by Jeff Strand
“Ladies and gentlemen, this all part of the show!” Marcus assured everyone as he leapt off the stage. He might not like Seamus, but he couldn’t stand around and let him get eaten. Grandpa Zachary would have expected more from him.
Most of the audience members in the front row had stood up and scattered away from the flood of water. Nobody was currently assisting Seamus, either because they believed Marcus when he said this was part of the show or because most people, given the option, typically elected not to go near a carnivorous shark.
Larry leapt off the stage next to Marcus. “Do you want to take the head or tail?” Larry asked.
“Tail please.”
The hammerhead chomped down on Seamus’s shoulder. Seamus expressed loud displeasure.
“Oh, uh,” said Larry. “I can only handle seeing fish blood.” His eyes rolled to the top of his head, and he passed out.
“Get it off me! Get it off me! Get it off me! Get it off me! Get it off me!” Seamus repeated.
Marcus tried to grab the fierce predator’s tail, but it was thrashing too much for him to get a hold of it. Peter and Kimberly jumped off the stage to help. Then they sort of stopped and looked at each other as if hoping the other would take the initiative.
Marcus now understood why most magicians opted to make bunnies disappear.
“Don’t let me die this way!” Seamus wailed. “It’s memorable but undignified!”
Peter had apparently lost at rock-paper-scissors to Kimberly, so he knelt down next to Marcus and also grabbed for the shark’s tail. He got a grip on it and tugged. But his hands slid off the fin, and he tumbled onto the floor.
“Start the show!” Bernard shouted. “Start it!”
“There’s broken glass on the stage!” one of the guys in prairie dog costume said.
“You’ve got padding on your feet! Just do it!”
Peter grabbed for the shark’s tail again. As he tugged, Marcus decided that he had no choice but to pry its jaws from Seamus’s shoulder. He grabbed each side of its hammer-shaped head, tried not to squeak in terror, and pulled as hard as he could.
The shark’s jaws came free.
Kimberly hurried up the three steps onto the stage and then ran backstage. Three prairie dogs stepped into the spotlight. Music began to play.
“We are the prairie dogs,” they sang. “We’re not cows, and we’re not hogs. Nor are we slimy frogs. We are the prairie dogs.”
Marcus and Peter hoisted the shark away from Seamus. It was a lot heavier than Marcus expected. In fact, he didn’t think he was going to be able to hold it, which would be a pretty big problem if he dropped an aggravated shark with a mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth onto his leg.
“We live on the prairie. Where everything is merry. And all of us are hairy. Right here on the prairie.”
The audience seemed very confused. Marcus noticed that his parents along with Peter’s mother were rushing forward, so he waved them away. “All part of the show!”
Marcus and Peter carried the shark away. Its mouth was wide open, ready to devour the nearest appendage, and Marcus knew he had a whole new inspiration for his nightmares.
He’d thought Kimberly had run off in cowardice, but then he saw her rush back onto the stage, holding the net. Oh, yeah. The net. That was way smarter than carrying the shark with their bare hands.
“We’ve got holes in the dirt. We never wear a shirt. Nor do we wear a skirt. We’ve got holes in the dirt.”
Marcus desperately clung to the shark’s head as gently as he could. Even if he didn’t drop it onto his foot, he didn’t want to hurt the poor shark, which was only following its genetic nature. Dropping the shark on the floor would be cruel, and nobody would be entertained then.
“You’re losing your grip!” Peter warned.
“I know!”
“Don’t lose it!”
Kimberly lowered the net under the shark. Marcus and Peter gently released the shark in the net, hoping it wouldn’t wriggle free and go after an innocent audience member.
“We eat grass and some bugs. By which we don’t mean slugs. We mean bugs that aren’t slugs. And we’re big fans of hugs.”
Marcus was starting to wonder if Prairie Dogs: A Musical Journey was actually worse than his illusion. He’d assumed that Bernard upheld pretty high-quality standards at the Pinther Theater, but he was starting to reconsider that idea.
Peter took the handle of the net from Kimberly and lifted Frenzy. It was obviously a challenge for him to carry the writhing beast, but he got up the stairs onto the stage without dropping it.
Marcus turned his attention to Seamus, who was now standing on his feet again. His suit, which had been very crisp a few minutes ago, was no longer appropriate for classy events. Marcus had seen plenty of unhappy people in his life, but on a rage scale of one to ten, ten being the most enraged, Seamus was an eight thousand. (It was not a scientifically accurate scale.)
“Stop the music!” Seamus shouted.
The music lowered but didn’t stop. The prairie dogs continued dancing around the stage, taking care to avoid the broken glass.
Seamus pointed at Marcus with his good arm. “You ruined my chance at redemption.”
“Sorry,” said Marcus. “But let’s be honest. Making one decent speech doesn’t excuse you for a lifetime of evil.”
“I spent nearly twenty minutes refining that speech.”
“Did you really get bad news from the doctor?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“It’s kind of relevant.”
Seamus turned to the orchestra pit. “Can you please stop the music? We’re trying to have a conversation here!”
“The show must go on!” Bernard bellowed from the wings.
The prairie dogs, who were doing a dance with multicolored umbrellas, ignored Seamus. After all, Bernard paid their salaries.
“So are you still trying to redeem yourself?” Marcus asked.
“No,” said Seamus. “I most certainly am not.”
“Bummer,” said Marcus.
“And now I take my leave!” Seamus reached into his inside jacket pocket, felt around a bit, and frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Marcus asked.
“I was supposed to throw down a capsule so I could disappear in a puff of smoke, but I think the shark ate it.” Seamus sighed. “What a dud of a day.”
Peter and Kimberly walked back onto the stage. “Frenzy’s back in his original tank,” Kimberly announced. “He seems to be doing fine.”
“Excuse me,” said the prairie dog Marcus had spoken with earlier, “but we’re trying to put on a musical performance here.”
“I apologize,” said Kimberly.
Seamus reached into his jacket again and took out his pistol. As he pointed it at Marcus, a few people gasped.
“This isn’t part of the show!” said Marcus. “I know you were told to put your cell phones away, but somebody please call the police!”
“It is all part of the show,” said Seamus. “Marcus the Stupendous will now perform the legendary bullet-catching trick!”
“None of this is scripted!” Marcus insisted. “I’m in legitimate danger! Please take this seriously!”
“He’s going to catch the bullet between his teeth and give you all a great big grin,” said Seamus. “Get ready to take your final bow, Marcus!”
“What’s that in your head, Seamus?” Marcus asked.
“Huh?”
Marcus gestured at him, and a stream of cards shot through the air, just as they’d done when he’d done the trick with the little kid who’d started this whole mess.
Fifty-two cards struck Seamus in the face. They weren’t particularly heavy cards, and they weren’t sharp or anything. But Seamus had just been attacked by a hammerhead shark, and he wasn’t in the best physical condition.
He dropped the gun and fell to the floor.
“Do you want me to sit on him until the police get here?” Peter asked.
“That would be nice,” said Marcus.
Peter sat on Seamus.
Kimberly gave Marcus a hug.
The prairie dogs kept singing.
Larry remained unconscious on the floor.
Bernard shook his head and looked like he wanted to cry.
Some people in the audience applauded while the rest acted very, very confused.
28
“I think I’m going to retire the disappearing shark trick,” Marcus said on Monday afternoon as he stood outside of the school building with Kimberly and Peter.
“Is it because Larry’s Bait and Tackle threatened to sue you?” asked Kimberly.
“That’s part of it.”
“Not everything was perfect,” said Peter. “Especially the part where the tank came apart. That was less than perfect. I wish that hadn’t happened. I can’t remember what point I was trying to make.”
“Were you trying to be inspirational?” Marcus asked.
“Um, I don’t think so.”
“Then I have no idea what you were going to say. But I’ve proven to myself that I can stand up on stage without freezing or babbling like an idiot. With more time to prepare and practice, I know deep in my heart that I can be a successful magician.”
Reviews of the magic show had been mixed. The local paper called it “glorious chaos,” while an online reviewer called it “a baffling mess.” Everybody agreed that Prairie Dogs: A Musical Journey was “the feel-good musical of the year! An absolute delight! You’ll leave the theater humming and dancing!”
Sinister Seamus was in jail. Presumably, since he was so old, his evil deeds would keep him behind bars for the rest of his life. Would he escape and return seeking vengeance? Marcus didn’t know. Marcus would not be inclined to return to seek vengeance if he’d been chewed up by a hammerhead shark, but he wasn’t Sinister Seamus. He’d have to be careful.
Marcus pointed at Peter. “With your help, we’re going to design bigger and better tricks. And more vigorously test them for safety.”
“I’m in!”
Marcus pointed at Kimberly. “And I want you to be my assistant when we perform these bigger and better tricks.”
“Actually, I’ve been inspired,” Kimberly said. “I’m going to be a magician.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Want to be my assistant?”
“Sure,” said Marcus. “We could trade. I’ll assist you in your show, and you can assist me in mine.” It would be great! They could be magicians together!
“No, I was kidding,” said Kimberly. “I’m going to be an architect. But I’ll be your assistant until we graduate high school.”
“Thanks.” Oh well. Marcus was glad that she could joke with him again. She might not be his girlfriend, but they could still be friends.
“I’ve decided that I no longer need to be the Witch,” said Peter.
“What’s the Witch?” asked Kimberly.
“You don’t want to know,” said Marcus.
“Yes, I do. I feel like I’m missing something.”
“You are, but it’s something that you should miss.”
“I wore a witch mask and fought crime,” said Peter. “But I have another source of fulfillment in my life, so I’m going to donate my mask to a kid who wants to be a witch next year for Halloween.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
Peter looked at Marcus. “And while we’re sharing, I have to confess that I got all the tank supplies from my cousin. I wanted you to think that I stole them from criminals even though I kept insisting that I hadn’t, but it was just my cousin. He’s pretty mad that he won’t get the glass back.”
“I see,” said Marcus. “Anything else?”
“My mom said she was really proud of me for the way I handled the mechanical shark, and I never corrected her.”
“Well, that’s between you and her.”
“Yeah, I just figured I’d throw it out there.”
“Anyway,” said Marcus, “I’m banned from the Pinther Theater for the rest of my life, my children’s lives, my grandchildren’s lives, and my great-grandchildren’s lives, but I’m sure there are other places we can put on a show when we’re ready.”
“What about birthday parties?” asked Peter.
“Sure, why not? I’ll perform anywhere I can.”
“Hey!” somebody shouted.
Marcus, Kimberly, and Peter glanced over. It was Ken, flanked by Chris and Joe. They walked over, scowling.
Peter stepped forward. “I think you need to just walk on by.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not letting you bully me anymore. Or my friends.”
“Oh, we’re not here to bully anybody. We were scowling before. But that’s because there was a pop quiz in eighth period, and we weren’t paying attention in class.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I hear you guys beat up a shark,” said Ken.
“Sort of,” said Marcus.
“Sort of is close enough for me. That’s awesome. I’ve never met anybody who tackled a shark before.” He extended his hand to Marcus. “You’re all right in my book, Magic Boy.”
Marcus shook his hand. “Thanks.”
“If you need anything, let me know. I mean, not money, but favors or stuff.”
“I will.”
Ken, Chris, and Joe left.
“I’ve got to go to chorus,” said Kimberly. “But I’ll text you tonight.”
“Talk to you then,” said Marcus.
“I’ve got to go too,” said Peter.
“Where?”
“I joined chess club. I’ll probably be terrible at it, but I won’t know until I try. I figured that an extracurricular activity would be good for me, and they needed an extra person.”
“Okay. Well, have fun.”
“I will.”
Peter and Kimberly left.
Marcus began to walk home. Would Grandpa Zachary be proud? He probably would have called it “an unfortunate but necessary first step on the road to success.” It hadn’t been the world’s greatest magic trick by any stretch of the imagination, but his parents had been proud. Marcus had been proud of himself and his team, and he was pretty sure that Grandpa Zachary, the infamous Zachary the Stupendous, would’ve been proud too.
He smiled as he walked home, already planning his next trick.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Donna Fitzpatrick, Lynne Hansen, Michael McBride, Jim Morey, Annette Pollert-Morgan, and Rhonda Rettig for their magical help with this book.
About the Author
Jeff Strand has loved magic all his life, but he can’t even shuffle a deck of cards properly, much less do a trick of his own. That’s why he’s an author instead of a magician. He’s written a bunch of other books, including The Greatest Zombie Movie Ever, I Have a Bad Feeling about This, and A Bad Day for Voodoo. He lives in Florida, where everything is magical—or at least weird. Check out his website at jeffstrand.com.
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