Well do you? Not gadget wizardry - everybody believes in that (for a couple days anyway). I'm talking magic magic. Magicians and bunnies and ladies sawn in half.
Any takers?
Most folks know that magic tricks can somehow be explained. And while a magician will never reveal his secrets, a bit of cash sometimes helps. Y'know the old vanishing-hanky trick? I do. And such knowledge made me, at one time, the most popular travelling white chick in Southeast Asia! The fact that my companion had the greatest dimples that side of the so-called Bamboo Curtain didn't hurt either. I must say, we were quite the hit. Madonna? Move over...
But I digress....
I went to a company Christmas...I mean, holiday party... a few weeks ago. Yes, a few weeks ago. The hosts are not always known for their punctuality. But better late than never, right? Anyhoo, at this soiree, aside from the regular canapes, drinks, and awkward small talk, was a strange-looking guy dressed all in black. I seem to remember a red tie, ut I might be making that part up. He did have platinum blond hair. And seemed to know fewer people than I did. Now there's a feat!
As it turned out, he was The Entertainment. Also known as.....Chris...he soon corrected our host. Also known as: The Great Mysterion!!!! I don't know if he uses the "great" part but trust me, he was. Un-f&cking-believable. He approached our table and asked my man - a true non-believer to be sure - to write down his favourite rock star on a piece of paper. Mysterion thought for a moment, scribbled something, and then da-na-na'd his way through a bit of Led Zeppelin before opening his paper and announcing the name Jimmy Page. My man opened his piece of paper and --Do I need to spell it out for you? J-i-m-m-y. P-a-g-e.
Not convinced? Neither was I. Actually, I totally was. I love this stuff. But I wanted him to work his magic on me. So he did. Told me I was a reader (I was!! I am!!) and asked me to write down a word associated with the book I was reading. I smiled evilly - little did he know that the book I was reading hadn't even been published in Canada! In paperback anyway. I picked it up in London. No one had ever heard of it here. Hee hee. Mysterion? HA! Get ready to be stumped!!!
I wrote down the word "office" (the book was set in an ad agency) Mysterion paced. He closed his eyes. He wrote something down in his little notebook, tore out the page and folded it up. He asked me the name of the book. When I told him "And Then we Came to the End", he shook his head. never heard of it. And he opened his little piece of paper and I opened mine. And guess what? They both said "office".
Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!
He went on to dazzle the crowd. People's birthdays? That's for beginners. This guy was identifying types of cards in wallets. While blindfolded. Laminated obscure id's and family photos - names and dates included. He was getting people to pluck single words out of 300-page novels. And getting them right, every time. Even the naysayers had to admit it was pretty neat.
And yet still there were skeptics! Honestly, what did this guy have to do to prove himself? Some things simply cannot be explained, right? These weren't mere card tricks or slights of hand - tho' he could (and did) do those too. Card after card after card. They weren't simply illusions... Tho' he did, to the chagrin of the waiters, twist a helluva lot of forks that night. No, this was creepy, unexplained stuff. Phenomenons....na....whatever.
He had an audience volunteer place a spike under a styrofoam cup. Then he blindfolded himself and proceeded to smash the cups down one after the next. With each collapsing cup you'd hear the collective intake of breath - even the naysayers liked this one, cuz physical harm was involved. Twisted? Maybe. But he got it right, leaving the last, spiked, one standing. And me with palms sweating. He of course was cooooool as The Fonz.
And on it went. The biggest naysayers? Always someone's date trying to prove themselves...Go figure....They soon lost interest in him, turning to drink. A wise choice, 'cuz they were getting boring. But he sure as hell wasn't. And when his stint was done, and he'd said his good-byes, we all knew the party was over.
And there you have it. How'd he do that? Why doesn't he play the tables in Vegas? Or at least Rama? Does he read fortunes? Do police work? No one knows...
It's all a mystery... It's ma-a-a-a-a-a-gic.
And a lot more entertaining than being a spousal side dish at a company party....
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