Stage Fright

Stage Fright

“My name is Vigo Hanesh and I’m a conjurer.”

The auditorium reeked of late-afternoon apathy and crushed egos. Everyone – the production team, stage security, the three judges – looked sweaty and tired.

The judges stirred in their seats – Ms Simper and Messrs Gushing and Hardass.

Gushing spoke between sips of tepid mineral water. “Well, Vigo, what are you going to show us today?”

I removed my frock coat to reveal rolled shirts sleeves and a tight-fitting waistcoat. “I’ll forgo the usual hocus-pocus in favour of brevity. Simply put, I’ll produce any three items you care to name, as long as they’re small enough to fit under my coat.”

Simper stared at me, dull-eyed and listless. Hardass looked up from his notes, tapping his gold-plated pen. Gushing licked his lips. “Anything? How can you possibly know what we’d ask for?”

“Any three objects you care to name.” I smiled. “Ladies first.”

Simper blinked, seemingly unsure of what was happening. “Ah, well… flowers. A bunch of flowers, that’s what you’re supposed to make appear, isn’t it?”

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