The Unbelievable Oliver and the Four Jokers

by Pseudonymous Bosch

  “The Great Zoocheeni took my money,” said Oliver nervously. “I won’t have any more until I get paid for the magic show.”

  “Magic show! Why didn’t you say so? I know a thing or two about magic. What tricks you got up your sleeve, kid?”

  Oliver didn’t know any tricks.

  “Let me get this straight,” the rabbit said as he returned Oliver’s nose. “You don’t even know the Four Jacks? It’s the oldest trick in the book! Also known as the Four Kings. Four Queens. Or Four Whatever Card You Want to Use.”

  “My deck doesn’t have four of any card,” said Oliver. “Except jokers. And I think they come from different decks.”

  The rabbit twitched his nose in dismay. “And yet you say you’re a magician?”

  “No . . .”

  “Well, not with that attitude, you aren’t! You got a gig, though, huh?”

  Oliver nodded glumly. “A birthday party.”

  “Birthday? I haven’t worked a birthday party in years. All those little monsters pumped up on sugar and running wild—no thank you. Still, you could do worse than to talk to me.”

  “Wait, you can talk!” Oliver only then realized he’d been chatting with a woodland creature for several minutes.

  “Yeah, kid, whadya think I’ve been doing? So, whose birthday is it? How many invited? Any wise guys?”

  “It’s Maddox’s birthday party. It’ll be a big party. He invited the whole class. Except me.”

  “Ah, so we’re sneaking in the side door, are we? That’ll teach ’em.” The rabbit nodded approvingly. “What’s the take?”

  Oliver shrugged. He didn’t know what the take meant.

  “The money, kid. The haul.”

  “Oh!” Oliver said. “A lot, I think. He has a pool.”

  “A pool, huh?” The rabbit thought it over. “Aboveground or . . . Never mind—let’s cut to the chase. It just so happens that I have a little leisure time right now. And there’s these guys in Reno who, well, I could use the dough. Know what I’m saying?”

  Oliver had no idea what the rabbit was saying, but he nodded anyway.

  “Good, good, I knew you had to be sharper than you seemed,” said the rabbit enthusiastically. “What do you say we go partners on this birthday business. We split it Even-Steven, right down the middle. Sixty-forty. Give me a paw.”

  Oliver was pretty sure that an even split would be fifty-fifty. Then again, he wasn’t very good at math. He extended his hand.

  “What’s your name again, kid?” the rabbit asked.

  “Oliver.”

  “I’m gonna call you Ollie.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” Oliver said. “What’s your name?”

  “Well, Ollie, I’m Benny.”

  “As in bunny?” Oliver laughed.

  “No, as in Benny.” The rabbit turned his back on the boy. “Nothing bunny about it. Nothing funny, either, Ollie . . . Wait. What do you call yourself?”

  “I just told you: Oliver.” Oliver was beginning to think that this talking rabbit was a bit nuts.

  “No, no, your stage name, kid. You can’t be a magician without a stage name. You know, the Amazing . . . the Magnificent . . .”

  “Oh.” Oliver had actually given this a little bit of thought. “I was thinking, maybe, the Great Oliverini?”

  The rabbit shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  “You’re saying that should be my name?” Oliver struck a magical pose. “The Unbelievable Oliver!”

  Benny covered his sunglasses with a paw.

  Maddox’s Birthday “Farty”

  Oliver lived only a few blocks away, but Maddox may as well have lived on a different planet. A planet with greener grass, cleaner roads, and, Oliver suspected, meaner residents.

  A guardhouse and gate blocked the entry to Maddox’s street. You had to say a password just to drive in.

  The password was “Maddox’s Party.” Bea and Teenie made their papa practice first.

  “Try to act cool about it,” said Bea. “Don’t let the guard know that you’re nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous,” their papa said.

  “Just say something like, We’re here for MADDOX’S PARTY,” said Teenie, winking.

  “Estamos aquί para la fiesta de Maddox,” said their papa, winking back.

  “En ingles!” said the twins, giggling.

  (Even though his grandparents came from Mexico, their papa did not grow up speaking Spanish—a grave misfortune he tried to make up for by speaking the language with his daughters whenever he could.)

  “And don’t wink!” added Bea.

  Teenie, Bea, and Oliver were crowded in the backseat along with Bea’s backpack and Maddox’s gift, which was decorated with a drawing of what might or might not have been a flying cat.

  “It’s a Robo-Kitty Deluxe II,” Teenie whispered to Oliver. “A robot cat! But don’t tell anybody.”

  Oliver had nobody to tell, except maybe Benny, who’d already heard everything, since he was hiding in the hat atop Oliver’s head. The rabbit tried to be quiet but couldn’t help farting occasionally. The car was starting to smell as they arrived at the guardhouse.

  “Who’s doing that?” asked Bea, looking at Oliver. Oliver smiled weakly.

  “We’re here for Maddox’s farty,” said Papa to the guard.

  Everyone laughed—even the guard, who waved them in, and at the same time waved away the smell.

  Benny lifted the hat slightly and whispered to Oliver:

  “What do you have under there?!” asked Bea in alarm.

  “Where?” Teenie asked.

  Bea pointed to the hat. “It moved!”

  “Tell them it’s dandruff,” Benny whispered to Oliver. “Or lice.”

  But Teenie was too quick. She lifted Oliver’s hat, revealing Benny’s twitching nose. “There’s a rabbit on your head!”

  Bea stared in disbelief. “Wow. It’s almost like you’re a real magician!”

  “Almost,” Oliver said, nervously readjusting his hat. “But keep it secret. Benny, er, the rabbit is the big finale.”

  He and Benny had agreed that the rabbit should appear only briefly. And should never, ever speak in front of others. No need to raise questions.

  They could tell which house was Maddox’s right away. It was the biggest in a row of already big houses, and it had the fanciest cars parked in front. Also, it was decorated with big balloon letters spelling M-A-D-D-O-X.

  Bea and Teenie entered the party, holding Maddox’s present between them because they both wanted credit for bringing it.

  Oliver followed, holding his stomach because it was turning over and over like a washing machine.

  “Are Maddox and his friends talking to a clown?” asked Bea when she was done marveling at the height of the entry room’s ceiling.

  The birthday boy was standing next to his three very unfriendly friends, Joe, Jayden, and Memphis. This was not surprising. Maddox was almost never not standing with them. What was surprising was that he was also standing next to a man with a bright red nose and a big curly wig—and, mysteriously, a cape. (As a rule, clowns don’t wear capes.) On the man’s shoulder was a white bird, also wearing a clown nose.

  Oliver thought he recognized them, but from where he couldn’t remember. Thankfully, he didn’t know any clowns.

  Maddox’s mother approached.

  “Mom, tell him to go home!” Maddox shouted. “I don’t want some pathetic clown!”

  “I’m so sorry. I must have the wrong burrrthday partay,” said the clown, sounding not at all sorry.

  He swung his cape around in a very un-clown-like fashion. The bird swung its wing in the same way. Then they brushed past Oliver and exited the premises.

  Maddox grabbed Teenie and Bea’s gift with barely a glance, then dumped it off on his big friend
Joe, who did all of Maddox’s heavy lifting.

  Maddox’s mom smiled apologetically at Bea and Teenie. “That wasn’t your magician, was it? The Unbelievable Oscar?”

  “Oliver,” Oliver mumbled.

  “Oh, so you’re Oscar?” said Maddox’s mother. “Wonderful.”

  Maddox glared. “What’s he doing here?!”

  “Now that’s not very nice,” Maddox’s mother chided. “This young man is a professional magician. And we’ve asked him to do a show! Won’t that be fun?”

  Maddox’s response made it clear that he did not think it would be fun.

  He appeared to be throwing a tantrum, but of course that was impossible, as this was his ninth birthday and nine was far too old for tantrums.

  Eventually, it was decided that Oliver could stay and do the magic show. In return, Maddox would get to open presents first.

  Benny, for one, was relieved. “We’re in, kid!” the rabbit shouted from inside the hat. “Getting in is always the hardest part. Except for getting out.”

  Bea looked suspiciously at Oliver. “Did you say something?”

  “Just my stomach. I’m nervous about the show.” That much was true at least.

  “Everyone, change of plan,” Maddox’s mother announced. “Please come to the den.”

  On their way into the party, all the third graders of Nowonder Elementary had been handed maps of the premises.

  What’s the difference between a den and a living room? Oliver wondered as he checked his map.

  The Grand Opening

  Soon the whole third grade was gathered in the den, watching Maddox tear through a mountain of gifts while a football game played silently on the giant screen behind him. (To judge by Maddox’s house, a den was basically a living room with a big TV—so big, in this case, that it took up an entire wall.)

  Just like at school, Maddox sat in the middle of the room, flanked by his flunkies: Memphis, Joe, and Jayden.

  “Clothes! Gross,” he said, shaking a big box. “What am I supposed to do with those?”

  He tossed the box aside, unopened.

  Oliver watched from the patio outside. Judging by the dwindling pile of presents, he had only minutes to prepare for his show.

  “I built this already.”

  “I already have a real one.”

  “Homemade slime? Yuck. Store-bought is better!”

  As Maddox rejected one gift after another, his friends cheered and jeered.

  Nearby, a housekeeper gathered the torn wrapping paper and misplaced birthday cards.

  “We need those so we can send thank-you notes later,” Maddox’s mother explained. Maddox had never written a thank-you note in his life, but she remained optimistic.

  Finally, only the gift from Bea and Teenie was left. Maddox eyed the flying cat drawing with disdain. “Who drew that? It looks like it’s for a girl.”

  “Maddox!” scolded his mother.

  “Whatever.” He picked up the gift, about to toss it away.

  “Meow!” said the gift.

  “What the—” Suddenly interested, Maddox ripped open the package.

  “Whoa! Finally, something good. An RK-D2! Cooooool.”

  “Oh!” At this change in attitude, Maddox’s mother’s ears perked up. “Who was that from?”

  “Who cares?” Maddox said. “It’s mine now.”

  Bea raised her hand. “We got him the RK-D2. Me and Teenie. And Oliver . . . kinda.”

  “Thank you, girls.” Maddox’s mother smiled at the twins. “Maddox, don’t you want to thank Beatriz and Martina and Oliver . . . kinda?”

  “Thank you, oh thank you, Beatriz and Martina and Oliver . . . kinda,” said Maddox in a tone some might call sarcastic. (Others might call it mean.) “But nobody else!”

  “I was going to get him that,” Memphis whispered to Teenie, who pretended not to hear.

  Through the sliding glass doors, Oliver could see that the present pile had disappeared. It was almost showtime.

  “Focus, kid,” Benny shouted from inside the hat. “It’s great that you’re doing your breathing exercises, but focus!”

  Oliver wasn’t doing breathing exercises. He was hyperventilating.

  “I’m sorry,” Oliver said. “I’m trying.”

  They’d been drilling the same simple trick for the last five minutes, but Oliver wasn’t getting it.

  “Maybe it works better if you’re a rabbit,” said Oliver.

  Maddox’s mother approached to see the young magician talking to his hat.

  “Is that part of your mystique, talking to a hat? A magician has to have mystique.”

  “What?” asked Oliver, startled.

  “It’s time for the show,” said Maddox’s mother. “You better rub your lucky rabbit’s foot.”

  “You better not!” came the instant reply from inside Oliver’s hat.

  Maddox’s mother smiled uncertainly. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  Oliver was not ready.

  Showtime!

  For Oliver’s show, the patio had been outfitted with red velvet curtains, a blinking neon sign, and rows of folding chairs that now contained the entire third-grade class, excluding Oliver. Twenty-four kids. All staring at him with varying degrees of disinterest and suspicion.

  It was like looking at his class photo, which he’d also been excluded from. (Well, not exactly excluded, just blocked by a few taller kids.)

  Benny paced nervously on top of his head.

  “Okay, Ollie, this is it—showtime!” the bunny whispered in his ear. “Years of practice and preparation, sweat and tears, and it all comes down to this one moment. Weaker souls would crumble at a time like this. But you—well, I know you, and what I know about you . . . well, it’s not a lot, honestly.”

  In front of Oliver was a microphone on a stand. He’d never used a microphone before and he didn’t want to use one now, but Bea and Teenie had requested it.

  “It’s part of your rider,” Bea said. “Along with four pieces of birthday cake.”

  Oliver wasn’t sure what a rider was, but it seemed to impress Benny. “Next time, have them ask for carrots—a dozen, and by a dozen, I mean thirteen, a bunny’s dozen,” the bunny specified.

  For his part, Oliver was happy just to have four pieces of cake.

  “Two slices are for us,” Teenie clarified.

  The mic stand was too tall. Oliver lowered it as far is it would go, which was still a full foot over his head.

  “That’s great, kid.” Benny pawed at Oliver’s scalp. “You’ve got ’em laughing. Now hit ’em with another joke.”

  Oliver couldn’t remember any jokes. The microphone “joke” had not been intentional.

  Sensing that he needed encouragement, Bea stood up. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, let’s give it up for the Unbelievable Oliver!”

  She started clapping madly. Nobody joined her except Teenie and Rose, another class outcast, who was always wearing cat ears. Oliver had been a little surprised to see her at the party. If even Rose was invited, what must Maddox think of him?

  Luckily, the sight of Rose reminded Oliver to think about cats in underwear. It helped a little. He forced himself to speak.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Today Maddox is nine years old. That’s old, huh? I’m still eight. Say, what did Zero say to Eight? Anyone?”

  “Nice belt?” Teenie chimed in.

  “Why thank you, it’s new.” Oliver bowed to the total silence of the crowd. “Get it? The middle of the eight is the belt.”

  Oliver swallowed. “So who’s ready for some magic?”

  Nobody spoke up. Rose tentatively raised her hand, then dropped it. Oliver proceeded anyway.

  “I need a volunteer. Anyone? You, young man.” He pointed to Maddox, who responded with a dead stare.

  �
�I’m going to go play with my robo-cat,” Maddox said, and ran toward the kitchen.

  But it’s your birthday, Oliver thought, paralyzed. This show is for you.

  “Never mind him,” Benny whispered. “Just keep talking. Silence is the enemy. Skip to the French Drop if you’re stuck.”

  Oliver gathered his courage to continue. “Do you by chance have a quarter, Mrs. Maddox’s Mom?”

  Maddox’s mother gamely handed the young magician a quarter. He displayed it with a flourish, before attempting to pinch it in his right hand.

  Press coin between thumb and forefinger.

  Use your thumb to lift the coin up and over your knuckles.

  “Accidentally” drop the coin.

  Don’t panic.

  Cover the coin with your shoe.

  “And voilà, it’s gone!”

  In the rush of motion, he dropped the coin.

  “As you can see, the coin has . . . d-disappeared,” he stammered. “But I’m no burglar. That was your quarter and you deserve it back.”

  Oliver had no way to get the quarter off the ground without being noticed. “Hey, Benny,” he said under his breath. “Do you have a quarter?”

  “Sure thing, Ollie,” Benny whispered back. “You’re gonna have to pull me out of the hat, though. You up for it?”

  Oliver didn’t feel up for anything. Nonetheless, he lifted the hat from his head.

  “I always keep spare change in my hat.” Oliver offered the hat to Maddox’s mom. “Check and see.”

  Benny hid under the hat’s false bottom as she reached for the coin.