by R. L. Stine
I steeled myself and approached the magician. He didn’t look at me. I tapped him on the shoulder.
He toppled over onto his side. Thunk!
Foz gasped. “Is he—? Is he—?”
I peered at the body on the couch. “He isn’t alive!” I cried. “Amaz-O isn’t alive!”
“Oh, no!” Foz was wringing his hands in terror. “Oh, no! He’s dead! He’s dead! Help!”
“He’s not dead,” I said. “He’s a dummy!
“Amaz-O is nothing but a big wooden puppet!”
28
How could it be possible? I stared at the puppet on the couch. I couldn’t resist touching its cheek—then pinching it—just to be sure.
Oh, wow!
It was true. Amaz-O was made of wood.
Foz sputtered, “But—I saw him on TV. He looked totally real.”
“And I saw him live,” I said. “On stage. I stood right next to him, and he made me disappear!”
How can this be? I wondered. How can the greatest magician in the world be a puppet?
“This can’t be the guy you saw,” Foz insisted, poking at the dummy. “This is probably just a dummy he keeps around for fun. The real Amaz-O has got to be around here somewhere.”
Rabbit Ginny squirmed angrily in my arms. “Calm down,” I ordered, trying to pet her.
She growled. I’ve never heard of a rabbit growling before. Only a Ginny-rabbit would growl.
Amaz-O, my idol, I thought bitterly. What a fake he turned out to be. Not only was he a jerk to me—he’s not even a real person! He’s a puppet!
“What are we going to do?” Foz asked.
I shook my head. I had no idea. “Now I’ll never get Ginny changed back into a girl,” I said. “Mom and Dad are going to murder me.”
“Why don’t you tell them she ran away?” Foz suggested. “They’ll never believe you turned her into a rabbit, anyway.”
“Why would she run away?” I demanded. “She was their little darling. She could do no wrong. I’m the one who should run away.”
Foz lifted the Amaz-O puppet’s head, studying it. “I wonder how this thing works….” he said.
A low voice suddenly growled, “Hey, punk—I told you to beat it!”
I froze. “Did you say something, Foz?” I asked.
He shook his head, eyes wide. He’d heard the voice, too.
“So beat it! Get out of here!” the voice growled.
I glanced around the room. I didn’t see anyone.
“Did the puppet talk?” I asked Foz.
“I—I don’t think so,” he stammered. “The voice came from the other side of the room.”
“The puppet didn’t talk, dummy,” the voice grumbled. I turned to find it. I gazed across the room. Amaz-O’s white rabbit sat on a chair in front of the dressing table.
“I told you to get lost. Now get lost!” the rabbit growled.
“Tim—did—did you see that?” Foz stammered. “I think that rabbit talked.”
“Of course I talked, stupid,” the rabbit snarled.
“You talked?” I echoed in amazement.
“I guess that thing on the couch isn’t the only dummy in this room,” the rabbit snapped. “I can do lots of things. I’m a magician.”
Foz and I stared at the rabbit, stunned. Even Ginny stopped squirming in my arms.
“You’re not a magician,” Foz said. “You’re a rabbit.”
The rabbit’s ears twisted. “Duh. You guys are really quick. You know that?”
“You don’t have to be so mean,” I protested.
“You don’t have to be so stupid,” the rabbit replied. “I may look like a rabbit. But so does your little sister. Am I right?”
“He’s got a point,” Foz admitted.
“I am the great Amaz-O,” the rabbit announced. “In person. That dummy on the couch is a puppet I had built to look like me—the old me.”
My jaw fell open. “You’re Amaz-O? What happened to you?”
The rabbit sighed. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say I had a rival—a real powerful one. A sorcerer, actually.”
Foz gasped. “A sorcerer? Do they really exist?”
“I’m telling you about one, aren’t I?” the rabbit shouted.
“Yes, but—”
“So be quiet and listen to the story,” Amaz-O, the rabbit, grumbled. “If you’d stop talking you might learn something.”
Amaz-O sure was a grouch.
“Anyway, long story short,” Amaz-O went on. “This sorcerer guy—Frank—”
“A sorcerer named Frank?” I cut in. I didn’t mean to interrupt. It just slipped out.
The rabbit glared at me. “Yes, a sorcerer named Frank. You got a problem with that?”
I shook my head.
“Can I finish talking now? You got any more stupid questions?”
Foz and I both shook our heads.
“This guy’s named Foz—” Amaz-O gestured toward Foz “—and you want to make fun of a guy named Frank.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to make fun of Frank.”
“He’s a very powerful guy,” Amaz-O said. “I’m proof of that.”
The rabbit hopped out of the chair, crossed the dressing room, and sat on the couch next to the dummy.
“Here’s what happened,” he began. “I was at the height of my fame. I was the most brilliant magician in the world. I made appearances on all the top TV shows. I had millions of fans. Dopey little kids like you looked up to me.”
“Hey!” I protested. “Stop calling us dopey.”
Amaz-O ignored me. He continued, “My tricks were the most amazing anyone had ever seen. And Frank was jealous. He was a sorcerer, working alone in a basement. He could cast amazing spells—but he was kind of ugly, with a high-pitched voice. People didn’t take him seriously.
“He wanted to be famous like me, but he wasn’t. So he turned me into a rabbit. Very funny, right? Ha ha. Turn the magician into a rabbit. Yuk, yuk, yuk.”
Foz and I exchanged baffled glances. Amaz-O was turning out to be a little weird.
“I’m not powerful enough to reverse Frank’s spell,” Amaz-O went on. “I’m a magician, not a sorcerer. But I refused to let him stop me. So I built that mechanical dummy over there. I made him look just like me. And I kept on doing my shows, just as before.”
“So you control the puppet?” Foz asked. “You make it look as if he’s the magician, performing all the tricks?”
“I just said that, didn’t I?” Amaz-O snapped. “Are you hard-of-hearing, kid?”
“You’re really rude, you know that, Amaz-O?” I said. I was getting sick of his put-downs. “You’re the rudest person—or rabbit, or whatever—I ever met in my life!”
Amaz-O’s long ears drooped. “Hey—I’m sorry,” he said. “Being a rabbit gets on my nerves. But also, I can’t let people get too close—you know? I don’t want anyone to find out my secret. It could ruin me.”
Ginny squirmed in my arms again. I’d nearly forgotten all about her. I realized I’d better hurry up and ask Amaz-O to help me change her back.
“We’re in terrible trouble, Amaz-O,” I said, holding Ginny toward him. “This is my sister, Ginny. She ate some of the carrot that was in your magic kit—”
“So you confess, do you? You stole my magic kit!”
“I—I only borrowed it,” I stammered. “I brought it back—see? I’m sorry.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Amaz-O snapped.
“Can you help us, Amaz-O?” I pleaded. “Please, can you help me turn Ginny back into a girl?”
Amaz-O studied Ginny with his beady rabbit eyes. I held my breath waiting for his answer.
He settled deeper into the couch and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “There’s nothing I can do for her.”
29
“Noooo!” I moaned, sinking into a chair. “You were my last chance. I’m doomed!”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Amaz-O said. “There’s nothing I ca
n do for her—because the magic will wear off by itself.”
“Yo! All right!” Foz exclaimed happily. He shot both fists into the air.
“But when?” I asked. “My parents are coming home soon.”
“How many bites of the carrot did she eat?” Amaz-O asked.
“Two,” I replied.
“How long ago?”
“About an hour ago,” I answered.
“Okay,” Amaz-O said. “She should turn back into a girl in half an hour. Do you feel better now?”
I nodded and sighed with relief. That was a close one, I thought. But everything is going to be okay.
“Hey—” Foz said, jumping up. “We’d better hurry up and take Ginny home—before she turns back into a girl. We don’t have enough bikes to go around!”
I pushed Ginny into his arms. “Take her home, Foz,” I said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I wanted to talk to Amaz-O a little longer.
Clutching Ginny in his arms, Foz hurried out of the dressing room. “Don’t stay too long,” he called over his shoulder. “I don’t want to be alone with Ginny when she turns back into a girl. I have a feeling she’s going to be in the mood to karate-chop somebody!”
In reply, Ginny beat her hind legs against his chest.
“I’m right behind you,” I promised. Foz disappeared down the dark hallway.
“Listen, Amaz-O,” I said. “I’m really sorry I stole your magic bag. I know it was a terrible thing to do.”
“Shove this stupid dummy aside and sit down on the couch,” Amaz-O said. I moved the dummy and sat down next to Amaz-O.
“You really love magic, don’t you?” he said.
My heart started pounding. This was the heart-to-heart magician talk I’d been hoping to have with Amaz-O all along!
“It’s my dream to be a magician,” I told him. “A great magician like you. I’d do anything. Anything!”
“Well, you were great in the show the other night,” Amaz-O said. “You disappeared very well, kid.”
“Thanks.”
Amaz-O sat quietly for a moment. He seemed to be thinking.
“Say, kid—” he said at last. “How would you like to join the act? I’m getting really tired of working with that big wooden dummy over there.”
“Me?” Now my heart was really racing. “You want me to join the act?” I got so excited I jumped off the couch. Then I quickly sat down again. “Do you mean it, Amaz-O? Do you think I could?”
Amaz-O hopped over to the dressing room door. He kicked it shut.
“Why don’t we give you a try….”
30
And that’s how I joined Amaz-O’s act. I was so excited about being a magician, I said yes without even thinking about it. I guess I should’ve asked a few questions first.
Don’t get me wrong. I love being on stage in front of clapping, cheering audiences.
But I don’t like hiding inside the black top hat. And I hate it when the Amaz-O dummy pulls me up too hard by the ears. That really hurts.
I also hate it when they forget to clean my cage. Sometimes they forget about it for days!
I guess I made a little mistake. See, when Amaz-O said he was tired of working with the big dummy, I thought he wanted me to take the dummy’s place.
I didn’t realize he wanted to retire—and have me take his place!
I’m not complaining. Amaz-O gives me plenty of juicy lettuce and all the carrots I can eat. I even have a stage name of my own now. At last. It may not be my first choice, but it’s still a professional name—“Fluffy.”
The best part is, I’m on stage every night in a real magic act! My dream—my all-time dream!
How many kids—er—I mean, rabbits—can say their all-time dream came true at age twelve?
I’m really lucky—don’t you agree?
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proofing by Undead.