, the only thing that moves is the little hatch which opens so you can put the animal inside, I also see a little sign on the side of the cage which says:
Nibbles
“I don’t get it.” I move to put the cage down on the table, but just before I put it down, suddenly it feels like it’s being pulled out of my hands.
It hits the table with a clang and starts . . .squealing?
I look down at the cage again, there’s a small, brown rabbit inside, and it seems a little upset about being dropped. “How the hell did you get in there?” I lean down and look at the rabbit. It’s definitely real. I look into its black, beady eyes. Suddenly there is a faint pop!
The cage is empty. I stand back up and look at the empty cage
“Oh my god, a disappearing bunny.” With another pop! Nibbles the Bunny reappears in the cage.
“For the Rabbit in the Hat trick, I get it.” I pick the cage up, I can now feel the weight of the rabbit in the cage. “This is too cool, what else is there?”
I move to put the rabbit back on the table, but realise that there isn’t any room. The table is covered with a dozen cooing doves.
“What in the world?” I see a thirteenth dove suddenly jump out of the hat and join the rest.
“Hey, Get off!” I shoo them off and send the doves flying all around the room, spreading feathers and such. I put the now empty cage back on the table, then grab the hat and flip it over so that the opening is face down. “There, that should do it.” I turn back to the bag. I reach in and grab one of the little, silk bags.
“What’s in these?” I undo the little draw-string and reach into the bag. Inside are just three rubber balls. “These must just be ordinary props.” I pack the bag back up, put it back and grab another bag. It has a pack of cards, another holds a small coil of rope.
“Boring.” I move to get more stuff but I’m distracted by a shrill squealing from the small rabbit cage.
Nibbles is fidgeting back and forth in the small cage. “How could that cruel old coot keep you locked up in a cage so small?” I say, surprised myself how caring I sound for a freak-of-nature vanishing bunny. I open the cage and take the little bunny out, holding it carefully in my hands, it feels so soft.
Suddenly, it disappears with a pop!
Hmmm, that’s a weird feeling. I decide to let Nibbles roam free, and so I turn back to the bag.
Stuff the props, where’s another magic spell. I move the stuff around, looking for another good trick. Then I see it. A small, black stick hidden within the little bags. Along the stick in small silver letters it says:
Léviterbaton
“What the hell does that mean? Is this a magic wand?” I take out the stick and try waving it around.
Nothing seems to happen.
I try to bend the stick, but it seems to be just as strong as the hat.
Then I think . . . that hat worked when I tapped it on the table . . .
I lower the stick and give it a sharp tap! on the table.
I stand up straight and wait to see what happens. The table seems to be moving, I lean closer. It seems to move more . . .
Suddenly the bag starts to slide off the table. I jump forward to catch it, but as I grab it, birds start flying in all directions from the table. I stand perfectly still and wait for the birds to settle down. What startled them?
Then I see the table, it’s standing on two legs, now with the top-hat and Nibble’s cage on the floor. What the heck? What did that wand do. I put the bag back on the ground and bring the wand up to my face.
CRASH! the table flies up and slams into the ceiling, cracking the plaster and smashing the light.
“ . . .Whoa . . .” I look at the wand again. I moved the wand up, and the table went up . . .
“The wand moves stuff! Cool!” I slowly lower the wand and make the table float back to the ground, to reveal the large crack in the ceiling and the broken light.
“Damn! I’ll have to deal with that later . . .” I jiggle the wand and watch the table shiver.
“Really cool . . .” But how do I stop it? I point the wand down and walk closer. As I get close enough, I let the wand go. The wand drops on the table, it seems to have stopped.
“What else is in there?”
I turn to move back to the bag, only to realise my path is blocked by a flock of cooing doves.
I wave my arms to move them out of my way and slowly make my way back to the bag.
As I finally get to the bag and start to move things around, Nibbles appears inside the bag with a pop!
“Come here you,” I say picking it up “You stay out of there, maybe I should put you back in your cage?” at that, Nibbles wiggles his nose and disappears, pop!
Then I start thinking again, I don’t usually think so much in the afternoons.
“This is full of magic tricks . . . so that French Magic Book . . .”
The book is sitting on the floor besides the now slightly cracked coffee table, that could be filled with some crazy cool magic tricks, maybe even something that can fix the roof and the coffee table.
I shuffle through the doves toward the book and pick it up.
“I can only hope I can understand some of this French . . .”
I start flipping through the book, all the pages are slightly crinkled around the edges, but all the words are there, all the freakishly twisted French words. I look at one page that catches my eye because it is so short and I understand most of the words:
Sort du Vivre
Appliquer Transition Potion sur la animal apprivoisé. Ensuite agiter Léviterbaton au-dessus de désir objet (par exemple – table) à l’époque réciter:
Unir le vie tu le n’est pas vie
“Okay ‘Transition Potion’; ‘Animal’; ‘Leviter baton’; ‘Table’ and ‘Recite’. That sounds simple enough, I just got so see if he’s got this ‘Transition Potion’ and we’re in business.”
I close the book as I turn around, wander through the thickening flock of doves and look in the bag again. The small wooden rack catches my eye, and so I grab it and pull it out. It’s like a wooden toolbox, but it seems to be full of small, glass jars and bottles. On the side it reads:Magique Potion Étagère: N’est pas pour public utilisation
“Magic Potion ‘Etager’, this sounds like what I need.” I say, opening it up.
Each little bottle is about as tall as my thumb, with many variations on shape and width
& . . . séparer breuvage . . . Vingt-Minute Poison . . .
“Ah, here it is, ‘Transition Potion’” the bottle is like a tiny, little wine bottle, it’s even got green-tinted glass like they have, except it has a small bottle cap instead of a cork. I close up the case, put it back in the bag and close it tight, just to be safe. Then I open the book and look at it again
“ ‘Appliquer’? I guess that means apply . . . to an animal, what animal? Where’s that rabbit?”
I start to look around, but think to ignore it, because there is a flock of doves at my feet, and it would be too hard to catch Nibbles, he moves too fast.
“Well, I hope this gets one of you . . .” I say, flicking the bottle around. The small amount of bright, green liquid spills out over the doves, and when it hits them, the birds start fluttering around again, flying in all directions, spreading out.
“Whoa, that definitely got some . . .” I say, turning back to the book “ ‘Leviter baton’ . . . where’d I leave it?” I slowly push my way through the birds, it’s now getting harder to move through the flock without stepping on them, I have to be careful. Eventually I get to the coffee table with the ‘Leviter baton’ and pick it up.
“ ‘Leviter baton’; ‘Table’ and ‘Reciter’ . . . Okay, I’ll just.”
I start waving the wand over the table, making it shiver slightly, and start reading out the words in the book as best as I can
“ You-near, lee vie too lay nest pass vie!” I say. Suddenly, there is a loud BANG! like a balloon popping, and the room starts raining white feathers. “Oh no! I think I killed all the birds!” I drop the magic book on the floor and start making my way through the feathers, which are slowly settling onto the ground. I can’t find the birds, it just seems to be their feathers . . .
Suddenly, all the feathers settle like a blanket over the living room “I made all the birds disappear . . . huh?”
I walk through the carpet of feathers, when I hear something like shuffling behind me. I quickly turn around . . . Nothing there but the couch. Was it always that close to the coffee table?
Then I hear shuffling from the front of the room.
I turn just as the noise stops to see the television . . . did it just move?
I move slowly closer to it to touch it . . .
I lightly place my hand on the television . . .
Suddenly, the television runs sideways out of my grasp and around the room to group up with the couch, which starts shuffling along to make room for it.
“Holy mother of . . . the furniture is alive.” The coffee table starts edging its way towards the bag and magic book, which are now in the centre of the room.
“Hey NO!” I shout running forward.
As I approach, the table recoils to group up with the TV and the two couches.
“Now Stay Back!” They seem harmless so far, but I’m guessing that being run down by a couch is equivalent to being run down by a small rhinoceros.
I lean over to the bag, when I hear a faint pop! and look up in time to see Nibbles the Bunny appear on top of the table.
The coffee table starts shivering in fear . . .
“Oh No!” I scream, grabbing the bag, just as the table runs straight at the wall, in effort to get the bunny off. Nibbles safely disappears in time to avoid the collision . . . BANG!
The loud noise sets all the furniture off in blind panic, and they start running around the room.
I run as fast as I can out of there, in time to hear the sudden cacophony of collisions
BANG! CRASH! BOOM!
I turn around and look at the living room, the furniture is destroying itself and its shredding up the walls by ramming them in the manic furniture stampede.
“They’re going to take the house down if I’m not careful . . . How do I stop it?” I start to recall.
When I did that spell, the doves disappeared, then the furniture started moving . . . the doves must have somehow become part of the furniture . . . I’ve got to separate the furniture from the doves . . . yeah, separate . . . didn’t I see something like that?
I drop the bag, rip it open and take the potions ‘etager’ back out. I open it up and start scanning the little shelves
& . . . arc-en-ciel peau lotion . . . changer le face . . . séparer breuvage.
“AH! Here it is! ‘Seperar Brewvidge’ sounds like ‘separating potion’ to me.”
The thin, vial-like bottle seemed to be filled with bright-red paint, and was corked with a little, rubber stopper.
“I’ll just put this stuff on the furniture, and the birds should come out . . . I hope.”
I try to take the little stopper off . . . but it’s hard to get a grip on the little bottle.
I hold it tight in one hand . . . crunch!
The red liquid squirts out as the vial crushes in my hand and squirts out over me, even some of the glass cuts into my palm
“AH! Damn, that hurts, and this stuff tastes like turpentine . . .”
I rush into the kitchen and put my hand into the sink and start the water running. The stuff seems to wash off easily, taking the glass shards with it into the sink. As the water’s running, I look over at the living room door, which leads from the kitchen into the side of the living room. I can see some of the feathers fluttering out through the door, obviously stirred up by the furniture running around.
Suddenly, something cold, wet and metallic slaps into the back of my hand. I look down at my hand to see what it is . . and I nearly scream
“Oh my god! Where’s my hand!” at the end of my wrist, where my hand usually is, there is slightly rounded stump. I look into the sink, and see my hand is lying under the running water at the bottom of the sink.
“Oh No!” I try wiggling my fingers, and the hand in the sink obeys. “Oh, gross!” I grab my hand out of the sink. It’s so strange, I feel like I’m holding my hands together, but it’s not connected.
“Damn, it’s the separating potion!” I quickly wipe my hand off with a towel, which is hard without two hands, and start searching through the kitchen drawers for something to keep it together.
I find some masking tape and put it on the kitchen bench.
“PERFECT!” I say, as I pick it up, suddenly the world start to topple over . . . oh no!
I grab tight on both sides of my head with my hand and my . . . stump.
“Not my head! No!”
I hold my head straight with my handless arm and start wrapping the masking tape around my head.
I go around about five times and let my head go.
It feels a little crooked . . . oh god!
I take the tape and start taping my hand back on, when I feel something cold and hard slap against my thigh, and I lose my balance. I fall onto my backside and see my right leg, from the knee down has disconnected and is sitting on its side.
“I’m falling apart faster than I can fix myself!”& I scream, scrambling over to my leg and setting it back in place with the sticky tape. I wrap it around and around, when my left arm, at the elbow, hits the floor right on my funny bone.
“AAGH! This is hell!” I scream. I try to peel the tape off one handed by using my teeth, but that nearly dislocates my head again, so I try using my fingers to slowly pry it out. I finally re-attach my arm when my left foot falls off and slaps into the tiles.
I try to get more tape, but the roll is empty.
“No, no no no no no . . .” I grab my foot in one hand and start walking, with one leg shorter than the other, and the other held straight by masking tape, hobbling back to the front entry for the magic bag. I lie down next to the potion rack thing and start scanning through it.
“Come on, there has to be a fixing potion!” I look through the rack and quickly pick up a little, white bottle which looks like a small jar which says: Solution Potion
I quickly pop the cap and swallow it. It tastes like olive oil. I swallow it, but it feels really strange, and seems to get stuck in my throat.
I try to swallow, but it feels like it’s choking me. I lean forward and cough it up, spilling it onto the tiles. No! It won’t work! My head isn’t connected to my body! I can’t swallow it!
Suddenly, behind me, I see the coffee table charging into the hallway.
“No!” I scream.
If that thing runs into me, It’ll snap the masking tape apart and I’ll never fix myself!
I can’t try running around the house, I’ve got to get out of here!
I quickly jump up (as best as I can at the moment) and quickly hop out the front door and slam it shut behind me in time to hear something CRASH! into it.
I look down the driveway, and see something I wasn’t expecting.
A forty-year-old man wearing dark pants held up with red braces over a chequered shirt and a short-brimmed hat on his head. The Magician.
“Hey! It’s YOU!” I shout, I try to point, but the masking tape is too loose, and my hand dangles lamely toward the ground.
The Magician chuckles to himself.
“I see you’ve found my magic bag.” He says, smiling “You’re really quite amusing, I especially enjoyed the part when you tried to read French, very amusing.”.
“You!” I scream “You have to fix this!”
“Have to fix this? You made this mess all on your own, why should I fix this?” I know he’s right, but I don’t dare say that.
“Please then, you can’t leave me like this!” I says, my head becoming more crooked by the second, and I even feel my right shoulder starting to loosen.
“Alright then, I guess I’ll fix it . . .” The Magician claps his hands together, and there’s a blinding white light. I hear a loud scraping like a million chairs being scraped across the floor as the house rearranges itself and banging and clanging as the walls fix themselves. Suddenly, I feel my whole body tingle and start to straighten out. My bones start cracking as they connect back together. And finally, I’m whole again. The light dissipates and I look over at the magician.
“There, both you and your house are fixed again. However, you stole my magic bag.” He says, suddenly frowning, “I’m afraid that’s very bad.”
I feel my whole stomach start to turn, this must be that ‘guilt’ thing
“Uh . . . I’m really sorry Mr . . . Magician, I won’t do it again.”
The Magician waves his hand, and the front door opens and the magic trick bag starts floating out
“Oh, I know you won’t. See, you stole my magic bag, you know my secret . . . and I can’t have that, if people knew that I was a real magician, things would get very . . . difficult.” He takes hold of the bag, and with a faint pop! Nibbles the Bunny appears on his shoulder, twitching his nose.
“I said I was sorry.” I say, trying to sound as apologetic as possible
“Sorry isn’t good enough my boy.” He says, walking up to me so that he is just a metre away.
“You’ve been stealing for quite a long time, but today, you stole from the wrong person. I’m afraid that, now that you know my secret, I can’t let you stay. You’re going to have to disappear.”
Oh no, by his face I can tell he is serious
“But, I’m sorry.” I mumble weakly
“No, dear boy. I’m sorry.” The magician raises his hand, and clicks his fingers. And with that, in that second, in that very instant, the boy known as Darren Reynolds . . . disappeared.
The Magician sighs deeply “Oh, Nibbles, children these days, how will they ever learn . . .” He turns down the driveway and begins walking toward the road, as he walks, he begins to fade into nothingness, until finally, the Magician, Nibbles and the Bag of Tricks . . . were gone.
THE END
