The Unbelievable Oliver and the Sawed-in-Half Dads

by Pseudonymous Bosch

  “Plenty. Take a look.”

  Spencer showed his playlist to the girls, who began choosing tracks that played just loud enough to disguise a conversation between Oliver and his rabbit.

  “Okay, Benny,” said Oliver over his shoulder. “What do we need to get? Oh, rings.”

  He picked up a pair of large linked magician’s rings.

  Benny had hidden in Oliver’s hat the whole way to the store. He too wanted nothing to do with Zoocheeni, but he knew Oliver would be helpless without him. He lifted the hat just enough to whisper in Oliver’s ear.

  “Rings at a wedding? How original! Next you’ll want flowers.”

  “Flowers? That’s the girls’ job,” said Oliver, not picking up on the rabbit’s sarcasm.

  “Ask about the sawed-in-half trick,” suggested Benny. “I promise there won’t be any blood.”

  “Not even fake blood?”

  “What’s that, Oliver?” Spencer asked.

  “Um . . .” Oliver was still nervous about using sharp tools onstage, but he didn’t want Spencer to think he was talking to himself. “Do you have the sawed-in-half trick?”

  “Yes!” exclaimed Spencer with something close to excitement. “I almost never have what a customer asks for, but . . .”

  With an almost dramatic flourish, he pulled an old, moth-eaten blanket off a long, black coffin-shaped box.

  “It’s a pretty simple trick,” Spencer said. “Do I have any volunteers to slip into this coffin?”

  Teenie and Bea raised their hands.

  “Do we get to die first?” asked Teenie hopefully.

  “Only after you’re inside. Okay, as you can see, this coffin is actually two boxes put together.” Spencer opened the lid of one of the boxes. “First, Martina, you get inside this box here and hide. That’s before the curtain rises. Nobody knows about you, okay? Can you guys keep a secret?”

  “I don’t know,” said Teenie as she climbed into the box. “I thought my real name was a secret, but I guess it isn’t.” She glared meaningfully at Bea.

  “Bea, you’re onstage in front of the audience,” said Spencer. “You get in the other box, leaving your head sticking out of this hole here. You have to bend your legs to fit.”

  Bea did her best to squeeze into the other box.

  Spencer turned back to Teenie.

  “Martina, stick your legs out of the other end . . . See, now everyone will think it’s one coffin with one girl inside, but it’s actually Bea’s head and Martina’s feet.

  “Then when Oliver saws the coffin in half, like so . . .” Spencer handed Oliver an oversized plastic saw. “Go on, Oliver.”

  Oliver poked hesitantly at the coffin. The saw wobbled noisily.

  “Really put your back into it,” Benny whispered. “You’re sawing your friend in half—it shouldn’t just tickle.”

  Oliver still wasn’t getting it. So Spencer grabbed his hand and forced Oliver to slice through the two boxes in a single stroke.

  “AAAAAAAH!” Bea screamed. “My legs. You sawed off my precious legs.”

  “I’m sorry!” Oliver was terrified. “I thought it was just a trick! Spencer, call 911!”

  Teenie swung her box open, and everyone in the room stared at Oliver. Even Benny lifted the brim of the hat and looked down at him with incredulity.

  “Oh, I guess the trick works.” Oliver laughed weakly. “We’ll take it.”

  “Great,” Spencer said. “Um, how are you gonna pay?”

  Bea stuck her hand out of the hole at the side of the box. She held a $100 bill.

  “We have a one-hundred-dollar magic budget from our dads.”

  At the reveal of such a large bill, the back door opened and the owner of the shop, the Great Zoocheeni himself, practically flew into the room. His dove, Paloma, flew in beside him.

  “A wedding, you say? All-liver, you’re doing weddings now?” Zoocheeni pretended he didn’t know how to pronounce Oliver’s name. “Of course, there’s only so much money in birthday parties. Now, a wedding. You could make a fortune. Two or even three hundred dollars.”

  “Yeah,” said Oliver, although any money was a fortune to him.

  “Well, that trick is purrrfect for a wedding,” purred Zoocheeni. “Sawing a beloved partner in half is considered very good luck. But I’m sorry, it’s not for sale. I have a sentimental attachment to . . . detaching people’s limbs.”

  Bea’s head and Teenie’s legs drooped in disappointment.

  “Now, we do have another one available to rent.” Zoocheeni pointed to a second, more dilapidated coffin, with bits of duct tape around the edges. This coffin, like the other, was on wheels, and it squeaked as he turned it toward the children.

  “This coffin alone, for a whole weekend in peak wedding season—well, that would be five hundred dollars.”

  “But our dads only gave us one hundred,” said Bea. “And we want to get two ties.”

  Zoocheeni nodded and the dove snatched the hundred out of Bea’s hand. Paloma flew the bill up to one of the few overhead lights in the dim store. She nodded as if to say “It’s real all right.”

  “Well, perhaps we could do the coffin and ties for ninety-five dollars,” Zoocheeni said. “But the dolly will cost extra.”

  “They need the dolly,” Spencer pointed out. “It’s part of the trick.”

  He was right. In order for the illusion to work, the boxes sat on a specially designed cart that concealed part of each performer.

  “Fine, one hundred all in,” Zoocheeni agreed without enthusiasm. “Now, where does this need to be delivered to?”

  “Hauntington Gardens,” Bea said.

  “Ah, yes, the old Hauntington estate,” said Zoocheeni. “A nice venue for a séance—once upon a time. Seen better days, I’m afraid. Still, for a funeral—”

  “Wedding!” Teenie interjected.

  “And it’s still nice,” said Bea.

  She was excited to visit the gardens, which had all the flowers a flower scientist could ever dream of classifying in her notebook.

  “Wedding, funeral—either way, it’s too far for delivery, which we don’t offer anyway,” said Zoocheeni. “You’re on your own.”

  Zoocheeni disappeared in a puff of smoke with their $100 bill.

  Spencer apologized that he couldn’t give them a ride. “I’m still saving up for that car.”

  Unassisted, the team raced—or rather, walked, slowly and awkwardly—home with their new magic trick.

  The Rehearsal for the Rehearsal Brunch

  Oliver couldn’t imagine anyone living in the creepy splendor of the Hauntington mansion. Nearly every room was bigger than the entire apartment complex where Oliver lived with his mother and thirty other families. The doors were fit for giants. The chandeliers were the size of cars. The cobwebs were as long and luxuriant as the drapery.

  The twins had no trouble imagining such riches.

  “I’d buy a dessert island,” Teenie said.

  “You mean a desert island,” said Oliver.

  “No. A dessert island. I’m thinking ice cream island.”

  “Well, I’d buy dessert for everyone in need,” Bea said. “And a quill pen, because I’ve always wanted one.”

  It was the morning of the wedding. Oliver, Bea, and Teenie were rehearsing for the rehearsal brunch in the mansion’s library.

  A series of stern Hauntington family portraits lined the walls. Teenie circled the room, delighted to discover that the paintings kept staring at her wherever she stood.

  “Can you see me now? . . . Can you see me now? . . . Can you see me now? . . . Look—they’re still watching me!”

  Bea kept busy pulling books from the shelves “in order to read and look for secret passages.”

  Benny, who’d only come grudgingly to the wedding, was rehearsing with Oliver. Or he
was supposed to be.

  Unlike the girls, Benny was not a fan of the Hauntington mansion or its artwork. “Those paintings keep following me!” he complained. “Can’t you turn them around?”

  “Don’t you like that painting?” Oliver asked. “She has a pet rabbit.”

  “That’s not a pet rabbit!” Benny yelped. “That’s a rabbit stole. How would you like to be made into a fur stole?”

  “But I don’t have any fur.”

  “Well, better not get any ideas looking at mine!”

  Upon closer inspection, the rabbit in the painting did look more like an accessory than a pet.

  Obviously, Oliver and Benny could not turn the paintings around, so they compromised by turning themselves around.

  They hid behind a potted plant and practiced a new card trick.

  The trick was a bit too tricky for Oliver.

  “How am I supposed to do a false shuffle? I can barely do a real shuffle!”

  “Don’t worry,” Bea reassured him. “You’ve got plenty of time. Uncle Jeff is still giving his speech, and he takes forever.”

  From one of the bay windows, they could see the terrace where the twins’ uncle Jeff was telling a very long—and knowing Uncle Jeff, very inappropriate—story.

  “And once he gets done, we still have to introduce you,” Bea added. “Our introduction is really long.”

  “We practiced all night,” Teenie said. “I’d say you have about an hour left.”

  Just as Oliver started to calm down, a series of burps shook the window.

  “Oh, no!” Bea exclaimed.

  “What?!”

  “The burps. That’s his big closer!”

  They all leaned against the window to listen. Oliver wasn’t certain, but the burps sounded a little like Beethoven.

  “Thank you, Jeff. That was really . . . from the gut.” Miguel removed his handkerchief and wiped the microphone before handing it to his groom-to-be, Simon, who refused to touch it.

  “I’ll just project,” Simon said, fiddling with his worm-patterned tie. “Can everyone hear me? A degree from Yale Drama School has to be good for something.”

  Simon paused for laughter. Finding none, he continued:

  “I hope everyone enjoyed their meal. Sorry about the hollandaise . . . We’ve got a special treat for you folks. Please welcome our daughters, Beatriz and Martina!”

  The brunch crowd burst into applause as the girls and Oliver entered. As always in their family, Bea and Teenie stole the show.

  “Are you ready to be impressed beyond your wildest dreams?” Bea asked in the voice of a boisterous magic promoter. “Please give it up for the magical stylings of the Unbelievable Oliver and his executive assistants, the Brilliant Bea and the Magical Martina!”

  “It’s the Terrifying Teenie!” said Teenie. “And you were supposed to say my name first this time, but I don’t really care about the order.”

  Everyone clapped. Except Oliver. He’d been expecting a much longer introduction.

  Showtime!

  Bea and Teenie beckoned Oliver to the stage, then stepped away, leaving him alone with the mic and an audience of about forty confused brunch guests.

  “Thank you, Brilliant Bea and, er, Terrible Martina,” Oliver said. “And thank you Mr. Miguel and Mr. Simon for finally getting married.”

  Oliver gulped. He forgot how he was going to start.

  “C’mon, you’re a magician,” Benny whispered in his ear. “Keep up the patter. Ask for a volunteer if you’re stuck.”

  “I need a magician,” declared Oliver, flustered. “Do I have a magician in the audience? Er, a volunteer. A magician’s volunteer!”

  Oliver looked out at the tables. The wedding guests were beginning to talk among themselves. His mother sat near the front. She emptied her glass and raised her hand for another.

  “Oh, don’t look at me,” Oliver’s mother said. “I’m not volunteering for anything. I’m on vacation.”

  “Call up Dad,” said Teenie in a loud whisper.

  “Oh, right.” Oliver pointed at Simon, who had not raised his hand. “We have a volunteer! Mr. Dad, er, Simon. Please make your way to the stage.”

  The crowd clapped as Simon made his way onto the terrace.

  “Now, Mr. Simon, we don’t know each other, do we?” asked Oliver.

  “You come to our house every day after school,” said Simon.

  “True,” said Oliver. “But we don’t know what each other is thinking.”

  Simon looked at him askance. “What are you thinking?”

  “Even though we’ve only just met, I can read your mind,” Oliver said. “My assistant will hand you a book. Open it to any page and write down the first word you see.”

  Bea handed her father an encyclopedia volume. He flipped through the pages, then wrote down a word on the sticky note attached to the dust jacket.

  “I couldn’t see.” Oliver turned to the crowd. “Did he write a word? Good. Now, Mr. Simon, crumple the note so I still can’t see it, and place it in your back pocket. Then hand the book back to me.”

  Simon hid the note, then handed the book to Oliver, who immediately flipped through the pages, rather obviously checking the jacket of the book.

  “Bea!” Oliver called in a panic. She tiptoed over so they could talk without the audience hearing. “Bea, this isn’t the right book. This is K. You were supposed to give him J.”

  “Oh, J was boring,” Bea said. “The sequel’s much better.”

  Oliver hit his head with the “sequel.” He’d hidden a piece of carbon paper in the first book, so that when Simon wrote down his word, it would appear on another piece of paper, also hidden in the book. Now Oliver had no idea what word Simon had chosen.

  “Okay, I noticed you were looking near the front of the book? Right?”

  Oliver flipped through the book, hoping that a word would catch his eye. He considered his odds. What was the most commonly used word?

  “Was it, um, the? Is the your word?”

  Simon was confused. His actual word was karma.

  He glanced over at his daughters, who both looked meaningfully at him.

  “Yes,” Simon said. “My word was the. How’d you know?”

  Oliver beamed. He’d done it—real magic!

  “A magician never reveals his secrets!” To keep up the momentum, he rushed right into his big trick. “And now for the grand finale. Teenie? Bea?”

  The girls rushed Simon off the terrace and into the library. From the other side of the wall Simon could be heard saying, “You want me to get in that? Wearing these shoes?”

  “I’ll need one more volunteer.” Oliver scanned the crowd.

  A few hands went up. But he pointed to the other groom, Miguel, who had his camera pointed at Oliver. (Miguel had chosen to save money by photographing his own wedding.)

  “Mr. Miguel!”

  Miguel shook his head. He didn’t want to volunteer. But the crowd clapped and cheered until Miguel reluctantly handed his camera to Spencer and joined Oliver on the terrace stage.

  Spencer shot enough photos to blind everyone with the flash.

  “Hello,” said Oliver. “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Now, Oliver—”

  “That’s my name too!”

  As the crowd laughed, Oliver gained confidence. Perhaps too much confidence. “Well, Mr. Oliver, what brings you to Hauntington Gardens today?”

  “It’s Mr. Miguel. I mean, it’s Miguel. Just Miguel. I’m getting married. This is our rehearsal brunch.”

  “Oh, a wedding and a brunch!” Oliver improvised. “A day when two become one. And a meal where two meals become one. Breakfast and lunch . . . But for my next trick, one will become two.”

  He waved his wand, the signal for the twins to reappear with the coffin and dolly. B
ut they were having technical difficulties.

  “Dad, we need you to be quiet and not make a scene,” Teenie told Simon. “Like how we’re supposed to act at nice restaurants.”

  As they rolled the coffin onto the terrace, a sharp-eared audience member might have heard some unexpected sounds coming from inside it.

  With everyone in place, Oliver turned to Miguel. “Please, sir, step into the coffin.”

  “Do I have to?” asked Miguel, looking at his watch. “Simon and I have to do our portraits soon. Where is he, by the way?”

  “I promise it’s perfectly safe,” said Oliver, avoiding Miguel’s question. “Nothing to fear but the worms. And spiders,” he added, indicating Miguel’s spider-patterned tie.

  He lifted the lid and helped Miguel inside. Now both grooms were tucked into the Sawed in Half. Bea reached in and pulled Simon’s feet out of the far side to match Miguel’s head and arms, which were sticking out the front.

  “Teenie, the saw, please.”

  “Ow!” Teenie pretended to hurt her finger on the plastic saw. The audience gasped.

  Grinning, she showed everyone that her finger was fine, and handed the saw to Oliver.

  “Thank you, Terrifying Teenie—that really was terrifying. And now, I’m sorry to say, we must saw your father in half.”

  With the saw in hand, Oliver made a show of trying to cut through the center of the coffin. He quickly turned to the two assistants.

  “On second thought, you guys should do this. He’s your father.”

  Enjoying it more than they should have, the girls took turns sawing through the coffin.

  He played his part well, screaming just enough to make the gag work.

  “Well done,” said Oliver after the saw had gone all the way through. “Let’s just make sure the bones are fully separated . . .”

  The three kids started to separate the two halves of the coffin. “Oh no, there’s too much blood!” said Oliver, stopping them. “Towels, please.”