by Jeff Strand
“Oh, sure, sure, absolutely.”
“I’m also told that the name of my business will be prominently featured on the sides of the shark tank?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And perhaps you could incorporate my website address into your spiel during the trick?”
“Yep.”
“And if other magicians come up to you after the trick and ask where you got the shark, you’ll give them my name, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ve got a deal.”
• • •
Marcus had a shark!
He couldn’t believe it. One hour ago he’d thought all hope was lost and that he’d be buried in a shallow grave without even a clever statement on his tombstone. But now he felt like he was embarking on what would become a terrific career path.
All he had to do now was put together the tank.
The very complicated tank.
With only one working hand.
And somebody who thought he was a masked crime fighter.
And a “just friends” assistant with whom it was now awkward to communicate.
And almost no time to test the illusion in the actual venue.
And with three (two?) lurking bullies whose thirst for vengeance seemed to have been quenched but could show up at any time to wreak havoc.
Plus, Sinister Seamus could change the rules again.
And he needed a haircut before the show.
And he had this mild rash on his left knee. No big deal in the grand scheme of things. He was pretty sure they had topical cream in the medicine cabinet that would clear it right up. But it was one more thing to worry about.
Despite these challenges, Marcus had faith in himself. He had faith in his friends. He had faith in Larry from Larry’s Bait and Tackle.
This was going to be ridiculously amazing.
• • •
“Those are all different sizes,” said Marcus.
Peter glanced at the panes of glass that he had lying out on his front lawn. “Yeah.”
“The tank needs to be a rectangle, not a misshapen eleven-sided monstrosity.”
“We’ll make it work. I’ve got lots of glue.”
• • •
“That’s not going to hold,” said Marcus.
“It’ll hold.”
“It already stopped holding.”
“Oh, so it did. More glue next time.”
• • •
“How’s the hinge coming?” asked Peter.
“It’s coming just—ow!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I used my bad hand while you were distracting me.”
“Probably shouldn’t do that.”
“I know!”
“Should I avoid asking questions?”
Marcus shook his head. “You can ask them. I’ll accept responsibility for not—ow!”
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk.”
“I just never expected to do this kind of work without using my left hand.”
“How’s the hinge coming?”
“It’s coming fine.”
“Really?”
“No.”
• • •
“So that’s going to be the tank?” asked Kimberly.
“It’s in the very early stages,” said Marcus.
“It’ll start to look like a tank eventually,” said Peter.
“Hmmmm,” said Kimberly.
• • •
“It’s not looking too bad for a day’s work,” said Peter.
“We’ve been working on it for four days.”
“I’m just saying that if we’d only been working on it for a day, it wouldn’t look too bad.”
• • •
“It’s not looking too bad for six days’ work,” said Peter.
“We’ve been working on it for eight,” Marcus pointed out.
“Better than it was looking before.”
• • •
Marcus had to admit that the tank looked like much less of a horrific mess than it did a couple of days ago. Would it come apart when filled with water? He couldn’t say with 100 percent certainty that they were going to avoid that particular disaster, but he was feeling more confident.
Kimberly had done an excellent job decorating the bottom and sides of the tank. With the mirror in place—and the mirror had been a nightmare to get into place—it almost, kind of, sort of looked like you were seeing the whole tank instead of half.
Of course, “almost, kind of, sort of” wasn’t good enough. If the audience said, “Well, we almost couldn’t see the obvious mirror that separated the tank into two compartments,” Marcus would have to consider the illusion a failure. Hopefully, the water would create enough distortion to hide the mirror.
They opened the hinge in the mirror—the hinge had been a nightmare to install too—and looped a garden hose through it. Peter turned on the water, and he, Marcus, and Kimberly stood and waited.
The tank did not collapse as the first drops of water struck the bottom, so that was nice.
As the water level rose to an inch, no streams of water poured from any of the corners, which was also nice.
Two inches.
“This might work,” said Marcus.
“Don’t jinx it!” said Peter.
“I don’t believe in jinxing.”
“Well, I do! I believe in it like crazy! Don’t say stuff that could end up being ironic!”
“It’s not going to hold,” said Kimberly.
Peter glared at her. “Don’t try to use reverse psychology either. Just watch and let events unfold the way nature intends.”
“No, I’m serious. It’s not going to hold,” said Kimberly.
The entire front pane of glass toppled forward. Fortunately, it landed on the grass. Unfortunately, beneath the grass there was hard dirt that hadn’t yet turned to mud from the spilled water, and the glass shattered.
“More glue next time,” said Peter.
• • •
They watched in silence as the water level rose to a couple of feet.
And then three feet.
And then four feet.
And then four feet.
And then four feet.
“Why isn’t the water level rising anymore?” asked Marcus.
“There’s a big leak in the back,” said Peter. “But at least the tank didn’t—sorry. I almost said something ironic.”
• • •
Marcus, Peter, and Kimberly watched in silence as the water level rose.
Three feet.
Four feet.
And then five feet.
“It’s full!” said Marcus. “We did it! We did it!”
Peter shut off the spigot. “We’re the greatest magicians ever!”
“Do you hear a cracking sound?” asked Marcus.
“No,” said Kimberly.
“Good. Me either.”
“How long should we stand here and stare at it before we declare victory?” asked Peter.
“I say we test the trick a couple of times and then drain it,” said Marcus. “No reason to tempt fate.”
For the practice run, the role of the hammerhead shark was played by a blue towel attached to some fishing line. Marcus dropped the towel through the trapdoor in the mirror and then lowered the trapdoor (which was also attached to fishing line) back into place. You could see the outline if you looked closely, but people in the audience wouldn’t have the opportunity to look closely. They would be sitting too far away.
Kimberly draped a black curtain over the tank.
Marcus lifted the trapdoor, pulled the towel through the opening, and dropped the trapdoor.
Kimberly pulled the curtain away
.
“Whoa!” said Peter. “That shark disappeared!”
“You work the trapdoor,” said Marcus. “I want to watch.”
They tried the trick again. Marcus watched as the towel sank to the bottom. Kimberly tossed the curtain over the tank, and when she pulled it away, the towel was gone!
Was it the most spellbinding illusion in the entire history of magic? Nah. Would the audience gasp in astonishment at Marcus’s feat of dexterity? Nah. Kimberly and Peter were doing the actual work. Still, it was a pretty cool trick.
“Does anybody else hear a cracking sound?” asked Peter.
“No,” said Marcus.
“No,” said Kimberly.
Peter pumped his fist in the air. “Woo-hoo!”
25
Showtime was at three o’clock in the afternoon. Marcus woke up at three o’clock in the morning. He didn’t need to be up anywhere near this early since Bernard wasn’t going to let them into the theater before noon. But his body said, “Wake up! You’re nervous!” and he was forced to comply.
He paced around for a while, silently rehearsing his patter.
This could be his last day to not be dead, but he decided not to dwell upon such matters.
He paced and paced and paced and paced and paced and paced and paced and paced and paced and paced. Once he was done, he paced and paced and paced and paced and paced and paced and paced and paced. With that process complete, he paced some more.
Mom made a huge breakfast that Marcus was too queasy to eat. “You’re going to do wonderfully,” she said. “We’re really proud of you.”
“Thanks,” said Marcus, trying to choke down the corner of a piece of toast.
“This is the first of many shows to come,” said Dad. “So remember that the stakes are low.”
“I will.”
After he ate some breakfast, sent a text to check in with Kimberly, and spent some more quality time pacing, Marcus and his parents went over to Peter’s house, where a U-Haul truck was waiting in the driveway. When Marcus rang the doorbell, Peter’s mom answered the door. He’d never seen her awake and off the couch.
“You must be Marcus!” she said. There were dark circles under her eyes, but she looked freshly showered and happy. “Peter’s said so much about you! I’m sorry for what happened to your hand.”
“It’s okay,” said Marcus, flexing his fingers. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “He can be so clumsy.”
“Yeah.”
“Give me a hug.” As Marcus gave her a hug, Peter’s mom whispered into his ear, “Thank you for not revealing his secret identity.”
Together, Marcus, his parents, Peter, and Peter’s mom very, very carefully loaded the tank into the U-Haul. They got it into the vehicle without dropping it, sparing them the need for a wah wah wah waaahhhh musical cue.
Then Marcus and his parents returned home. It was time to get ready.
He put on his black suit and adjusted his tie. As Marcus checked himself out in the mirror, he had to say that yep, he looked like a magician.
He practiced his patter once more.
It was going to go fine. He knew it was going to go fine. It was definitely going to go fine. He was pretty sure it was going to go fine.
He gave Mom and Dad a hug. They were driving separately, and he’d see them at the theater in fifteen minutes. But it felt like the right moment to give them a hug to thank them for all of their support. And soon he might be too nervous to use his arms.
He rode to the Pinther Theater in the U-Haul with Peter and his mother. Apparently, they could tell that Marcus was nervous beyond the ability to form words with his mouth because neither of them spoke.
When they arrived, Bernard opened the rear stage door for them, and the team very, very carefully unloaded the tank and moved it to the center of the stage. The set for Prairie Dog: A Musical Journey was a bright desert landscape, which didn’t match the dark look Marcus would have preferred, but there was nothing he could do about it.
“That doesn’t look very sturdy,” said Bernard.
“It’ll be fine,” Marcus promised.
“May I pound on it to be sure?”
“Please don’t.”
Bernard sighed. “I don’t know if this means anything coming from me, but I hope you impress everybody. I don’t even care about losing my honor to Zachary. I’m rooting for you.”
“Thank you.”
Marcus attached his garden hose to an outside spigot and then draped the other end over the side of the tank and began to fill it. He was confident that the tank would hold, though he hoped that Bernard had plenty of towels just in case. Peter and the others seemed to realize that he still wasn’t in a talking mood, so they left him alone to fill the tank.
A man in a prairie dog costume walked over to him. “You Marcus the Stupendous?”
“Yes.”
“You’d better not steal my thunder, kid.”
“It’s just a quick trick.”
“You’re lucky I went for this. I could’ve shut down the trick. Bernard owes me ten thousand dollars, so he’s in no position to tell me I have to have an opening act. Don’t think you’re getting a cut of the ticket sales.”
“I don’t want any of the proceeds,” said Marcus.
“When we start singing ‘Popping Our Heads Out of the Dry Tan Ground,’ I expect the audience to be fully engaged. I don’t want to look out there and see people talking about your pet shark. Got it?”
“I’ll make sure the trick sucks.”
“I mean it. I’ll bite you. The teeth on this costume are foam rubber, but my real teeth will break the skin.” The man in the prairie dog costume pointed to his googly eyes and then pointed at Marcus to indicate that he’d be watching him. Then he left.
When the tank was about half full, a man in shorts and a green polo shirt approached the stage. “You the magician?”
“Yes.”
The man extended his hand. “I’m Larry from Larry’s Bait and Tackle.”
“Hi! Great to meet you!”
Larry tapped the glass. “This where the shark is going?”
“Yes.”
“You ready for it?”
“Yes. Do you need somebody to help you wheel in the aquarium?”
Larry shook his head. “Nope. I’ve got it in a plastic bag. Be right back.”
Marcus didn’t think it was safe to carry a hammerhead shark in a plastic bag, but he wasn’t the expert.
A few minutes later, Larry returned holding a very small plastic bag filled with water.
“What’s that?” Marcus asked.
“This is your shark.”
“It’s a goldfish!”
“It’s a young one, I’ll grant you that, but this here is a certified hammerhead shark.”
“But…but…but…it’s head isn’t even shaped right!”
“Hammerheads aren’t born like that,” said Larry. “They’re born with normal fish heads, but as they mature, their heads expand into the hammer shape that we associate with this type of beast. Its scales will also gradually change from the gold color that you see here to a more sharklike hue.”
“You were supposed to bring me a full-grown shark!”
“I don’t recall that being part of the agreement.”
Marcus poked at the bag. “That’s a goldfish! You brought me a goldfish! I can’t do the amazing, disappearing shark illusion with a goldfish!”
Larry peered at the bag more closely. “Now that you mention it, there are certain goldfish-like qualities to its appearance.”
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“Laugh.”
“What?”
“You’re supposed to laugh.”
“Huh?”
“I
was having a bit of fun with you. This is a goldfish. Once I bring in the shark, there’s an element of peril involved, so I always try to lighten the mood with a good goldfish joke.”
“Oh.”
“Sometimes I use a minnow.”
“You get that I almost passed out, right?”
“And if you had, I’d know that you lacked the nerves of steel required to be this close to a man-eating hammerhead shark. I know I said on the phone that shark attacks are rare, but it’s something I say to help myself sleep at night.”
“Could you please go get the shark?”
“Sure. I’ll be right back…as long as I don’t lose a hand.”
Larry walked off the stage, chuckling.
Marcus did deep breathing exercises for about fifteen seconds before Kimberly walked into the auditorium. She looked stunning in a sparkly red dress.
“Wow,” said Marcus. “Best magician’s-assistant-who-does-more-work-than-the-actual-magician ever!”
“Thank you.” She made her way to the stage, moving slowly in high heels. “Stop being so nervous.”
“How do you know I’m nervous?”
“You’re ghost-white and drenched with sweat.”
“That’s a good clue. Yeah, basically, I’m so nervous that I could burst into tears at any second. If that’s the kind of thing you’d like to witness, stick around.”
“I’m confident that you won’t cry,” said Kimberly. “This is your big moment. Enjoy it.”
“I’ll try.”
“Here we go,” said Larry, wheeling in a small tank. “One hammerhead shark for the magician.”
Marcus hurried over to look into the tank. The shark was about three feet long. Small by hammerhead shark standards, but unmistakably a real shark. If Marcus accidentally fell into the tank with it, he’d go absolutely berserk with terror, which was exactly the kind of shark he wanted.
“Perfect!” Marcus said.
“His name is Frenzy,” said Larry. “He mostly eats sewer rats.”
“I didn’t bring any of those.”
“It’s okay. Fish guts will work just fine.”
“I brought plenty of those.”
“All right, you get to know Frenzy for a moment while I go get the net.” Larry winked and left.
“He looks like a cold-blooded killing machine,” said Kimberly.