Tuesday, November 22, 2005

The Fabulous Fabulatio was the most fabulous magician of all times. It said so on his business card. At a recent performance he requested a volunteer from the audience. Beautiful girl hands went up, and he selected the prettiest one he saw. He sealed the hand and the rest of the girl in a solid plywood cabinet large as a phone booth. When he reopened the box, she had vanished, which was what she was supposed to do. What she didn't do was return when he called out the magic words. Nor when he called them out again. Or the dozen magic expletives he used for emphasis. He tried anew with another pretty volunteer, and the same events repeated. Her absence remained as vehement as his claim on the card. Fabulatio declared the magic cabinet wasn't working properly, and fielded another pretty volunteer. This one vanished in a spectacular flash of spinning mirrors. And remained spectacularly gone. The next turned to nothing under a sweep of his velveteen cape. Still another dissolved in a rainbow of confetti fired from a cannon. But none returned. By this time he was running out of props, and pretty volunteers, plus the audience realized that his nervous banter was no longer part of the show. They started to boo and throw tomatoes and walk out. He was ruined. He never worked again. Except in Las Vegas. Meanwhile, the girls, who had collected backstage, decided to head for the rock concert together - with tickets provided by their cousin, uncle, and good friend, The Illustrious Illusio.

Story #312

Note from Indeterminacy: I didn't like my original story so I rewrote it slightly. For the record, I've reposted the original in the comments

I came back and decided to dedicate this story to Lonnie of onemanbandwidth.com, who among other details in his illustrious resumé is a hobby magician!


Unknown said...

Are my missing socks anywhere near there?

Indeterminacy said...

That's probably another corner of the universe where all the socks go. I think that's were mine all went to. I didn't like today's story so I've replaced it. If anyone's interested, here is the original:
There is a corner of the universe collecting girls ever more by every minute. Here a magician places his assistent in a sturdy oak cabinet, there he vanishes her with mirrors, and elsewhere nothingness replaces her form under a collapsing silk tapestry. However it is done, her girlhood essence appears in the fantasy place at the one-way booths of entrance. Friendships form by the coincidence of simultaneous arrival and together the friends commune in the neverland niche, darting off on joyous romps sweetened with giggles and the innocent coquetries of youth. Their echoes touch us in daydreams and nightdreams and form the crest of the wave ridden by imagination. Playfulness is born of them, fairy tales and fables. Begat of magical illusions, they have now become the source of all that is magic. And the magicians must find a new assistent.

Indeterminacy said...

COme to think of it, maybe Doug's smelly old socks ARE somewhere in that story.

Unknown said...

My smelly socks are in every story. They're one the five archetypes. Jean Valjean had a mismatched pair.

The Mushroom said...

The new modern convenience offered in the Neimann-Marcus 2005 Holiday Catalog: Girls By The Crate! Order now for delivery by December 24. Buy two and save!

One girl in a crate: $50,000
Two girls in a crate: $85,000

I love travelling with two of them, because if there's a conversation... *I* don't have to be involved! - David Lee Roth

Tom & Icy said...

Wow! A two for one sale! What a deal. And both were good stories. Thanks!

lula said...

I wonder if Doug's missing socks goes to the same corner of the universe where my panties disappear to after an all night party?

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Indeterminacy said...

Doug: We need a washing machine archteype and some archetypal disinfectants to deal with those socks of yours.

Mushroom: Now we're getting somewhere with this picture. Your idea is simple and elegant. I long for the old days when I was still able to write them really short.

Tom&Icy: I'm puzzled that the original story doesn't come across as universally bad. Guess the "artist" is never the best judge of his/her work.

Lula: Probably souvenir hunters. Give Tom&Icy a sniff. Maybe they'll come running back with your panties dangling between their teeth.

Miles to Go: Thanks for a great contribution. I enjoy fantasy/satires like this. Your visits here have certainly been enriching.