sleight of hand

sleight of hand

fiction
edward w pritchard


Sitting with four children of various young ages at the SeaWorld resort in Aurora, Ohio one summer day  watching the entertainment on a crowded outdoor open air stage near a large Lake I was randomly picked to be the magician's helper from a large audience at the 1PM performance .

I was crammed into and between on a bench, at a small booth, two just past teenage aspiring entertainers both independently hoping for someday better venues as they put on their act of various sleight of hand tricks which the three of us passed as props quickly below the viewing opening that kept the audience from seeing the reality of the performance. Enthusiastic shouts and whistles on cue followed each new illusion. Myself playing along getting into the rhythm of things especially since the girl sitting so close was quite pretty and I was younger then myself.

In the end I had stretched myself, thrown myself enthusiastically into my part, helping to maintain the illusion of  the stage magic and receiving appropriate applause.

About an hour and a half later I was walking about the theme park rocking the baby girl to sleep and I stopped in the back of the audience of the same performance, but this one at 3PM, and watched the show for a minute. Unfortunately although I could see how realistic the tricks looked to the audience from where I stood, now that I knew the routine there was an element of bursted expectations to the show. Further looking at the balding paunchy man selected to be the magicians helper I noted a bit of advertising chicanery in the pathetic guy's selection as stereotypical bourgeois stooge. Still rather than applaud wildly at the end of the performance, for my sleeping daughter, I clapped my hands a bit as I was able holding the child tightly as I performed my part.