You see, I'm a magician

 You see, I’m a magician

March 13

Dear Diary:

You see, I’m a magician. And it can be a tricky business. I write that as if it is news to me. But I want these diary entries to be recorded. I won’t be around this place long, so I want the story told. I’ve already left a note beside this diary that I purchased today. It tells the reader to give the diary and my wand to my nephew Todd. He has talked about maybe becoming a magician. I’m moving on to where people have never heard of me.

           Where do I begin? When I was a boy, I started doing card tricks. I had read about them in a magazine called Young Magician, and I wanted to see whether the tricks would work. They did.

           I went from that simple stuff to more complicated tricks. My first ‘public performance’ was in front of my grade five class. I can still see the surprised looks on their faces when I fooled them, again and again, with tricks that had been practiced for decades, maybe centuries by magicians.

           I had no idea how it would end.

March 14

Dear Diary:

           I begin again. When I dropped out of high school, I joined the circus. They had a magician there, Alfred the Magnificent was his billing.  I so much wanted to learn from him. When I wasn’t setting up and tearing down, and cleaning up elephant poop, I would watch his performances. And when his show was over, he would tell me things about magic, and show me how to perform the simpler of his tricks .

           He was generous with his time, his stories and his explanations. He was my mentor. Being young and very curious, I wanted to learn every trick he knew. But there were some he would not teach me. I began to notice that all of them involved his wand. I asked him about those tricks, but he did not seem to want to tell me anything.

March 15

Dear Diary:

           Alfred was just about to retire, or “vanish” was the word that he used. The day before he vanished, he took me away from the circus grounds to tell me something he said that I needed to know. Usually he would be easy-going, telling jokes when we were together. That day was different. Alfred was completely serious.

           He showed me his wand. It was made out of a very dark wood. He used it for his most complicated tricks, the ones that he had not yet explained to me. He put his finger over his lips, showing me that I should not talk about this to anyone.

           “Come follow me,” he said. He sounded deadly serious. We walked for about an hour. We came to a small depression in the land, not really a valley. In the middle was a well, the old kind with a bucket and a handle to crank it up with. I could see the bucket right away. He unhooked it and let it drop into the water. I looked down. The well was so deep and dark that I could not see the bucket. Then he cranked it up again.

           He then soaked the wand in the bucket, leaving it in the water for at least five minutes. “My uncle dug this well, with some substantial machinery. His house was nearby before the meteor struck this land. Crushed it like a bug. Fortunately, he was touring with his magic show at the time.”

           Alfred then lifted the wand out of the water. “This used to be my uncle’s wand. A long time ago he showed me what I am about to show you now. Pay close attention.” 

           First he knocked the wand hard with his right  hand. I could hear that it was hollow.

“The wand focuses it.” He didn’t tell me what the “it” was. But he showed me.

           Alfred pointed the wand at a small rock. In almost no time at all it flew at him and he caught it with the hand that was free. I could find nothing to say. Then he repeated the action with sticks and other stones until I got the point. He got me to try the same thing a few times, to my great joy. Then he grabbed my hand, looked deep into my eyes, and said the words I would later dread: “But you must never, ever point the wand at anyone. The consequences could be nasty.”

March 16

Dear Diary:

           Alfred left soon after that, and gave me his wand. He gave me some ideas, and I soon came up with a few good ones of my own, some ‘impossible’ tricks I could do with it. My ‘career’ as the magician at the circus started shortly afterwards. After 10 years of that work, I moved to the big stage in the city. I thought that my dreams had come true.

March 17

Dear Diary:

The big stage was a great gig. I had large appreciative audiences and it paid very well. Of course, the tricks that I could pull off with the wand, after driving to the well, and properly dousing it, were the key to my success there. But the doused wand would eventually be the cause of my downfall. Too much magic can be a dangerous thing. Never perform magic in anger.

March 18

Dear Diary:

           My downfall began one day when the teenage grandson of the owner first came for the Sunday matinee of the show. He sat right up front, in a position of privilege. After he saw a few of my simpler, warm-up tricks, he started to loudly exclaim, “Cheap tricks. Cheap tricks. This is nothing but cheap tricks. He’s no real magician.” He continued it off and on during the show.

           He came to later shows, sat in the same seat, and said the same things over and over. It was really beginning to bother me. It was disturbing my performance. But I could not say anything to the owner, as he saw no flaws in the boy. In his eyes, his grandson could do no wrong.

           Then one day, a week ago, it happened. I had just returned from the well, and was going to my dressing room to get ready for my Saturday night show, the one that had the largest crowds and the loudest applause. When I entered my dressing room, the grandson was there waiting for me. He began to yell out his odious words “cheap tricks, cheap tricks, you do nothing but cheap tricks. You’re no real magician.” 

           I completely lost it. I pointed my wand right at him, directly at his crotch, and said some magician-sounding gibberish. Within seconds there were results. The piss flew in flood proportions, soaking his pants from top to bottom. He screamed and ran out of the room, sloshing all the way.

           I laughed at first, almost peeing myself as well. I am an old man. But the laughter ended soon. The owner told me that after my next performance, I was no longer wanted on the big stage.

March 19

Dear Diary and Nephew Todd

           You know about the ‘wand incident’ and how I got fired. I am old enough to retire, and have saved up enough to do so comfortably. Take the wand along with the diary. And remember, “Don’t ever point the wand at anyone……Unless you really have to.”

Your Uncle John