Business

           Business sucks. Damn it. Business sucks. This pandemic has killed profits. Motherfucker. A magician never reveals their secrets, but sales suck and maybe I could sell my secrets on an informercial. The Great George sells his coveted secrets for $500 a pop. Then, at least, I could pay my motherfucking rent, if anyone buys it. See, people used to watch QVC and HSN, but with the economy, I don't know if people still do. Or if they do, if anyone still orders anything. See, a magician is never supposed to sell his secrets, but a lot of us make their money that way, but then everyone knows their secrets, they wind up on Youtube, and nobody comes to see us perform. A lot of people think SAM and IBM are things of the past. Their magazines used to be good, but now they suck. Damn it. Gotta get the magazine to be a member and use it for kinder. See, kids used to care about magic, balloon animals, the circus, juggling, levitation acts, but kids nowadays just want to play online games and create characters. Damn it. See, it's an oath us magicians used to make to each other, that we don't reveal each other's secrets. Think of it like the magician's Hippacratic oath. Or, something like that. 

           But, this is all I've been trained to do. I dropped out of high school, never got my GED, no college degree, but I've been supporting myself and my family with this for the last ten years. Now what? Oh, yeah, almost forgot to tell you what SAM and IBM are: SAM is Society of American Magicians, IBM is International Brotherhood of Magicians.  So, I could get the run of the mill dead-end job, like working at McD's or some other fast food joint. I could work as a cashier, but grocery stores have automatic scanners now, so that's out. I could bet morons in bars using my magic tricks. Or be a street performer betting people. I am good at sales. Hell, if I was good at sales, I could sell cars. We'll make your automobile problems disappear. Right? Right. 

           They say, You can't teach an old dog new tricks, so I start going to bars and do the elevens on the other attendees who are good and drunk and start making some profits, besides getting a few drinks myself. But, the manager of the bar says he wants to talk to me, alone, in the back. Not a good thing to hear when you're clients are wasting money on you instead of on the bar. But, it's somewhat of a surprise. This motherfucker wants me to audition for him next week with a three minute act. Why three minutes? Because drunks have short attention spans and he's not licensed to allow strippers in his bar, but magicians, as far as he knows, there's no law against.  So, the first thing I'll have to do is audition. I've auditioned so many times in my life, but for kids, not for drunks. Do drunks like juggling, balloon animals, card tricks, mentalism, or what? What if one of them gets into a fist fight with me? 

           My significant other says she just wants me to make money without being arrested and this would allow me to do that. It seems good. So, I practice. I know what card you're going to pick, I know what color you'll choose, I know how to make both sides match, etc. Mostly kids stuff. So, I look up what kind of magic adults like and get all kinds of things: technical magic, stripper magic, swear words, double entendres, etc. 

           The nice thing is, if the manager hires me, they'll be paying me instead of me having to dupe some motherfucking drunk into a bet.  So, I come up with a musical bit with some semi-empty beer cans, the stacking nails bit, the svendali deck bit, the McCormick deck, and some other shit no one but a motherfucking magician could ever figure out. 

           So, I go in, on Tuesday at 3:00 pm in a suit and tie, professional, and audition. I get the gig, but drunks are good at talking about their bullshit, but they suck at listening. They're also loud like their fucking deaf and fist fights and vomitting is everywhere. At least I don't have to clean it up, anymore. Whew. 

           Then, this weird-looking woman comes in with heavy make-up, wearing about thirty-bras, to make herself look . . . well, you know. You've been to bars and from the looks of her, she's been to a few before this one. Then, she asks me if I'm the babysitter. No, I'm the magician. She keeps saying though, I must be the damn baby sitter, and she pays her tab and walks out. So, I go to the next stool and start performing there, but the bitch comes back with toddlers, of all things. The bartender tells her, “Eh-eh. No one under the age of 21 allowed in. Get those kids outta here before you make me lose my liquor license. No, they're just here to see the magician. Oh, great idea. Why don't we bring our kids into a biker's bar filled with cigarette smoke and alcohol? Why didn't I think of that? Moron. But, hell, if the bartender agrees, sober kids are easier to entertain than drunk adults. Believe it or not, the bartender agreed, but it had to be outside the bar (on the patio), the kids had to order at least two non-alcholic drinks, and he didn't want nothing from the police. But, I'd still get paid. So, we went outside and I started doing my old kids magic tricks like having Winnie the Pooh in a pillow case and saying, “Someone went poo in the bag,” and everyone laughing when they see Winnie. And magic tricks with basic math. But, the kids loved my characters (always use characters with kids) and more kids started stopping by. We made sure their parents ordered them drinks and I kept performing and the bar made a lot more money. 

           Then, I started thinking we could make an outside stage for me, like a puppetteer stage, but without puppets. I could open the curtain and greet everyone with an opening tricks to catch their attention like shaking a soda can. But, see, the trick to being a good magician is being a good seller, owning the stage, teasing, and acting surprised. Maybe even put in a few jokes. But, the crowds kept growing each night. Who cares, I got a job, a wife, kids, and rent. Life is good.