For My Next Magic Trick, I Will Allow Myself to be Carried on the Wings of a Thousand Doves to Literally Anywhere Else
Where will I go on the wings of a thousand doves? A great question. The answer is anywhere else. After my next and final magic trick, I will be gone from this carpeted cafeteria-stage, never to return. I might in fact never perform at an elementary school again. And I have you all to thank for that.
Take Bobby Pick-And-Flick in the front row, here. In the absence of roses, he’s taken to throwing boogers at my feet. Throughout the entire show. And who can forget Gretchen Gumpop in the back? As it turns out, I trained all over Europe under some of the greatest magical minds to need just a little extra in the way of special effects. Which Gretchen so generously provided. The whole performance.
I’ll say this, Gretchen: you take initiative. You didn’t wait for me to ask if you could pop your gum repeatedly, over and over, at distractingly consistent intervals. You just did it.
Regarding the rabbit that Quentin Quick-Fingers in the front row stole from my hat: he’s yours, kiddo. It’s not like I spent months training him, after all. I’ll get another one. Any old rabbit will do. I’ll just have the doves fly me to the pet store. Unless, that is, the pet store is anywhere near here. I’d rather them drop me in the middle of the ocean, or perhaps in an oven. Who likes Magician Cookies?
I see I got your attention with “cookies.” There are no cookies. This is a magic show. Not The Great British Bake Off. You all know that, don’t you? You’re at least aware of that much? That I’m here to do magic tricks? Not bake cookies?
Stop looking up at me when I say cookies.
By the way, I want to say thank you to whoever gave my Queen of Hearts a twirly mustache and big, round glasses. This surely wasn’t a special deck of cards given to me by one of the most accomplished sleight-of-hand magicians ever to ask, “Is this your card?” And the look on my face when I saw the defaced card — just another magic trick. I call it, Salty Blurry Water Eyes.
You all seemed to really love that one.
You’ve perhaps heard a magician never reveals their secrets. That was true, once. Before people like iPhone Ingrid over here learned how to use Google, there was still some semblance of mystery surrounding most tricks. There was also some semblance of mystery regarding my actual age, phone number, and home address. But iPhone Ingrid put an end to that.
Teachers — isn’t students’ use of cellphones usually prohibited in elementary schools? Not during magic shows? That’s where you draw the line? For the sake of my dwindling self-respect, I’m not going to ask how you came to that decision.
Speaking of where the line is drawn, I know these are children, but theft isn’t a joke. Talking to you again, teachers and administrators. When I went to pull a quarter from behind Peter Pickpocket’s ear, he stole $40 from my wallet. You heard his response when I asked for it back. He said he couldn’t give it back because it was a “magic trick.” That’s not cute. That’s stealing. I want my $40 back.
By the way, Interrupting Isaac — yes, you in the very back row — I know you don’t have Tourette’s. It’s not funny to pretend to have a neurological disorder. And I don’t appreciate you yelling, “DAVID BLAINE,” every time I finish a trick.
I’d like to point out to everyone that the thousand doves I’m soon going to fly away on are much better behaved than this 4th and 5th grade class. Look at these doves. A thousand of them locked in this cage and they’re content to wait until their moment. Patient. Benevolent. Not looking up my age on the Internet. Hey, wait. Who’s that in the doves’ cage? Hey, you, get out of there. Out. Your dove costume doesn’t fool me. Get back to your seat.
Was he wearing that when he came to school today?
I’m not going to waste any more of your time. Hey, eyes up here. The magic is on stage, not in your watch. It’s time to release the doves. Okay, quit looking down at all your watches. Just because I say “time” doesn’t mean you have to check the time. What is wrong with all of you?
Rise, doves. Remove me from this wretched place.
This is it. I’m actually doing it. I’m flying!
Doves, sharp right. We can’t leave this way.
Doves, make a sharp right. Quickly now. We’re going to hit the wall.
Don’t split up, doves. You won’t be able to carry my weight. Doves, what’re you doing? Doves, make a unified sharp right, don’t split off into two different directions. Doves, don’t — !
Oh, God. My head.
What’s that noise?
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was cheering.