Story 240: The Magicrobat

“Come one, come all; step right up; don’t be shy; and any other version on the phrase ‘Get your butts over here’ you can think of, to witness the spectacular spectacle that is The Amazing Acrobatic Magician!”

            If she didn’t promote her own act, who would?

            “Welcome, friends.  You there, little boy in the front, thank you for volunteering!”

            “Uhhhh…?”

            “Here, have the quarter that’s been hiding behind your ear.  I’m kidding; no one wants to see that garbage when they can see this!”  She levitated the child several feet above the stage, circled him once over the crowd, and set him back down in his seat.  “Notice that my lips never moved!”

            She grabbed four hatchets from the floor and began juggling them extremely fast.  “Now, keep your eyes on each of these as I make them disappear one-by-one.”  Each one vanished in mid-toss.  “You, ma’am in the back row, what’s that in your oversized swag bag?”  The audience member pulled out four hatchets and dropped them in shock.  “Voila!  Nothing up my sleeves!”

            She grabbed a deck of cards out of thin air and flung all of them into the audience.  “OK everybody, pick a card!”  All 52 plus one Joker were picked up.  “Memorize it!  You got it?”  She pulled down a trapeze that was hanging nearby, flipped around on it a bit 50 feet in the air, and shouted down: “I’m going to finish with a triple-somersault and land on one foot atop that glass there – ” she pointed with her toe to the glass that had appeared center stage – “and when I have alit upon it, all of your cards will have returned to me.”  She did and they did.  She pulled one out of the deck and held it face out: “Is this your card?”

            “Yes!” One voice called out.

            “I thought so.”  She set some batons on fire.  “For my final trick – ”

            “Awwww,” the crowd groaned in disappointment.

            “Sweet.  For my final trick, I will be throwing these flaming projectiles into the air above us, creating a chemical reaction in the atmosphere that will transform these implements of destruction into a shower of roses that will cascade upon us.  Before I do so, does anyone here have seasonal allergies?”  Several hands raised.  “After this, you will be cured.”  She juggled the batons for another minute, throwing them higher each time and spinning around every so often just to show off, then vaulted them in the air and lay down on the stage for a quick nap as the flowers fell gently on everyone.  She was jolted awake by the thundering applause and $20 bills flung in her direction.

            “Thank you, good people, I do this all for you and your adoration!”

            She had three more shows that day, then off to the next state’s Renaissance Fair – truly, she was living the dream in entertaining the nerds.

Story 239: Mirror World – The Dinner

She drove down the same street for the third time: The restaurant has got to be down here, I know I’m on the right street and the last turn to get here is a right!  Or was it supposed to be a left?  I don’t remember – no, it definitely was a right, has to be.  Has to be…. Then where is it?!

She finally spotted a minimally lit building and parking lot that looked restaurant-ish, so she swerved the car onto the grass to park since zero spots were left.  She barely took in the exterior as she ran the quarter-mile to the entrance: A bit of a dive for a book club dinner, but who am I to judge?  She passed a stumbling drunken couple on their way out, noted the time was 7:40 p.m. – 10 minutes late! – and ran into the dark interior where 57 other people were milling around.  She elbowed her way to the Host’s podium and almost collapsed onto it.

“Hi!”  The Host had no reason to be cheerful in the midst of this rabble.  “Like to put your name on the list?”  The list on the podium was 20 pages long.

“No,” she gasped, “I’m meeting people here – ”  She strained over The Host’s head to scan the room; the lighting was equally minimal inside so that everyone appeared faceless, creeping her out and annoying her simultaneously.

She finally spotted familiar-looking backs-of-heads: “I see them – thanks!”  She elbowed her way through the dining room and fully collapsed onto the chair at the end of her target table.  “Whew!  Sorry I’m late, guys – keep talking, I’ll just look at the menu.”  She grabbed one and scanned the drink list first.

The other three women looked at her for a moment, then resumed their conversation: “So I was saying, that was the last time we spoke since he didn’t answer my calls and the other day I heard he moved back in with his mother.”

“Yeah, dump his sorry rear end,” she said without looking up from the menu; a Server came to the table and she continued: “Yes, could I have an extra-large margarita, the sliders and quesadillas to start, the double taco bowl for the entrée, and the cinnamon fried dough for dessert?  You can bring them all out at once, thanks.”

“We’ll start with the drink.”  The Server took the menu and left.

The conversation went on: “Are you still living in the house you guys shared?”

“No, I burned it down already.”

            “Ahahahaha, that’s hilarious!”  She cackled as her drink arrived; she slurped it noisily.  “I know I shouldn’t on an empty stomach, but that’s what chips are for, am-I-right?”

            “…So, did you collect the insurance on that yet?”

            “No, I have to wait until the investigator gets back to me on whether she’ll take the bribe.”

            “And if she doesn’t?”

            “Then she goes bye-bye and I bribe the next one they send.”

            “You guys are killing me!”  She was really feeling the margarita now.  “What part of the book are you talking about; I can’t remember.  You know what, I think I forgot to finish it, hm.”

            “What book?”

            “Haw-haw.  Was it when the airplane almost crashed?  Or when the uncle turned out to be one of the bad guys, but not the bad guy?  Ooh, ooh, was it when the money was eaten by the pig?”  She slapped the table.  “I totally thought, when that happened, ‘Serves that d-bag right’; what’d you all think, eh?”

            The other three’s silhouettes stared at her.  “What are you talking about?”

            She froze.  “Oh no, oh no, don’t tell me I read the wrong book again?  It took forever to get it from the library!”

            “Why do you keep talking about a book?  What do you think we’re meeting here for tonight?”

            “…To talk about the book?”

            “The agenda we sent you clearly stated that we would be discussing the destruction of our celestial overlords, immediately after recounting personal revenge sagas.”

            “Huh?” 

“If you insist on not paying attention, we seriously need to consider expelling you from the group.  And possibly into space.”

She fumbled in her bag until she found her mini-flashlight and shone it on the other three’s faces.  All four screamed.

They were her friends’ faces, if someone had smushed a mirror on them – that was the only way her mildly intoxicated mind could describe it.  She swung the light around the room and saw the other diners’ and employees’ faces had that same smushed-mirror look to them, and she had the sinking feeling that she had wandered into a real-life sci-fi show.

She calmly switched off the flashlight, dumped it back into her bag, left money on the table for her drink, and stood.

“Ladies,” she said, then ran elbows-first back through the crowd, out the door, and through the parking lot before diving into her car.

She swerved onto the street and drove back the way she had arrived.  A minute later, she saw the restaurant she originally had been searching for, clear as day: Huh, it was a left after all; fancy that.  She carefully parked in the well-lit lot and strolled into the place as if she were not half an hour late.  She spotted her friends immediately and sauntered over to sit at their table.

“There you are!  We were getting worried.”

“No need,” she said as she grabbed a familiar-looking menu.  “Just took a slight detour on the way here.”

“Well, you just missed all the excitement: we first thought you’d gotten here about 10 minutes ago when some woman who sort of looked like you came flying over here in a tizzy, babbling about some overlords discovering our plans and how we’re all doomed, but when she saw us up close she suddenly froze and then bolted out the door.  We thought you were losing it, but now here you are, all normal!”

“Yes.  All normal.”

Story 238: Rent-a-Cuddler

            The Escort knocked on the motel room door and braced himself for the evening’s client to answer.  Maybe it’s not too late to go back to law school, he thought.  Nah, I made the right decision: higher ed’s a scam anyway.

            The door was opened by a woman wearing sweats, slipper socks, and loosely tied-back hair; the hand not holding the door was holding a glass of water.

          “I’m sorry, I have the wrong room,” the Escort said as he cursed himself for not double-checking the room number before he got there, again.

            “Are you from ------?” the woman asked.

            “…Yes?”

            “No mistake – come on in!”  She held the door open wider; he hesitated half a second before entering, noting all exits and anything in reach that could be used as a weapon in addition to his own personal stash.

            Since the unit was an efficiency, there was a kitchen where the Client then headed.  “Want something to drink?”

            Absolutely not.  “I’m good, thanks.”  He racked his brains for the most diplomatic way to redirect the conversation.  “So, any place in mind you’d like me to take you out to first?”

            She popped her head around the kitchen/living room/bedroom wall.  “Oh, I forgot to mention this would be a staying-in night.  You mind?”

            Do I have a choice?  “Not at all.”  He took off his jacket and began to unbutton his shirt.

          The Client chuckled.  “No need for that!”  She re-entered the multi-purpose room carrying a bowl of popcorn.  “I specifically requested someone who is good at cuddling, and that’s all.”

            He froze.  “I was told ‘snuggling.’”

            “There’s a difference?”

            “A bit.”

            She set the popcorn onto the end of one of the twin beds, grabbed a tote bag off of a chair, and began to take DVDs out of it.  “Sorry if there was a miscommunication; I’ll throw in extra if you’re disappointed – ”

            Quite the opposite.  “Not necessary: just let me know what you’d like me to do, I’m here for you.”

            “Aw, that’s sweet,” she said, tossing the bag aside.  “All righty then: so you don’t have to fake being interested for two hours, do you like… sci-fi?”  She held up a DVD.  “Or…mystery?”  She held up another.  “Or… action/thriller?”  Another.  “Or…sci-fi/mystery?”  Another.  “Or… documentary?”  She held up the last with the others.  “You’ll notice there are no chick flicks, dramas disguised as comedies, or depressing disaster films included in the selection – I want you to enjoy yourself.”

            Wow, that’s… nice.  And confusing.  “Umm, any of them would be great.”

            “Oh come on, seriously, which one would you want to see?  Or I can check Pay-Per-View?”

           No extra charges!  “Don’t, please; umm, let’s see.”  He ran his hand over the titles she still was holding, then pointed to the sci-fi/mystery.  “I’ve actually been wanting to see that one – I missed it in the theater.”

            “So did I!  Great minds, huh?”  She laughed as she put the other movies back into the bag and put that DVD into the player.  As it went to the main menu, she grabbed several blankets and pillows from the beds and arranged them on the floor; he helped in order to have something to do.  “Is this too low to watch?  I figured the bed would be too far away.”

            “No, this is fine.”  He sat down on the floor next to her.  “Want me to hold your hand?”

            “Maybe later.”  She held out the popcorn bowl to him.  “Want some?”

            Good thing I had dinner earlier.  “Thanks.”  He waited until she also ate some at the same time, just to be sure.

            She started the movie, then asked: “Ooh, want me to turn off the lights?”

            “Sure, if you like.”

            “I don’t mind either way; I’m asking if you want them off.”

Really?  If she’s so emotionally-starved, why am I the one being pampered?  “Actually, the TV’s glare in a dark room kind of bothers my eyes; doesn’t happened in a movie theater, though, and I have no idea why.”

“On the lights stay, then!  Ooh, that’s great when they open the action with an explosion.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s the mystery part of this one.”

About half an hour later, during a scene with no dialogue, she turned to him: “Mind if we cuddle a bit now?  I’m bummed out that they just killed off the main character.”

“Definitely.”  He set aside the nearly-empty popcorn bowl and put his arm around her shoulders; she settled in comfortably and sighed.  “Want me to massage your back, too?”

“Nope – this is good.”

Some time later, they both flinched as another planet was blown up.

“Wow, I’m glad I didn’t spend $15 to see this in the theater,” she said.  “I’m getting depressed with all this futuristic nihilism.”

“Yeah,” he nodded in sympathy.  “That’s why I’ve only been going to the bargain nights lately – it hurts less when the movie’s a letdown.” 

She looked up at him.  “Want me to put on something else?”

“Nah, we’ve invested so much time in it, we have to see how it ends.”

“Yeah.  Could you hold my hand now, please?”

“Of course.”

They spent the rest of the movie gently holding hands, with the occasional tear coursing down their faces.

By the end, they were starting to fall asleep but the discordantly happy music playing over the credits jolted them awake.  The Client then sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Well, that genre classification was a bit misleading,” she said mid-yawn and mid-stretch.  “The mystery was solved in the first act and the only thing sci-fi about it was the angst was in outer space.”

The Escort stifled his own yawn.  “Yeah, I’ve noticed that happens sometimes – I think they didn’t know what genre they could file it under and picked the closest ones they could think of.”  His phone vibrated to unobtrusively remind him of the time.  “Well, we have about 10 minutes left – ”

“That’s fine, I’m all good now,” she said as she collected the DVD, bowl, pillows, and blankets; he tried to help but only increased the mess.  “You don’t have to stay for the whole time – you’ve been great.”

“Seriously?  I really didn’t do anything.”

“I told you, I only wanted to cuddle.  You were perfect.”

“You know, if everyone was like you, I’d almost be tempted to do this for free.”