Three

By Shane

© 2004 by the author. All rights are reserved.

Introduction........................................................................................................................ 1
Three Things ...................................................................................................................... 2
The Measure of a Man....................................................................................................... 3
Pop Quiz ............................................................................................................................. 7
Burnt, Too ........................................................................................................................ 14
The Return of Casanova, More or Less .......................................................................... 18
Coins for the Ferryman, Plus a Little Something For the Crew ................................... 24
The Forgotten................................................................................................................... 28
Pennies Back and Forth .................................................................................................. 33
Slasher: The Day After the Night Before the Dawn of the Nightmare of a Texas
Chainsaw Psycho Maniac, Part 17.................................................................................. 36
Carny Days ....................................................................................................................... 45
Something Special............................................................................................................ 58
The Night + Mare............................................................................................................. 63
Weeping, An Old Man ..................................................................................................... 68
Life3................................................................................................................................... 73
The End of the World as We Know It ............................................................................. 82
Is There A Death So Good?............................................................................................. 92
The Stolen Smell .............................................................................................................. 98
A Final Word.................................................................................................................. 103
 Nulla Dies Sine Linea

Introduction
Wherein welcome is again gratefully given to all

For the third time we meet, and for the third time I welcome you as the strangeness
simultaneously begins and continues.

A third book, this, and again a weird one. Replete as the others with tools and techniques,
art and science, blended together to produce peculiar and wondrous things. Here there are
secrets and enigmas, puzzles and mysteries.

Which is which, as always, Gentle Reader, is up to you.

Do not put the mantle of deception to this, for what is here is here for a reason and power
if for the taking.

It is, again, up to you. And I bid you welcome for this, for the journey of this length and
your participation therein. Your journey with me has shortened the distance of the steps.

Thank you for the respite.

Counsel then this, as you would the rest:

Nulla Dies Sine Linea

And
Ad Augusta Per Angusta

Regards,

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Three Things
Wherein an unexplainable book is explained in fits and starts amid the babbling

In the footsteps of the Second, this then, the Third. As with the Second, there is much
here to ponder, brought forth as it has been from the declarations of those who have
continued this journey with me.

Little did I know how celebratory would be the gathering of the Second! Such was the
case that I barely could accept as true its reception. In truth, I am still of a wondering at
such a thing; my gratitude knows only the bounds of the heavens.

And in light of such a thing, how could the Third not come about? There is still more to
ponder, more to wonder, more to take and leave behind as needs be. And in the Third
there is more.

No step of this journey has been made in blind isolation, let alone the rising of the Third.
More than ever has aid been enlisted, pled for, from a gathering of souls and minds of
those I have been godly-favored to call friend. Know them for now here as good and
faithful, as friends and stewards might be so considered. May Everything hold R.N.,
L.W., E.S., G.I., and R.D. as closely as I do!

I have said more than needs be said. The next step we take together is yours to begin.
Enjoy the travel with me, friend, but heed the warning:

Do not read this book.

Shane
A A I
A. d. A. d.
5= RMGSC

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The Measure of a Man

Wherein it is seen that which makes us breaks us and what breaks us makes us in an
emotional palindrome.

"There once was a man who forgot." A silver quarter and four golden dollars are shown
and placed in the hand, which is closed into a loose fist.

"First, he forgot the heartache of his first love, leaving him for another." A golden dollar
is removed from the fist.

"Then, he forgot the awful pain of his father's death." A second gold dollar is removed
from the fist.

"Next, he forgot the wrenching grief of his mother's passing." A third gold dollar is
removed.

"Finally, he forgot the lingering pain of growing old alone." The last gold dollar is
removed as the others were.

"I did say 'finally', but he forgot one other thing. The man who forgot didn't remember
that pain and loss are parts of life, a measurement of life, and without them we're not
what we seem."

The hand is opened. The quarter is gone.

"We're nothing at all."

Set-up:
So this is nothing more than the Vodka and Orange Juice set (for those not familiar, this
is a locking US quarter/golden dollar set; think Scotch and Soda). Yes, I know this isn’t
horribly innovative, but it works and works well.

Of course, you can use any locking coin set, including the traditional Scotch and Soda.
The penny/dime set would work; any of the foreign coin sets will work.

I prefer the Vodka/Orange Juice set. Here’s why.

I like my magic with a good dose of subtlety and just a dash of sub-context, slow-cooked
over my emotional content. That’s a more difficult recipe than it sounds, so when I have a
chance, I savor it. Here I have not just a chance, but also an excellent opportunity. This
story is, essentially, about our pains and losses as essential to our character, to what we
are. Face it: our hurts create our human condition. Whether we like it or not, those pains
are like gold to us, the currency of which our character can be valued.

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Gee, did I say “gold”?

So I use the golden dollars as a very inside joke which not only isn’t funny, but also isn’t
that inside.

It’s a subtlety I like and chew twice.

You can use vanilla, though; it’s okay. The story will still carry.

Having said all of that let me get the credits straight here. Robert Neale originally created
a routine using this same methodology accompanying it with a gorgeous story of a man
facing his past and his future and, eventually, disappearing because of it. When I say the
story is gorgeous, I mean it. Bob creates nothing but scandalously good material, and this
was another example of it. If he ever publishes it for general consumption, you’ll see
what I mean.

But it wasn’t for me. It wasn’t where my head was at then or now. Still, there was a story
I wanted to tell and Bob brought it out of me. In that way, this is very much Bob’s trick
and Bob’s tale; all I did was bring it out of my boiling, roiling cauldron of a brain with a
different take.

Down from the pulpit and back to the set-up.

You’ll need the locking set, plus three coins which match the shell. I’d like to keep things
simple, so let’s stick to the quarter/dollar set for description’s sake.

Stack the coins so the shell is on the bottom, the three coins are on top of it, and the
double is on top of those, quarter-side up. Put them in your pocket and you’re ready to
go.

Performance:
This may be cut-and-dried given the gimmick and the simplicity of its use here. Still, I’m
nothing if not verbose so…

Bring out the stack of coins, shell on the bottom, and place the stack on the table. The
double, with the quarter-side up, should be on top.

Start telling the tale, picking up the double as you do. It’s important here -- since we’re
not screaming out at the top of our lungs the gauche “This here quarter represents the
guy!” – that the spectators make the mental connection with the presumed quarter and the
fellow in the story. Doing this is simple: pick the double up, deliver the first line of the
story, and make a very slight forward motion with the quarter. A little movement that
carries both inference and emphasis – you can’t ask for more.

Put the double in the other hand at the base of the second and third fingers. If you’re
worried about a too-close examination at the end, align the double in such as way so that

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it will lock in a position very close to an authentic dollar when closed. Personally, I do
worry about it a bit and take care to hold it so it’s closely aligned.

As you continue to talk about the tale, gather the golden dollars together (shell on
bottom) and place them in the hand with the double, overlapping each other. Close the
hand loosely – do not bother locking the set together at this point; you have plenty of
time.

As you deliver each line about pain and hurt, reach into the hand and take out a golden
dollar. On the first line, take out one of the genuine dollars, lowering the hand a bit at the
wrist, letting your audience get a very brief, very slight glimpse of the quarter. Show both
sides of the dollar casually and hand it to a spectator.

Repeat this with the second line, again taking out a genuine dollar and flashing the
quarter.

On the third line, lock the set together and remove the set, leaving a genuine dollar in its
place.

Let me answer the great unasked question here: why not just take the genuine dollar and
leave the set for last? Simple enough: I like to stay a step ahead. I get the gimmick out of
the way so I have nothing but cleanliness on my side at the last instant. Is this a case of
“running without being chased”? Nope. It’s a case of heat dispersal. In the event the
spectator does put heat on the dollar coins, the last coin will be the one to draw it
(psychology again, and a few experiences with other coin routines). Remember, they’ve
seen the quarter the first two times with those glimpses; while the spectators have no idea
what is coming, once it happens they will be holding what remains of the mystery and
may be drawn to it. Because of those glimpses, the heat gets put on the last coin, not the
second to the last. Of course, the other option is to drop those glimpses all together, but
that’s a mistake as well: doing that, we’ve sacrificed openness for a bit more heat
dispersal. Since the heat is not a given, just a possibility, that’s a lop-sided sacrifice and
one we shouldn’t take.

Back to the routine…

On the final line, remove the golden dollar. Keep the hand held as if there’s still a quarter
there. What does that mean? Hold your hand just slightly relaxed, not in a clinched fist.
Move the hand slightly as if you’re shaking the one coin in your hand.

Finally, open the hand to show the quarter gone. Retrieve the coins from the spectator
and pocket them. And you’re done.

Wow. What an explanation for what amounts to a self-working trick and a very short
story!
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The reason for the length is, regardless of what I say, there is no such thing as a self-
working trick. There are sleight-less tricks. There are gimmick-less tricks. There are
sleight-less and gimmick-less tricks. There is no such an animal as a self-working trick.
You always have to work with a trick, even if it’s just putting the presentation together so
it works for you. Or adding nuances to make it more real.

What I went into detail about are the nuances in the handling as I see them and use them,
hence the long-winded explanation for such a simple thing. Like I said before and I’ll say
again:

I’m nothing if not verbose.

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Pop Quiz
In which the spectator is not all she appears to be and why high-collar shirts will
make a fashion comeback. Or not.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for staring. I’m not being rude; it’s just that I think there’s more
to you than meets the eye. I suspect there may be more about you than you know about.
Would you humor me for a moment?”

A small wallet is brought out. Opened, it is shown to contain two packets of different
cards. The cards are removed and placed in two piles in front of the woman.

“This is, well, I’d say ‘test’ but that’s too strong a word. Let’s call it a quiz. A self-
knowledge quiz, perhaps.

“Would you do me the honor and pick one of the two packets up. Either one you want; it
makes no difference to me or affects the quiz.”

The woman picks up one of the piles.

“Please cut the cards a few times so they’re mixed up.” When the spectator is done, she
puts the cards back on the table.

“Now, you’re probably wondering what these are, these cards you chose. Obviously they
are playing cards of some sort, but what kind of playing is done with them?” The
performer turns over the pile chosen by the spectator, spreading it, showing it to be made
of tarot cards. “You may recognize these. They are tarot cards, used to divine the future
and look into ourselves.” The packet is squared and put back on the table face down.

The performer picks up the other pile, turns it over, and spreads it. “These, too, are tarot
cards, though the tarot deck they come from is definitely darker, more… bloody. These
are tarot cards used by those concerned with vampirism.” The cards are spread in a fan
and offered to the spectator. “Please point to any of these cards. That one?” The card is
pulled out of the fan and set at right angles to the rest of the cards so it is clearly seen.
The packet of cards is placed on the table.

“Two packets of tarot cards from two different decks. Although the names of the cards
are the same, there are obvious differences between the two.”

The performer turns up the top card of each packet, placing them face up on the table.

“The Star and Temperance. Notice how the one card is distinctly centered on humans and
heavenly objects. That’s the regular tarot. But look at the vampiric card, with it’s female
vampire moving blood back and forth between two chalices. That’s the underlying theme
of these cards: one on hand, the human and divine, on the other, vampires and blood. As
you can see, with these different cards, the theme of light and darkness is quite apparent.”

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The performer turns up the top cards of both piles simultaneously, pointing out the
differences between the two. When he reaches the chosen card, he pulls it and the top
card of the other packet aside as a pair, and then continues revealing all the individual
cards of the packets.

“Now, you selected – for want of a better term – the human cards when we began. And
then you picked a card from the opposing pile, the vampire cards. As we went through
these cards, we saw that none of them matched each other.”

The paired cards – the one selected by the spectator and its corresponding mate – are
turned over. Both cards are seen to be The High Priestess.

“Well, I can certainly see that, as humans go, you’re a very special one. The odds of that
happening are very large, but happen it did!”

The cards are reassembled into the two separate piles. “So far, the quiz you’ve taken says
you’re wonderfully human. But let’s make sure.”

The performer brings out two small bags. “Would you please take one of these and keep
it near you? You don’t have to hold onto it – it won’t go anywhere – but just set it in front
of you.” The spectator does so, the bag sitting in front of her.

“We began this with you choosing the human cards, and you did splendidly with those.
Now let’s take the quiz with the other cards. Please pick those up.” The spectator does so
as the performer takes the regular tarot cards.

“For this, we want to displace every single card in the packet. Simple shuffles won’t do
it; we’ll do it a special way which will thoroughly mix the cards.

“Deal the cards to the table one at a time. Whenever you want, just swap the top card for
the card beneath it and drop those on the table. You can deal cards singly or in pairs
however you want.” The performer demonstrates with his packet several times. “When
you’re done, the cards will be incontrovertibly mixed.” The packet is turned face up and
spread, showing the cards thoroughly mixed.

The spectator goes through her cards, dealing and mixing as she sees fit. When she’s
done, her cards are put next to the others on the table.

“We saw how you did before, proving yourself an wonderful human, but let’s see what
happens now. “ The performer turns up the top two cards of the packets.

“Both cards are The Hanged Man. So far, that’s as well as you did before.”

The next two cards are turned over. They are both The Star. “Well, that tells us
something, doesn’t it?”

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The next two cards are turned over. Both cards are The Sun. Silence.

The top cards of the packets are turned over in pairs. All the pairs, somehow, match
exactly.

“I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know what the likelihood of that happening is, and I
don’t think I want to know. But I do have to know one thing: what is in that bag that
helped you do that? Would you look inside, please, and pull out what you find?”

The spectator looks inside the bag, and then pulls a small item out of it.

It’s a vial of blood. The bag not chosen is opened, revealed a crucifix.

“It would appear that, while you’re a very special human, inside you is a powerful
vampire, just waiting to be born.”

Set-up: First, I should say that the above presentation is but one way this is going to play.
There are actually several presentations for this effect, based on what the spectator does.

The tricks themselves are slight mathematical and psychological things. The first part,
with the spectator matching one pair, is Aldo Colombini’s “Jumbo Coincidence”, which
has its roots in Trost and, I believe, Curry. The second part is simply using ye olde
Swindle Shuffle in a very straightforward manner.

Now, having said that, you’ll need a few items here:

• A regular tarot deck. I used a Rider-Waite deck because the images emphasize
humans and human actions very well.
• A “Vampire Tarot” deck, with artwork by Nathalie Hertz. These are made by the
U.S. Games Systems Co. and you can find them in many of the larger bookstores
and online in several locations.
• Two small cloth drawstring bags.
• A crucifix that fits in the bag.
• A small plastic vial with lid.
• Fake blood (since it’s never out of the vial, even the cheap kid’s stuff used for
Halloween will work, as will most “home recipes”).
• A wallet of some type to hold the cards. I use a full-sized Himber Wallet here, just
to bring the wallet into play later with little suspicion. Anything that keeps the
cards together and doesn’t damage them is fine.

Easy stuff first:

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Put the fake blood in the vial, filling it about half full then put the lid on the vial tightly.
Put the vial in one of the cloth bags, pulling the drawstring tight. Take the crucifix and
put it in the other bag. This time, pull the drawstring only slightly closed. What you’re
doing here is marking the bags by the drawstring. A glance is enough to tell you which
bag the spectator has chosen when it comes to that part of the routine.

Go through the tarot decks, removing ten cards from one deck and the mates from the
other. It really doesn’t matter which cards you use: just concentrate on pairs that depict
human figures as the prominent subjects from the Rider-Waite and vampires as the
primary figures from the “Vampire Tarot”. If you’re interested, and to save you a bit of
time, I use The High Priestess (II), The Hierophant (V), The Lovers (VI), The Hermit
(IX), Justice (XI), The Hanged Man (XII), Temperance (XIV), The Star (XVII), The Sun
(XIX), and The World (XXI).

Put both packets in the same order, so that the cards are mated in position (that is, every
card occupies the same position in both packets). Now, cut both packets to give them a
bit of a random look and feel. Put one packet on top of the other and put both of them in
the wallet. Get everything in a place where you can retrieve the items without much
trouble, and you’re ready to go.

Method: The method is actually quite simple on all counts; it’s juggling the presentation
that is the hard part here. You’ll see what I mean as we go.

Bring out the wallet and remove the cards, putting the wallet aside. Put the cards on the
table in front of the spectator, separated into two packets (the “human” packet and the
“vampire” packet).

Have the spectator select a pile. Instruct them to cut the packet as many times as they like
and put them on the table when they are finished. Pick up their packet, turn it over, and
spread the cards, showing the faces. As you do this, notice which card is on the bottom of
their packet (let’s say it’s The World). Square the packet and put it back down on the
table.

Pick up the other packet, turn it over and spread it, showing the faces. Look for the card
that matches the card on the bottom of the spectator’s packet (in the example, it’s The
World). As you show the packet, separate it two cards below the matching card (The
World) so that you are holding the packet, split between both hands, with the left hand
holding cards of which The World is third from the right. Put the cards in the right hand
behind the cards in the left, square them and turn them face down. What you have done is
cut the matching card to the third position from the bottom of the packet.

Spread the cards and have the spectator touch any one she wants. You’ll need her to take
one from the middle, but this is usually not a problem. If she does go for one of the top or
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bottom two, just direct her back to the middle by saying you’d like her to take one either
of you might not have caught a glimpse of. This is always enough to get her to pick on
from the middle.

Jog this card out of the spread half its length. Break the spread two cards below the
selection, so that the selection is the third from the bottom of the right hand cards. With
the left hand, pull the chosen card out of the right hand spread, holding it perpendicular
(that is, lengthwise) on top of the left hand cards, stuck out to the right of those cards.
Place all the cards in the right hand on top of the selected card in the left hand. What
you’ve done is displaced the chosen card two positions in the packet. This aligns the
chosen card – and only the chosen card – with its mate in the other packet; all the other
cards will actually be off by two places.

Place the packet on the table.

Begin turning the top card of each packet over, making comments as you go (and plainly
showing that none of the cards are matched, without having the temerity of saying so)
and placing them face-up behind their packets. When you get to the point in this where
the chosen card is on top, take it and the top card from the other packet and set them aside
together. Continue showing the top cards of the packets until both packets have been
exhausted.

During your reiteration of events, casually handle both packets, showing their faces. As
you do this, cut the top two cards from the chosen packet to the bottom. This puts both
packets back into identical order again. Table both packets face down.

Turn over the selected card and the other card, showing they are mates. Put them back
onto their respective packets.

Bring out the bags and have the spectator pick one. Note which bag she chooses – the one
with the vial or the one with the crucifix. This makes absolutely no difference to the
effect, but it does to the presentation. Have them put the bag in front of them: they’ll need
both hands for the next sequence.

Have the spectator pick up the other pile, the one they didn’t choose the first time out.
Pick up the first pile they chose and explain the mixing procedure to them.

Explain that they are to, at any time, deal one card to the table or mix the top two cards
and deal them both to the table as a pair, together. Illustrate this with your packet. Be sure
they understand the part about mixing the top two cards. Show them this procedure until
you’ve dealt the packet to the table. At this point, your packet will be a mirror of their
packet (that is, your top card will be their bottom card, etc).

If they seem unclear, or you are concerned they might not be getting it yet, no worries.
Demonstrate twice more to them, dealing through the packet to the table, picking it up,

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and doing it again. This will, again, leave your packet in that infamous reverse order to
their packet.

Since we’re dealing with such a small packet of cards, I usually do the dealing procedure
three times anyway while saying things like “You could deal down three pairs in a row,
or you could deal down a lot of cards one at a time…” This explanation is quick enough,
and you’re showing enough variation, that three passes with the packet is not detrimental
to the effect whatsoever and actually does help sell the dealing as mixing (by repeatedly
showing all these free choices the spectator has).

When you’re finished demonstrating, square the packet on the table if need be and let the
spectator begin her own mixing. When she’s finished, both packets will be in the exact
same order.

Turn over the top cards of the packets, showing they match, and place them on the table.
Continue this until all the cards have been shown. Have the spectator open the bag and
reveal the contents. Open the unselected bag revealing its contents.

The end.

Okay, now here’s where it gets tricky: the presentation.

Naturally, all the cards are going to match in that last sequence. The trick is to make your
words fit what that matching means. Simply, if the spectator chose the bag with the
crucifix, she’s just shown how perfectly human she is; if she chose the bag with vial of
blood in it, she’s just demonstrated her latent vampirism.

You’ll adjust your words accordingly to fit that choice of objects. What I gave earlier is
the presentation I use when she chooses the vial. Here’s how I change things when she
chooses the crucifix (and at the point in the routine when she’s opened the bag and
revealed the crucifix): “It would appear that, while I knew you’re a very special human,
inside you is a very powerful humanity. You truly are extraordinary!”

The End.

Some last thoughts here. This originally started as a take on Aldo Colombini’s “Jumbo
Coincidence”, which is done with jumbo-sized cards cut in half. At the end of that
routine, the cards are magically shown to all match as the climax. I actually wanted to
play that up more, add more spectator involvement, than saying, apparently “You
matched one and I matched the rest”, which just doesn’t fit my style. Then I remembered
that whole deal/mix thing and brought it into the, well, mix.

Looking for something to put the cards in, I started using my Himber Wallet. Of course,
in a dramatic feat of overkill, I also threw in a prediction effect (which had me predicting
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the spectator either ending up human or vampire). I cannot tell you how huge a mistake
that was. One performance and I never did it again. Why? Simple: it takes the spotlight
completely off the spectator! I spent five minutes making them important and took them
back down by effectively saying “You’re a vampire (or human) and I knew it before you
did! Nyah!” Ptooie. Why build magic around someone just to show it was all about you
to begin with? So no prediction routine and I just carry the cards in my Himber so, when
I introduce it later, it’s now a common item.

Okay, customization time. You can use any number of cards you like for this. However,
use no fewer than ten. If you go too small, that is use too few cards, then the likelihood of
having to point her toward the middle increases. But, then again, if you go with too many,
all the dealing and displays will take longer and grind this routine to its knees in a slow
and agonizing death. I originally was playing with using the entire Major Arcana from
both decks, but ditched the idea for that very reason. An argument could be made for
more cards making the trick seem more impossible, and if this were some psychic feat I
might agree, but it’s not a demonstration of psychic powers is it? And the increased odds
more cards bring to the table are unnecessary here.

The items and the bags, however…

Those actually become the keynote of suspense here. They are Hitchcock’s macguffin, a
piece of fool’s gold that pushes the plot forward. Here, the macguffin becomes the climax
and plays very, very well. While the routine can be done without them, don’t do it. Resist
temptation. Those little bags make all the difference between this being a card trick and
this being a piece of strangeness.

And they keep everything focused on the spectator, where the focus rightfully belongs.

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Burnt, Too
During which is seen the brain is one hot organ.

A rare introduction, but it should be done lest you think me losing my marbles (as if you
haven’t suspected such a thing already).

After all, the following is not exactly what you’d call “strange”. In fact, it’s a simple little
mentalism routine demonstrating, of all things, pyrokinesis. No strange little story, no tug
at the heartstrings, no walloping moral, just a simple demonstration of a mental faculty.

So why is it here? Two reasons. First, because it plays big and, done at the right place and
the right time, it’s a reputation maker. It’s one of those pieces that stay with people for a
while.

Second, it shows that a little adaptability goes a long way.

You see, I bought a trick (blind, I should say; I took a plunge, what can I tell you) a while
back called “Burnt” by Christopher Dearman. The theme of the effect is a great one – a
match, sealed in a vial, lights all by its lonesome, even filling the vial with smoke from
the lighting – but it instantly went into the junk bin as soon as I saw part of the method.
This is not a slam against Christopher – it’s a crafty method with a slick handling. But I
hate pulls, will never use a pull, and therefore never even considered doing anything else
with it. The theme, though, stuck with me. I couldn’t shake it. I really, really, really,
wanted to pull this off (no pun intended).

So I started to work on my own version. I played with all sorts of sleights, but
unfortunately every one of them looked, well, like a sleight. I tried all sorts of covered
switches, including the old gypsy switch, but I didn’t like the idea of covering a vial with
a handkerchief or anything else. I thought about sleeving, but quickly threw that out since
my disposition towards pulls also applied to that particular method.

One day, working on another routine, it suddenly hit me how I should go about this
effect: a switch, certainly, but one seldom used. Now, where I had I seen it before?

Paul Harris. “Las Vegas Close-Up”. “The Hard Way”. A switch of apparently two loose
dice for two dice stuck together.

Bingo.

So off I went, spending more than a few weeks getting everything Just So. In the end, I
had adapted Paul’s switch with the effect I wanted and, somehow, came up with an effect
which floors people and, just as importantly, is one I love doing.

My point? When life gives you a lemon, make lemonade. When you kick the ball and you
don’t like where it lands, kick it again. And when you get a trick whose theme you love

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but whose method you hate, hit the books and the bricks and make your own. You’ll be
surprised at what you sometimes come up with.

Which brings us back to strange magic.

Too often, a presentation will strike a chord with us, but we’ll ditch it because we don’t
necessarily care for the trick. The tale might be a delightful little story, but it uses, say, a
card trick, and that’s against our own personal dogma so the little story we like or maybe
love sits untold.

Don’t fall into that trap. Adapt.

Change the card trick to a coin trick or a chop cup trick or a pocket finger chopper trick.
Alter it to something else. Give it a new dressing. Keep the theme in place, make it all
still make sense, but under no circumstances let a good story languish in your head just
because of a little thing like the trick not being to your liking.

Adapt the method if you don’t like it, adapt the story if you have to, but if it’s that good
to you, you know it’s that good to other people and, dammit, it needs be said!

Now, on to “Burnt, Too”.

The performer brings out a small vial and borrows a book of matches. The spectator is
asked to remove one of the matches, place it in the vial -- the head of the match in the
bottom of the vial -- and to screw the lid onto the vial, sealing the match inside.

Throughout all of this, the performer has not touched anything at all; the spectator has
secured the match herself.

The performer takes the vial at his fingertips, holding it in the open. Slowly, the
performer takes the vial into his hand, closing it in a lose fist. The performer calls the
spectators attention to the top of the vial, which is still visible in the fist. Concentration,
long, hard concentration, follows. Suddenly, the performer drops the vial onto the table.

The spectator picks up the vial, opening it. A wisp of smoke comes out of the vial as the
lid is removed. The spectator dumps the match from the vial. It is now burnt, ignited only
by the mind of the performer.

Setup: As I said before, there’s a switch involved. So what you need are two identical
vials, approximately an inch long. These are dirt-cheap and can be found at science
supply shops as specimen vials. You’ll also need a book of matches (since, though this
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can be done with borrowed matches, the likelihood of a spectator having a book of
matches laying around is slim to none in this butane world we live in).

For the best effect, which means the most smoke, a few minutes before you perform this
light one of the matches, drop it into one of the vials, blow the match out, and quickly put
the lid on the vial. This will keep some of the smoke trapped inside the vial. This is not
strictly needed – I’ve done the set-up hours before I’ve done this and still gotten strong
reactions – but does make the effect a bit more dramatic. I’ll be politically incorrect here
and mention that, if you’re a smoker, blowing smoke into the vial accomplishes the same
thing and, perhaps, looks a bit better because the smoke is much more noticeable and
thicker.

Put the vials in a pocket with the matches and you’re ready to go.

Method: Bring out the empty vial and the book of matches. If you’re doing this with a
borrowed matchbook, you simply have to make sure the paper of the match is the same
color as your prepared match.

As the spectator is putting the match into the vial and securing the lid, go back into your
pocket and get the prepared vial in the right hand in a finger palm. The vial needs to be
held so that the lid of the vial is at the base of the second and third fingers and the vial
runs along the fingers to the second knuckle.

Take the vial from the spectator with the right hand, lid uppermost, between the thumb
and the second and third fingertips. Hold the vial openly, just by the lid. Open the left
hand, spreading the fingers wide and holding the palm facing the spectator (a gesture
verily screaming that the hand is empty). Slowly, very slowly, appear to take the vial at
the bottom between the left thumb and second and third fingertips, the right hand above
the left hand. In reality, you execute a switch.

As the fingers of the hands touch each other, drop the vial with the unlit match into the
palm of the left hand while simultaneously relaxing the right hand and letting the vial
with the lit match fall toward the left hand, which grabs the descending vial between the
thumb and second and third fingers.

Here’s the part you don’t want to hear: there is a knack to this. The part you do want to
hear: it’s not a hard knack to acquire. You’ll find out gravity does almost all the work for
you. The first thing you may have problems with is the vial with the lit match tumbling
when it drops: if that’s the case, make sure the fingers of your right hand are straight
when you drop the vial down. To be honest, that was the worst part of getting this
handling down.

Okay, where you’re at now is that the vial with the unlit match is resting in the palm of
the left hand while the vial with the lit match is being held by the left hand fingers and
thumb. As soon as the drop takes place, spread the fingers of the right hand wide, palm
toward the spectator again (and, again, screaming that the hand is empty without uttering

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a word). Take the vial with the lit match slowly into the right hand, holding it so the lid of
the vial can be seen through the top of the fist, which you’re holding very loosely.

Hold your right fist out away from the body. Begin the necessary dramatics. I’m not
being flippant here: those dramatics are definitely necessary. Strain a little, concentrate a
little, if it helps genuinely push yourself into thinking that match alight. Regardless, focus
on your fist and that little vial it is holding.

And, during all of that, silently and easily ditch the extra vial.

Oh, hush. Believe me, if you are going on with the dramatics well enough, you have more
than all the time in the world to get rid of the thing. Lapping it is a piece of cake; I’ve had
enough coverage to put it right back into my pants pocket without a sweat. You are well
covered here. If you’re skittish, there is another time to ditch it, and that is when the
spectator opens the vial after you’ve done all the build-up, which by the way, goes like
this:

Open your hand quickly, as if you’ve been burned or as if the vial got too hot to hold. Let
the vial hit the table. Look at it (and ditching the vial, if you haven’t already), and ask the
spectator to pick up the vial. Reassure them that the vial “isn’t that hot now” (a subtle
suggestion that the vial is still a bit hot). Let her open the vial, see the smoke, notice the
match, and dump it out.

The end.

Don’t overlook this one because of the oh-so-simple method. Done deliberately and with
a great deal of openness (built into the routine courtesy of the switch used), a switch
looks impossible to accomplish. Remember, the pacing here is nice and slow and
deliberate with no rushing to do anything.

Put all together, it’s a stunning piece.

Maybe that makes it strange after all.

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The Return of Casanova, More or Less

During which it is discovered it is impossible to keep a good man… down.

Foreword time again. Listen up, because this one is important (as opposed to my usual
unimportant blatherings).

The following effect uses fire. Fire is a dangerous thing. Misuse of fire and flammable
materials can result in damage and injury. Please use all necessary precautions when
performing this or any routine using fire or flame. Under no circumstances should a
minor perform this without the permission and oversight of an adult. Perform this and
all other similar effects at your own risk.

There. Now you can’t say you haven’t been warned.

“I have something interesting to show you. I bought it the other day and I’m quite proud
of it, so forgive my exuberance. Oh, and my bragging and gloating. I’m just proud.”

The performer brings out a small metal box.

“Inside this box, I have some of the ashes of renowned, famous, legendary soldier, spy,
diplomat, adventurer, and lover, Giacomo Casanova. That is correct: these ashes belong
to the man considered by many to be the greatest lover in history according to his
memoirs. Now, I read on the Internet that Casanova was buried, not cremated, but you
know you can’t believe everything on the Internet. I’m confident these are really
Casanova’s ashes because I bought them on eBay.

“Sure. Go ahead and laugh. But these really are Casanova’s ashes. Not because I bought
them in an online auction for $32.56, but because… well, let me show you, and then
you’ll know these are the genuine article.

“I’ll need your help, if you don’t mind. Nothing strenuous, I just need your hands. May I
see your hands for a moment? Hold them out like this. A bit higher please. Thank you.
Are you right-handed or left-handed? Right-handed? Excellent. Make a fist of your right
hand and put it on the table in front of you so nothing can come near it without you
knowing it.”

The performer opens the box. Inside is another, smaller box and a small pad of paper,
which are removed very carefully and laid out on the table quite reverently. The
performer takes a small piece of paper from the pad and puts it on the table. Opening the
small box carefully, the performer reaches in, grabbing a pinch of the contents and then,
respectfully and dramatically announces, “I present to you now, the ashes of Casanova!”
As he does so, he drops the black ash on the white paper for all to see.

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“Yes, that’s about the reaction I thought I’d get. I’ll grant you he’s not much to look at
now, but I imagine that’s what having a hundred and twenty-two affairs will do to you.
Well, that and a crematorium. Besides, despite his legendary prowess, Casanova was only
five-feet and nine-inches… tall. So we shouldn’t expect much.

“But we were talking about these ashes and their authenticity, weren’t we?”

The performer closes the larger tin box, gently placing the paper and the ashes on top of
it. He then brings out a box of matches.

“One thing we know about Casanova was that he definitely had a way of working his
way into a woman’s… heart. Would you be so kind as to hold your hand over your heart,
please? Thank you.

“The other thing we know is Casanova always compared sensual love – you know, the
kind that sounds slightly like a number between five and seven – to heat, to a flame, to
fire, to a burning. And with those ideas of his, I’ll prove my case.”

The performer strikes a match, lighting it, and touches it to the ashes. In a bright flash,
the ashes and the paper holding them, burn into nothing, leaving naught behind.

“Cheap theatrics? Special effects? Or did I prove my case? Let’s see…

“First, I asked a lovely young lady to help me, which she graciously has done. Casanova
would have approved most wholeheartedly and, to be honest, would have been, well, let’s
say ‘smitten’.

“Second, Casanova was consumed with the idea of passion as a fire, always burning,
always alight. Surely the sudden burst of flame would have been an idea of his own
making.

“Third, I would say that, in a burst of fiery passion he would have gone straight for the
heart of this lovely lady post haste. Which is why I had her hold her fist over her heart; so
she could stop him.

“The proof, of course, is obvious. Open your fist and see Casanova for yourself.”

The spectator does so, revealing a smudge of ashes in her palm.

“Or, at least, Casanova’s ashes.”

Ah, the good ol’ “Voodoo Ashes”. Can’t beat it for getting a reaction from the
unsuspecting.

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But why do it in the first place? I’m sorry, but this routine, classic though it is, just never
struck me as something for which I’d ever find a permanent spot in my heart. The reason
is simple: I just didn’t really connect with the effect. Why would ashes move around? Oh,
I could manufacture something – and did numerous times before giving up in frustration
– but nothing really clicked for me.

And if it don’t click, I don’t do it. End o’ story.

I had given up, as I usually do, when I saw Bill Abbott’s routine for the old ash trick on
his DVD, “Performing Close-Up Magic for Kids” (which, by the way, I dearly and
passionately love – you’d do well to look this one up). On it, Bill uses the ashes to bring
back memories of his poor dead dog. It’s a delightful presentation for children and adults
and his thinking on the routine is genius.

But my audiences expect something more than dead dogs. At first I thought about playing
Bill’s routine for tears instead of laughs, but I just couldn’t get it where I wanted it – face
it, carrying around a dead pet’s ashes is just plain silly. Then, as I was thinking about the
routine and how to make the presentation fit, I remembered reading somewhere that the
ash trick plays better for women than for men.

Something, at last, clicked.

If I was going to be using a female spectator for this, then why not someone who
wouldn’t have minded being with that female spectator? Sought her out, in fact? And
why couldn’t it be the most famous lover in the world?

And suddenly I had Casanova’s ashes and the funny little asides to go with it.

Setup: There’s a bit of work involved, but once you’ve done this, you’re set for life (or at
least until some of the items are exhausted, in which case you just buy more):

• A small pad of flash paper.

• Flash powder.
• A box or pack of matches.
• A small metal box that closes securely. Note that this will be holding the flash
powder, so select appropriately and safely. If it has something appropriate on the
lid, such as hearts or the like, so much the better.
• A larger metal box, which will hold the small metal box along with the pad of
flash paper. Again, this box is holding flammable, combustible, dangerous stuff,
so choose wisely.
• Some soft spongy foam usually used in packing material. I ended up buying a
small foam pillow for a dollar and gutting it.
• A small plastic container that will sit mouth-up comfortably in your pocket. I use
a 35mm film canister.
• Some scrap paper, such as newspaper.
• A few moist towelettes.

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First things first: cut the foam so that it will fit inside the larger metal box. Cut a hole in
this so that the smaller metal box will fit securely inside it. If the smaller box rattling or
opening is a possibility because of the size of the larger box, then cut a piece of foam to
also line the lid the of the larger box. Basically, you’re on your own here, but what you’re
trying to accomplish is a way to pack everything into the larger box and keep anything
from jostling around, spilling the flash powder. Once you’ve got the foam cut
appropriately, glue it into place so everything is nice and secure.

Next, put some of the flash powder into the smaller box. These will pass for Casanova’s
ashes. Put the box into the foam cutout you made above. On top of this, place the flash
paper from the pad. Close the box securely and you’re done.

Burn some of the scrap paper, creating real, honest-to-goodness ashes. Put those
authentic ashes into the plastic container. Put this in the pocket with the nested boxes and
the moist toilettes.

Put the matches in your pocket – another pocket. Away from the flash stuff. Yes, I’m
paranoid; I do not want to be the Magician Who Burned His Ass on the evening news,
nor do you. Better safe than sorry.

At this point, you’re ready to perform.

Method: If you’re familiar with the “Voodoo Ashes” routine, you already know where
I’m going here just from the set-up. If you’re not, the performance is frightfully easy.

Bring out the metal box. As you do this, put the second finger of your hand into the
container, getting some of the real ash on your fingertip.

Go into the presentation. Don’t be overly conscious of the smudge on your finger; just
handle the props with the thumb and first finger, keeping the second finger slightly bent
toward the palm. Overly fretting about it is not needed.

When it comes time for the spectator to generously donate her hand, ask her to hold both
hands out, palms down and open. Take her hands by her fingers in your hands, one to
each, and raise them a bit higher “so that everyone can see”. If you’re performing this just
for her, raise them up to comment on her jewelry because “Casanova would have loved
that ring”. All you really need is an excuse…

…To very softly press your second finger into her left palm and gently move it back
toward you as your move her hands upward. That’s it. You’ve now got the ashes
transferred to her long before the trick really starts.
Have her close her fist and hold it on the table in front of her.

Now, you’ll notice there’s a bit of by-play on whether the spectator is right-handed or
left-handed in the presentation. This is just my way of being extra careful when applying

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the ashes to her palm. It’s misdirection on a very subliminal scale. By going into that,
basically the spectator’s mind is a bit taken with a lot happening at once (but being aware
of very little): I’m touching her fingers (not her hands), raising her hands (without
touching them), and I’m asking her a question she has to think about, even for a split
second. With all that going on, a little thing like lightly touching her palm goes
completely unnoticed. And it doesn’t matter which hand is her dominant one; always
simply use the one you placed the smudge on. How simple is that?

Close the larger metal box. Take one of the sheets of flash paper and place it on the table,
flattening it if necessary. Open the smaller box, extract a very small pinch of flash
powder (supposedly ashes), and place that pinch on the flash paper. Pick up the paper
with the powder and place it on top of the metal box. Close the small box and put it with
the rest of the paper.

Reach into your pocket and get the matches. Light one, holding it high away from the
combustibles on the larger box. With the other hand, push the matches, the small metal
box of flash powder, and the other pieces of flash paper to the side, away from the large
metal box. Do not make a demonstration of this; just give the impression, more or less, of
getting them out of your way.

And keep your hand covering them.

I said it a few times, and I’ll say it again: this is dangerous stuff you’re doing. Take some
precautions. By moving the rest of the flammable stuff aside and keeping your hand on it,
you’re safeguarding it that much more against an accidental lighting. From a performance
standpoint, this looks natural and is basically forgotten since, as you’re doing this, you’re
bringing the match down to the ashes and focusing all your attention there. From a safety
standpoint, you’re preventing something that, although unlikely to happen, could happen
(which is what safety is all about, isn’t it?).

Now, light the paper. Of course, the paper burns, the powder burns, and there’s nothing
left of a piece of poor old Casanova.

Proceed with the revelation as in the presentation.

Put everything back in the box as you originally had it. Put the matches back in your
pocket, and the metal box back in its pocket. You’re now handily set to repeat this to
your heart’s desire.

Give the moist towelette to the spectator. I know, some magician’s think it’s oh-so-cool
to have the spectator walk around with a dirt smudge on their hand until they go to the
restroom to wash up from some dorky trick. It’s not cool; it’s stupid. It’s also
inconsiderate. Especially here, where you have the spectator dirtied with some dead
Italian’s cremated body part. Be nice: give her the towelette.

That’s all there is to it.

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Did I mention to be careful performing this? Just checking.

This is a very slick method of presenting the “Voodoo Ashes”. It’s reasonably self-
contained, packs a little hefty but not detrimentally so, and plays big.

I went for a more comedic presentation here for two reasons: one is that I have enough
scary, chilling, emotionally charged, creepy pieces; I needed a few funny and silly pieces.
This is one of them. If you want something a bit darker, there are many themes left to be
explored (ash from the remnants of the One True Cross comes immediately to mind) so
that exploration is readily open to you.

The other reason is that I’m tired of seeing bizarrists take themselves so seriously over
their props. If I see one more of them pull out a wand – finished in acrylic varnish – and
call it Merlin’s Actual Wand, I’m wreaking havoc. Same goes for tarot decks used by
pharaohs of the First Dynasty, necklaces of one Borgia or the other, and the Actual Axe
Used By Lizzie Borden. I’m not kidding, folks; these are some of the things bizarrists do
and blind themselves to the fact that THE AUDIENCE KNOWS THEY ARE LYING.
And when that happens as it pertains to props, the bizarrist has ceased to be anything but
a caricature and a poor one at that.

It’s sad.

So, how do I get around such things when I do want to bring in a weird and “authentic”
prop? Here, and in other places (I’m consistent, you have to give me that), I purposely
lead the audience to immediately question the validity of the item’s authenticity. By the
end of the routine, I’ve put questions in their heads about that item’s origins. And if
they’re questioning, then I’ve got a potential believer on my hands. It’s really that simple.

By way of disclosure, I should tell you I don’t always do that with comedy in mind. I
have several items that are the real deal, and those get played for real more often than not.
In my mind, I make it an issue of dollars and cents: would I really have a ruby ring of
Cleopatra’s when anyone in their right mind would have it locked up in a safety deposit
box in Switzerland with its own personal guard? If the answer’s “no”, then I put the
question to the audience. If the answer is a big “you betcha”, then I just whip it out and
go for broke.

‘Nuff said. I have to go polish the original wand used by Circe. I traded a copy of “1001
Tricks To Do With A Chrome Thumbtip” for it.

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Coins for the Ferryman, Plus a Little Something For the Crew
Wherein it’s pondered what the effect of dropping a silly little tradition could be
and why debt reduction is a must.

“My family, like many I’m sure, is rooted in traditions and customs we carry with us
from one generation to the next. But we dropped one a long time ago along with
everyone else.

“We don’t put pennies on the eyes of our dead anymore. Do you? I didn’t think so. It’s
passé, blasé, and actually quite silly to think about doing it, isn’t it? Of course it is.

“But, what if…?

“Do you know where that tradition came from? You see, there’s this personification of
death called Charon. Charon is the ferryman who carries the souls of the dead across the
River of Forgetfulness. Pennies were put on the dead person’s eyes to pay the ferryman
for this passage. If the fare wasn’t paid, then the soul of the dead was destined to wander
beside the river for eternity.”

Two pennies are shown.

“When I found these, I started thinking ‘What if…?’

“What if, since we all stopped that tradition a hundred years ago or so, the ferryman was
getting a bit irked at not being paid.

“And what if, since he’s getting a bit fed up with being short-changed…

“Instead of letting those millions of dead souls wander around by the river, he began to
bring them back until the debt of all those fares was paid?

“Now that I don’t like thinking about at all. But, what if…

“So I’m not taking any chances. Not only am I going to make sure my passage gets paid
to the ferryman, but I’m going to pay extra to make sure a few of those souls don’t get
returned.”

The pennies are placed on the table and instantly change to two half-dollars. The hands
are seen to be empty.

“Pennies nothing! I’m going with silver in hand… or in eye if you prefer.

The halves are picked up and held at the fingertips.

“But, that dreaded ‘what if’ again…

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“What if the ferryman is a teamster?”

The halves are separated and seen to turn into two folded bills. These are given to a
spectator to unfold, revealing $100 bills.

“Well, better safe than sorry. That last thing we want is the ferryman on strike!”

Set-up: The initial change of the pennies to two half dollars comes courtesy of an old
Steve Dusheck creation. It’s an extremely clever, extremely visual thing, and quite easy
to make.

You’ll need two folding halves, two Lincoln pennies, and some magician’s wax. Put
some of the wax on the lower half of one of the pennies. Fold one of the halves as usual,
and then stick the penny to the half so that, when the half is hidden in the fingers, it
appears you are holding just a penny. Releasing the half will let the half unfold and hide
the penny. That’s really all there is to it. You may have to do some playing to get enough
wax to keep the penny from coming loose, but it’s a minor thing (or, you could do as
Dusheck did and solder the penny in place for a more permanent gimmick).

Make up another gimmick using the other folding half and penny. The hard part is now
done. All that remains is to fold two $100 bills into eights. A note here: the $100 bills are
not strictly needed; $5s, $10s, and $20s will work as well. If you want to alter things a
bit, you could use two of those gag million dollar bill and change the ending accordingly.
The problem there is that the folding and unfolding of the gag bill will take its toll fairly
quickly – pack spares.

Put one of the half gimmicks in your right pocket and one in your left. Put the two folded
bills into the right pocket. You’re ready to go!

Performance: Start in with the presentation. Reach into the pockets and bring out the
half gimmicks, half folded and hidden by the fingers. The cleanest way I’ve found of
doing this, and still looking natural, is to hold the gimmick so the folded half runs along
the first and second finger, held in place at the first joint of the fingers by the thumb, with
the penny being seen at the top of the first finger.

In this position, continue with the presentation. When the time comes, hold the hands
about three inches over the table, turn the hands at the wrist so the hands are palm down.
As soon as they are, quickly open the hands, spreading the fingers wide. The result is that
the coins drop and unfold as they are falling while the fingers give enough coverage to
prevent too clear a view. When you move your hands away, and simultaneously turning
the hands palm up, the change is seen clearly to have happened and is very startling.
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The next change comes courtesy of a spellbound change. In performance, I use a tap
change that, admittedly, is a bit more advanced (and a bit more of a headache – those
pesky angles rear their ugly heads at the worse times). However, the simple spellbound
change described here is very easy and very effective in it’s own right. Of course, if
you’re more advanced, then any spellbound change you are comfortable with will work;
please, though, for the love of heaven do not use any switch that does not have a solid
visual component to it. The first change was extremely open; the second change should at
least appear to be as clean. So no clink changes or Bobo switches – although they are
good, they don’t belong here.

Back to the performance.

Pick up the two half dollars and hold them in left hand at the fingertips, by the edges of
the coins, thumb on top, fingers on bottom. This is the standard spellbound position. As
you’re going on – you have a sentence or two to deliver to give you time and
misdirection – take the folded bills from your pocket in the right hand. The bills should
be held flat in a front palm position, that is, the bills are flat against the fingers, held
between the first and second joints of the fingers between the first and fourth fingers that
hold them in place by pushing slightly toward each other.

To effect the change, bring the right hand in front of the halves. As you do, relax the left
thumb and let the right thumb push the coins so they fall into a finger palm in the left
hand.

Yes, they will talk. Don’t worry about it. You’re not done yet.

In a continuing motion, move the right hand to the right, as if wiping the coins with the
fingers. As you do this, leave behind one of the folded bills in the left hand, held as the
coins where between the thumb and fingers. In the same motion, push the folded bill in
the right hand in view at the second and third fingertips. The left hand, meanwhile, has
applied a slight pressure to the bill with the thumb, letting it flip into a position similar to
the right hand. The plus is that the coins are now in position for the Ramsey subtlety and
both hands are in the same position.

Perfect. A change has occurred and both hands look empty. Congratulations!

Drop both bills in the spectator’s hand or on the table. Ask her to unfold them. As she
does, ditch the gimmicks with no fanfare.

The end.

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Another quick bit. I have to admit a great fondness for this routine. It’s short, strikingly
visual, and entertaining. The whole by-play with Charon and the pennies and dead
people... it all plays.

Now, about that clink… don’t worry about it. You won’t get called on it. The spectators
just saw one very open, very visual change; they are not expecting another. When you
(supposedly) remove one of the coins with one hand while still holding on to the other
coin, there should naturally be some sound anyway. Here the sound almost bolsters the
illusion of the change being much more visual than it truly is. And that’s slick. The trick
is to keep the hands open and for the Ramsey subtlety to be allowed to do its job. When
you do that, you get away with murder.

Clink? What clink?

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The Forgotten
In which it is seen that the whiners re-write history and so does everyone else.

The performer looks through a deck of playing cards and removes nine: the four Kings
and Queens of all the suits and an advertising card from a deck of cards. The rest of the
deck is set aside.

"Here's something I'll bet you didn't know, or maybe knew but forgot. These Kings
actually represent real men from history." The Kings are laid out in a row on the table.

"These Queens, I guess, may represent real women from history. But if that's the case,
people have forgot." The Queens are laid out in a row, underneath the Kings.

"This is basically junk and we can forget about it." The performer tears the advertising
card in half and sets it aside.

"But isn't it always the case? People come and go and, sometimes with a little bit of
forgetting, they lose their place in our hearts and, sometimes, even in history.

"I'm reminded of a woman one time who dared to speak her mind on religion, openly and
in public, at a time when such things were blasphemy. 'How dare she!' yelled one of the
religious leaders of the time." A King and Queen are put together, separated, and the
Queen is shown to have vanished, leaving nothing but a blank card in her place. "And
just like that, some people forgot about this spiritual woman."

"Then this same woman asserted herself as equal to men, when such things were heresy.
'The nerve of that mere woman!' exclaimed one of the leaders of that time." Again, a
King and Queen are paired together, separated, and again the Queen is gone. Only a
blank card remains. "And just that quickly, some more people forgot about this woman of
strength and wisdom."

"Time passed and the woman died and passed herself, entering history. But the leaders at
the time had taken a dislike to all women, regardless of how they were revered, so a man
decided to remake her image into that of a whore." A third King and Queen are placed
face to face, separated, and for the third time, the Queen vanishes from the face of the
card. "And then more people forgot about her, thinking her only a whore."

"More time came and went, and the woman was all but forgotten except as an allegory, a
character in a parable. Another man, you see, decided she really had no place in the great
scheme of things." The last King and Queen are put together, pulled apart, and the Queen,
like the others, is gone. "And the woman who sat at the feet of the Christ was forgotten a
bit more.

"But one has to wonder what would happen if we remembered things. If we remembered
Christ loved her above all others, that he chose to appear to her before all others when he
came back after his death, that more than anyone other than his own mother she suffered

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as he died. What would happen if we forgot the words we've heard so many times? If we
looked a bit closer at what we used to remember?"

The advertising card, torn in half, is turned over. On each half is the Ace of Spades. The
performer pushes the two pieces together, pointing to the regal figure of a woman on the
card.

"Would we remember Mary Magdalene? Or just continue to forget her?"

Set-up: What you’ll need is a deck of Bicycle playing cards, complete with advertising
card, and four blank-faced cards with backs to match the deck (obvious, I know).

Remove the Ace of Spades and tear it in half widthwise.

Make sure the Kings and Queens are dispersed throughout the deck. On top of the deck,
place the two halves of the Ace of Spades, one on top of the other. Place the four blank
cards face down on top of these halves. On the bottom of the deck, place the advertising
card. Put the deck in the case with the advertising card facing the front of the case (note
that you may have to remove some cards here to get everything to fit comfortably and
loosely).

That’s it. Simple enough. Now to the fun part!

Performance: Bring out the deck case, holding it so the front of the case is on top.
Remove the deck from the case by tilting the case toward your hand. This will allow the
torn pieces to come out easily and still be covered by the deck and the case.

Set the case aside. The deck is held in the hand face up, that is, with the advertising card
uppermost.

Spread through the deck openly, faces down so the spectator can see. Outjog the four
Kings about half their length. Close the spread into the left hand, stripping them out by
taking hold of the Kings with the left thumb and first finger and removing the deck with
the right hand at the near end. This leaves the face-up Kings behind in the left hand. Place
the deck on top of them, face up of course, and turn the entire deck face down so the
Kings are now on top of the deck. Deal the four Kings onto the table in a row.

Turn the deck face up in the left hand again. Again spread through the deck, this time
upjogging the Queens. Close the spread into the left hand again. This time, though, as
you strip out the Queens, you also add the four blank cards to the back of the Queens.
This is a simple thing since the halves of the Ace give you a break. All you have to do is
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grip the Queens between the left thumb and first finger and pull the deck away with the
right hand, leaving behind the blank cards and the Queens on top of them. Use the second
finger of the right hand to press the halves of the Ace against the deck so they don’t fall
to the table. Put the deck on top of the Queens face up, as you did with the Kings, and
turn everything face down. Deal the alleged Queens (actually the blank cards) in a row
behind the four Kings.

The position you are at now is this: you have the four Kings on the table, face down in a
row of four. Behind them you have the four blank cards, supposedly the Queens, also
face down in a row of four. On top of the deck you have the four Queens, then the two
halves of the Ace. On the face of the deck is the advertising card. The deck is held face
down in the left hand.

To continue, turn the deck face up in the left hand, letting the pieces fall from the deck.
This is quite easy and the pieces remain invisible (as well they should, undoubtedly). To
do this, bring the right hand over on top of the deck, holding it in a Biddle grip (that is,
thumb at the read of the deck, the four fingers at the front) with a break held above the
four Queens with the right thumb. Drop the left hand a bit and use the fingers of the left
hand to turn the deck perpendicular to the left hand with the long left edge now facing up.
The halves of the Ace will fall into the left hand but be covered by the right hand.
Without any hesitation whatsoever continue to turn the deck face up using the right
fingers as a pivot point. The result is that the deck is fully face-up in the left hand, the
halves have dropping in the left hand at the base of the fingers and it all happens under
cover the right hand.

Push the advertising card to the right side of the deck. Turn the ad card so it is
perpendicular to the deck, that is with the short ends to your right and left. Tear the
advertising card in half, using the deck as a straight edge. Put the two pieces on the face
of the deck.

Now comes the switch for which I have no name. I’ve seen it performed in a variety of
circumstances using a variety of objects. Not knowing about it makes it no less of a
clever, invisible switch.

Move the deck to the fingertips of the left hand, thumb on top, the halves of the Ace
underneath and held in place by the fingertips. Rotate the left hand so the deck is face
down over the table. As you do this, hold the torn pieces of the ad card against the face of
the deck with the thumb and letting the halves of the Ace fall to the table by releasing the
pressure on them with the fingers. The Ace pieces fall to the table but are taken to be the
ad card halves, which are secured on the bottom of the deck with the thumb.

Put the deck aside, hiding the halves under it. From this point on, the trick is finished and
all that’s left are the revelations.

Reveal each blank card by picking up the King in front of it, showing it, and placing it
face up underneath the face down blank. Flip both cards over, the separate them, showing

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the blank card. Turn the King face up again and return it to its original position on the
table.

Repeat this sequence for each of the Kings and blank cards.

Put one of the halves under the other, then turn them both over as one. Spread them, and
then arrange them so they form a complete Ace of Spades.

Finis.

Now, I don’t usually do this, but I’m going to cop to something here.

This is not the method I use for performing this effect. In reality, it’s nowhere close.

But I have my reasons. If you’re thinking it’s to cover up some grand high mystery that I
wish to keep secret from you, you’re way off the beaten path. After all, what I give you is
usually exactly what I do or have done, this being the exception to that rule. And besides,
my motive is altruistic:

There’s no way in Hells you’d do it my way because it uses a sleight you’re probably not
familiar with and will never learn because you simply can’t learn it in a minute or two.
What I give you above is the alternate methodology that is far easier (though not, in my
opinion, any simpler) and will not have you running and screaming from this routine or
the rest in this book.

Having confessed and feeling my load lighter, let’s go on.

This is, simply, a reversed Wild Card with print disappearing instead of appearing or
changing. Looking at it this way, you’ll see a variety of ways of pulling this off, using
lots of gimmicked cards and a lot of sleights here and there combined with a bit of
psychology to pull of the changes… in other words, things every “bizarrist” hates.

Ptooie. It’s a good tale, I think, and the effect tells the tale nicely.

About the torn advertising card, don’t dismiss it as unnecessary and substitute some full-
card transformation. This is, after all, a bit of performance art; that torn card means
something and that meaning changes as the card changes. It is an artistic point that
becomes a dramatic point; it needs to stay. If you’re worried about going through ad
cards right and left, don’t. Contact any dealer who sales force decks and you should be
able to finagle a “force deck” of ad cards for next to nothing.

Lastly, this is a piece of gospel magic, though it’s a personal gospel and probably doesn’t
count. With the popularity of “The DaVinci Code” and a resurgence of interest in the
Magdalene, this routine has found its spotlight, however small and dim it may be.
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Okay, okay, for the sake of completeness, and just in case you might really care to do it
this way, here’s a very brief sketch of how I perform the routine. Now my conscience is
really clear.

Set-up the deck with the four blanks on the face of the deck, the torn Ace on top of them,
and then the ad card so that the ad card is visible on the face of the deck. Spread, up jog,
and remove first the four Kings and then the four Queens, putting them on the table in
two face-up piles. Call attention to the ad card, begin to turn it as above, but raise the
deck so it faces you as you turn the ad card perpendicularly to the deck. Tear the ad card
in half. Bring the hands together, supposedly to take the other half of the ad card, but
leave the right hand’s half behind and take the other two halves – the Ace – instead. Put
them on the table. Casually cut the deck from the middle, keeping the blanks on the
bottom but hiding the halves in the middle. Spread the Kings and Queens on the table,
close them, and execute a Curry Turnover Change on the Queens, substituting the blanks
in their place. Put the deck in its case. Finish with the revelations as above.

Told you it wasn’t easier. But now ya know.

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Pennies Back and Forth

Wherein is seen one superstition breeds another, thankfully.

“A good friend of mine once asked me what became of the pennies we used to give to the
ferryman via the eyes of our dearly departed. Of course, something so obvious is never
discussed as part of that superstition, but I think it’s safe to assume the ferryman didn’t
use it to pay for a condo on the river, or take many vacations in Vegas. And the answer, I
suspect, isn’t really such a deep dark secret, really.

“You see, the ferryman gives the pennies back. Not to the dead, mind you – it would do
them no good – he gives them back to us.

“It sounds stupid, I know, but think about it for a moment. How many times do you see a
penny laying on the ground as you’re going about your day’s business? And you know if
you were to ask people around at the time, none would claim it as theirs. So where did
that penny come from?

“And why don’t you pick up every penny you find like that? You may pick one up then
ignore the next one. You may never pick any of them up – they’re just pennies, after all;
barely worth the effort – and then one day you pick one up almost without thinking.

“’See a penny, pick it up, and all the day you’ll have good luck.’ That’s the old saying,
isn’t it?

“Do you have any pennies? You do? May I have them?”

The performer takes the two pennies.

“You see, we put the pennies on the eyes of our deceased, then the ferryman collects
them.”

The pennies are counted openly and dropped into his hand. Opening his hands, the
pennies are shown to have vanished.

“And then he gives them back to us.”

The performer closes his hand, and then reopens it. The hand is still empty. No pennies
have returned.

“But not like that. Not that easily. You’ll find your penny again. Just look around as you
walk. And when you see it, you’ll know it, and you’ll know it didn’t come from me; it
will have come from the ferryman, who knows that particular penny is the only one you
need that day and that you won’t need two of the pennies.

“The ferryman, after all, is busy enough as is.”

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Set-up: Very little is needed in the way of set-up here; you’ll just need a rubber
thumbtip. As a precaution, carry a couple of pennies with you in case the spectators don’t
have any to lend to the cause.

Performance: Before starting, get the thumbtip in your left hand, held in position for the
Ramsey Subtlety. In other words, hold the thumbtip in the left hand, held at the base of
the second and third fingers and with the opening toward the second and third fingertips.
The “nail” side of the tip should be against the fingers.

Borrow the pennies, taking them in the right hand. Jingle them a bit as you tell the story.
As you do this, hold the left hand with the palm toward you, angled slightly, and relax the
second and third fingers. This causes the opening of the thumbtip to be accessible.

Count the pennies one at a time into the left hand. In reality, drop them singly into the
thumbtip. Shake the hand a bit, letting them clink against each other. Make a fist of the
left hand, slipping the thumbtip onto the left thumb.

Open your hand, showing it empty. Open the right hand as well. Rub your hands
together, as if wiping them. No big dramatic movements here; do everything casually and
softly.

Ditch your thumbtip when an opportunity arises.

The end.

Needless to say, this is the perfect follow-up to “Coins for the Ferryman” and I always
perform it as such. “Pennies Back and Forth” is tiny in terms of magic but it plays
wonderfully.

It also breaks all the rules. I love it for that.

First, the pennies disappear and do not reappear. Your spectator is out two cents. And we
all know that you don’t alter something a spectator lends you without making it right in
the end.

In this routine, your spectator is out two cents. Horrors.

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They’ll get over it. The premise of the effect allows them that their coins will return, one
way or the other. And we are only talking two cents here; it is not that big a deal to many.
Having said that, it did matter to one spectator I did this for: he wanted his pennies back
(I suspect he wanted to see them reappear magically, the poor unsuspecting fellow). I
reached into my pocket, pulled out two pennies, and gave them to him. He just looked at
them. “But a warning, too; you’ve got your pennies – don’t pick up any you may find. It
may be, well, let’s say ‘unlucky’.” He gave me my pennies back with a low mumble of
“no, thanks”. He also called me a week later for an event, but that’s another story.

The point is that sometimes it’s better to leave magic incomplete, leaving something
altered in that altered state. In this routine, those vanished pennies need to stay gone.

Second, this is one of the few routines I do where there is more talking than magic and
the pacing so slow because of it. This may not be your rule, but it is mine: “Thou shalt
not commit either magic or story in grand amounts of unequal measure.” Here I break my
own rule.

There is much talking here with little actually going on. Now, when compared to some of
the – let’s be generous here – expansive commentary dished out on a regular basis by
well-meaning bizarrists and storytelling magicians, my diatribe is still remarkably short.

But it plays. It also plays as an after-piece to “Coins for the Ferryman”. In short, for a
verbose little thing, it works very well.

For posterity, let it be known Robert Neale is the one who posed this question to me after
I had shown him an advance of “Coins”. My answer to him is the presentation above,
almost word for word. Thanks to Bob and his innocent question, a nice little routine was
born.

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Slasher: The Day After the Night Before the Dawn of the Nightmare of
a Texas Chainsaw Psycho Maniac, Part 17
In which much is revealed about the performer and it’s wondered why the
authorities haven’t done anything about him yet.

“I have to confess I have a very bad vice in my life. Oh, not drinking, or smoking, both of
which would be a great deal cheaper than the truth. And not women… much to my
eternal regret. You see, I’m quite addicted to horror movies. It doesn’t matter if it’s a
high-budget Hollywood hit or a penny-ante thing shot in somebody’s backyard; I just
love the genre.

“I know: I need professional help, don’t I?

“After all, it’s not like they’re high art or anything. In fact, virtually every horror movie
boils down to a very simple formula. Here, let me explain.”

A small packet of cards is shown.

“First, you need victims. Now, the more attractive, the more… curvy, the better. And
preferably they should be wearing very little to hide their… obvious charms. Also, the
victims should be interchangeable, generic; no one will remember names, just body
parts”

Four of the cards are shown to have pictures of lovely, scantily clad women on them.
These are placed on the table face down.

“Second, you need a location for the murders to take place. Of course, given the nature of
the victims, the spot the murders occur doesn’t really matter at all, does it?”

The remaining cards are shown to be blank.

“And, of course, the four girls never start off together. That would make it too easy for
the maniac slasher. All the eggs in one basket and the like, you know. Also, the movie
would be shorter by about a half-hour.

“So let’s say that the first girl -- who always has a name but no one ever remembers it --
is somewhere.” Three of the blank cards are put on top of the first card.

“And the second girl is somewhere else…” Three blank cards are put on top of the
second card.

“So is the third girl, but somewhere else entirely…” Again, three blank cards are put on
the third card.

“And the last girl is nowhere near the others.” The last three blank cards are put on the
fourth card.

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“Next, after the victims and the locations, you need a murder weapon. The Second Rule
of Maniac Slashing: your weapon is your trademark, so a distinctive or unusual weapon
is best.

“You don’t happen to have anything distinctive or unusual on you, by any chance? A
large knife, maybe? A chainsaw? Blender? Cheese grater? I’ll admit I’m a bit unprepared
for this. Well, the corollary to the second rule is ‘When all else fails, improvise’, so I’ll
have to do that.”

A dollar bill is taken and folded into as dangerous a weapon as it could be.

“I’ll grant you it may not look like much, but think about it: what could be worse than
death by paper cuts. I can see you squirming now.

“Now, just like there are rules for the Maniac Slasher, there’s also rules for the victims.
You probably know some of these.

“If you’re in a horror movie, don’t have pre-marital sex. Ever. Virgins never die in horror
films. This first girl, well, she was knocking uglies with somebody, so… she dies!”

The paper sword is jabbed repeatedly at the first stack of cards. The packet is turned over
and now all four cards are seen to be blank.

“She escaped? Well, admittedly that’s unusual. She should be in pieces by now.

The next packet in the row is shown to now contain two victims.

“Ah! So she ran off to join her friend thinking there is safety in numbers! Oh, it is to
laugh!

“Next rule for victims: never use drugs. Ever. Not even alcohol. Now these girls, they
were smoking a joint to relieve the stress of their imminent demise so… they die!”

The paper sword is sawed on the second stack of cards. The packet is turned over and all
four cards are seen to be blank.

“They got away? What the… they should have been decapitated at least! Maybe the next
one…

The next packet is shown to now contain three victims.

“So there they are! All huddled together, sensing their coming doom! As well they
should!

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“Another rule for victims: never go outside to investigate a strange noise. Don’t even
peep outside the window. These girls, though, obviously know what’s coming and are
curious about when it will happen.” A snap of the fingers. “And out they go to see what
that was sound was, so… they die!”

The paper sword is thrust mightily at the third packet. The packet is turned over and all
four cards are blank.

“Again? Again! No! I will not be thwarted! I am a force of nature! I am Doom itself! I
am the awesome thunder of evil and I will have my vengeance against all who I deem
must die!”

After a deep breath and a look of confusion, the performer meekly continues.

“Where the hell did that come from? What I meant was that the maniac would say that he
was a force of nature and doom and all that stuff. I mean, I’m not really putting myself
into the place of a maniacal killer or anything.” The performer smiles a genuine smile…

And slams the paper sword directly onto the top of the remaining pile. Over and over the
little sword keeps getting plunged onto the stack of helpless cards. Eventually, the faux
attack stops.

“The Last Rule of Maniac Slashing: no matter what happens, don’t give up; just keep
slashing.”

The performer turns over the last packet.

The cards are spread and shown to be now pictures of the victims. Or rather the parts of
the victims.

“My psychologist – I mean, my bartender! -- always told me persistence pays off!”

The cards set aside are gathered up.

“You look a little uncomfortable. Did I freak you out a bit?”

The cards showing the dead victims are gathered up and then turned over. The victims are
seen to be perfectly and blissfully healthy and, yes, whole.

“You know what they say: Oh, relax; it’s just a movie!”

Set-up: The set-up here numbs the mind. Not because there’s anything difficult to do
once you have the props made, but getting the props made? That can take a while.

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You’ll need seventeen double-blank playing cards. These are the playing cards that are
blank on both sides. Next, you’ll need a color printer and computer with a connection to
the Internet. Along with this, you’ll also need blank labels roughly the size of the playing
cards.

Now, you could skip some steps here and print directly to the playing card stock.
Personally, I find that much more difficult that simply printing the pictures to the labels
and sticking the labels to the cards. In some cases, printing on the stock is more desirable,
but in something like this it’s unnecessary – after all, you’re not trying to prove a regular
playing card was irreversibly altered; you’re just showing some pictures. So take the easy
way out here and save the more difficult printing jobs for when they are really needed.

Go online and grab some photos of women or, if you’re not feeling particularly
misogynistic, men. Cheesecake (or, if you’re inclined, beefcake) is what you’re looking
for here – bikini shots, glamour shots, that type of thing. Don’t worry about backgrounds;
those are unimportant. Pick out one you really like – that’s the face and figure of your
victims.

You’ll print four of them out exactly as you get them. These are the victims in their hale
and hardy state. Then, using a graphics package, you’ll make four more images, one from
each of the healthy victims. These four images will be the victims in various states of
dismemberment.

Relax. You have three options here:

1) Harmless. Here, just superimpose the image of a skull and crossbones over the
regular pictures to create a perished victim. No gore, but the message comes
across well enough.
2) A tad gory. In this case, mangle the pictures a bit (think in terms of taking one of
the pictures, cutting it up, and then reassembling the pieces more or less
randomly). Place the text “R.I.P.” in a dripping, bloody script over the image to
complete. Icky, but not that bad.
3) Over the top. Using a good graphics package, copy different body parts from the
regular photos, placing them on the new image so body parts are strewn all over
the card. Using your graphics package, add the necessary gore to the stumps of
limbs, the dissection points of the torso, etc. Gruesome, to be sure, but what else
are you going to do in a routine called “Slasher”? Make paper doilies?

Of course, there are more options, but these three are the best to sell the effect in a
suitable fashion.

When you’ve got the pictures the way you want them, print them out on the labels and
attach them to the blank playing cards. One side down, one to go.

Find a suitable image to use for the back of the cards. I chose to use a picture of the
costume from “Scream”, but done as a negative image. If anything, it looks creepier.

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Don’t be concerned about making and using one-way back designs; in this routine, it’s
not a worry. You’ll put these back designs on all the cards, not just the victim cards.

When you’re finished with all of this, you should have four “healthy victim” cards, which
are the unaltered pictures of those beautiful people, four “dead victim” cards, which
you’ve altered, and nine blank cards.

Stack the cards so that, face up and from the top, the stack looks like this:

- Two “healthy victims”

- One “dead victim”
- One “healthy victim”
- Nine blank cards
- One “healthy victim”
- Three “dead victims”

The last piece of the set-up is simply to shorten all the blank cards. If you prefer, corner
shorts can be used. The reason for the shortening is to allow you to peel the “healthy
victims” away from the blanks at the finale of the routine; any way you feel comfortable
works. Personally, I like corner-shorting myself, but again, it’s up to you. You’ll see what
I mean when you read the madness behind the method.

By the way, if you’re into corner-shorting, ditch the nail clippers. Spend very little money
at any scrapbook store for a “corner-rounder”. These little devices are used on the square
corners of photographs to round them for scrapbook presentations. I picked mine up for
less than USD$5 and it works great.

Anyway…

Put the cards in a wallet or envelope where you can get to them easily and you’re ready to
go.

Performance: The performance of this is very simple.

Retrieve the cards, holding them face up in the left hand. Remove the top four cards
(consisting of two “healthy victims”, one “dead victim”, and another “healthy victim”)
and hold them in the right hand, tabling the left hand packet.

Elmsley Count the four cards in the right hand, showing four “healthy victims”. Turn the
packet face down and deal the four cards in a row on the table from the left to the right.
This puts the one “dead victim” card to the left of the other three “healthy victims”.

Pick up the tabled packet of cards containing the blank cards. Hold them face up in the
left hand. Spread the top eight cards over, showing blanks (and, of course, not showing
the other “victims” at the bottom of the stack). Turn the packet face down. Spread off the

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top three cards, take them from the left hand, and drop them onto the leftmost card on the
table (the “dead victim”).

Spread over the next three cards then square them in the left hand. As you square them
up, add another card to them. To the audience, it will seem as if you’re taking three cards
from the stack, but in reality you’re taking four. Drop this stack on top of card to the right
of the tabled pile.

Spread over three more cards, just as you did the first two times, and drop them onto the
next card in the row. As you do this, very casually flash the faces so the audience sees the
blank cards. Repeat this with the final three cards and the last card in the row.

After all of that, here’s where you stand:

- The first pile consists of four “dead victim” cards.

- The next pile contains five cards: two “healthy victims” and three blanks.
- The third pile contains one “healthy victim” and three blank cards.
- The fourth pile contains one “healthy victim” and three blank cards.

Next up, borrow a weapon. Here’s your perfect chance to be completely ridiculous and
here you go for it. Depending on your spectators, you may be handed anything at all. If
it’s workable, use it! Stay away from anything breakable (of course) and any jewelry
(obviously) because of the slamming at the end. Likewise, avoid any real knives you may
be handed – you don’t want to accidentally puncture your cards (and you probably will
be handed a knife at some point: I’ve been given pocket knives, hunting knives, Italian
stilettos… hey, sometimes I play for rough crowds).

Most likely, you won’t be given anything you’d use, so fall back on the dollar bill. If
you’re skilled in origami (something I consider just as magical as most of the finger-
flinging we do), you can make a cute little sword. If you’re not so skilled – as I am not –
then don’t worry about it: fake it. I actually fold the bill as if I was making a really bad
paper airplane and then do all the gesturing with the “point” of the figure. Believe me, as
nonsensical as this is, you don’t need to go for much realism here.

Once you’ve got your weapon made, you’re ready to get back to the finger-flinging.

Turn the rightmost packet face up, showing the “healthy victim” and the three blank
cards, then turn the packet face down. Push off the top two cards into the right hand,
leaving two cards behind in the left. Using the thumbs and fingers, slide both pairs apart,
basically creating a two-card fan in each hand. Place the right hand cards underneath the
left hand cards. This is a very nice subtlety from John Bannon’s “Twilight Zone
Assembly” which quite openly transfers two cards from the top to the bottom of the
packet but hides itself in the slight flourish.

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Place the packet back on the table. Go Errol Flynn on the packet as in the presentation.
Turn the packet over and perform an Elmsley Count. This will show the packet consisting
now of nothing but the four blank cards. Put this packet over to the side face down.

Pick up the next packet, the one on the right, and turn it face up. Perform an Elmsley
Count. This will show two “healthy victims”. Turn the cards face down and repeat the
subtlety described above to move two cards from the top to the bottom.

Put the packet face down on the table. Make like Paul Bunyan and start sawing away on
the packet just like the presentation directs. Turn the packet over and execute an Elmsley
Count showing four blank cards. Put this packet over to the side face down on top of the
other discarded packet.

Pick up the third packet, again the one on the right. Perform an Elmsley Count, showing
three “healthy victims”. Turn the packet face down. Here, since you’re dealing with an
extra card in the packet, you’ll do something a bit differently. This time, push off the top
two cards into your right hand, as you’ve done before. Buckle the bottom two cards in the
left hand, pushing the top card over. As you do this, fan the two cards in the right hand.
Place these two cards underneath the cards in the left hand and square the packet.
Because you’ve done the flourish twice before, and because you’ve shown the two cards
(really three) in the left hand, the fact you didn’t fan the two cards in the left hand goes
unnoticed.

Put the packet on the table face down. Pretend you’re an extra in “Gladiator” with the
packet. Turn the packet over and Elmsley Count. Again, there’s nothing apparently there
but the four blank cards. Put this packet to the side face down on top of the others.

Last packet and time to go for an Oscar. Here’s your motivation: you’re frustrated and
angry. Remember that big kid that picked on you in the third grade? Take it out on this
packet. Work all that stress out; it’s good for you. Just be sure to not break your table or
jar any of the cards onto the floor, and remember not to accidentally whack a spectator –
unlike the table or the cards, spectators can whack back.

Turn the packet up and show the harmless/gory/over the top pictures, spreading them on
the table.

As the surprise (or shock, if you went over the top) is registering, pick up the discard
packet, holding it in the left hand. Strip the “healthy victims” out and place them on the
bottom of the packet in the left hand, holding a pinkie break above them.

As far as the audience is concerned, the effect is over. The icky pictures (you did opt for
the “over the top” ending, didn’t you?) pretty much tell that tale. At this point, you’re
simply going to begin putting things away.

Stop. Act as if the spectator is having doubts about your sanity (very little acting may be
involved – it’s been my experience the spectator has already made that assumption).

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Perform a Jinx Change with the “dead victims” cards. This is a sweet little change and
works quite well even with a small packet (as opposed to my beloved Curry Turnover,
which doesn’t work here for a variety of reasons). To do the Jinx Change, hold the packet
in the left hand. The “dead victims” are picked up in the right hand, held by the lower
right corner between the thumb on top and the first and second fingers below. Move the
right hand diagonally over the packet, from the lower right corner to the upper left,
picking up all the cards of the packet above the break as you do. In a continuing action,
move the left hand forward and the right hand back. The left hand will hold the four
“healthy victims” while all the others cards are in the right. Put the right hand cards away
as you turn over the cards in the left, spreading them on the table again.

Do not think that the Jinx Change is somehow inappropriate here. Again, as far as the
spectator is concerned, the trick is over and you’re packing up your toys. As an
afterthought, you decide to make things right so the audience doesn’t call the local, state,
or federal authorities on you. At least, that’s the premise you’re operating under.

Deliver the punch line (“It’s only a movie”).

The end.

Lots of crediting here. First, the routine comes from Aldo Colombini’s wonderful “Fly
Cards II” (and if you’re doing “regular” magic instead of my strange mess, there’s no
better packet trick on the market than Colombini’s – it’s a must-have). Ken Krenzel, I
think, was the first to come up with the progressive assembly idea. Lastly, John Bannon’s
absolutely fantastic “Twilight Zone Assembly” from his legendary “Impossibilia” started
me on this road in the first place. Check that one out for sure.

Beyond all of that, there’s Dan Harlan.

Dan made me a fan of his with his astonishingly simple but oh-so-slick “Soul Mates”.
Then I became addicted to Dan’s work with his latest collection of wonderful packet
tricks and card creations. Then, to seal the deal and make me a follower, he published the
delightful idea of routining himself as a maniacal wacko in a coin matrix (in the “Mystery
School” book). After I read that, I had one of those delightfully staggering “duh”
moments and I knew I wanted to pull off the same thing. But Dan is Dan, me is me, and I
gotta put me into my work or it’s, well, just work. But God! I loved that idea.

Kinda like I love my horror movies. So, courtesy of Colombini and Harlan and Fuci and
Romero and Argento (both of ‘em) and Carpenter, came this routine.

I hope it serves you as well as it has me.

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Personal note time: although I have given three ways of setting up the climax, I only go
over the top myself. I could give you all sorts of artsy explanations for why I do this, but
the simple answer – and the shortest – is that is what my audiences expect from me. They
expect strangeness, not cuteness; if I did this with the “harmless” version, it would fail.
Big time. It would come across, if I did it, as cute. Ick. Your mileage, of course, may
vary, but consider going for the gold and taking the risk; you might like the results.

Roll ‘em! Action!

Have fun!

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Carny Days
During which it is seen those who forget the past never get a glimpse at their futures
from Zoltar.

“One of the charming bits of Americana I miss belongs to the midway of small fairs and
carnivals. Now when we hear the word ‘carnival’, we picture rows of rip-off games, stalls
selling cheap things for un-cheap prices, and unbelievably greasy food. But there was a
time when there was much more to a carnival than that. There were geeks and freaks and
performers of all types. There was a sense of wonder to the whole place, even in the
penny arcade.

“The penny arcade was what I liked the most. Small claw machines, little prize
giveaways courtesy of devices that were barely disguised slot machines… those struck
my fancy and I all but lived under that canvas tent. But the one thing I loved more than
anything else looked something like this:”

The performer brings out a cloth bag. Opening it, the performer withdraws the contents: a
large plastic model of a fortune-telling machine.

“I’ll grant you this doesn’t look like much. But in the eyes of a precocious seven year old,
this wooden wizard who, when asked a question, waved his hand over the crystal ball
which glowed eerily and then produced a prediction based on that question… well, it was
something else. Forget the Tilt-A-Whirl or the corn dogs: I was hooked entirely on my
mechanical fortuneteller!

“I still am, truthfully. That’s why this little toy is so special to me. It reminds me of those
days when I found magic everywhere, even in answers to my future given in pre-
packaged phrases and interpreted by my own intuition… as long as they came from my
wizard.

“Because they were right. Don’t believe me? I don’t blame you. Ask the fortuneteller a
question about your future. Go ahead. You’ll see what I mean.”

The spectator asks a question. After a bit, the little toy goes into action. The crystal ball
lights up, strange noises come from it, and finally the little electronic wizard answers the
question in the expected “The future seems cloudy” manner.

“And there you have it! The fortuneteller has spoken and you know what the future
holds!”

The performer, never one to overlook even the subtlest nuances of human behavior,
notices the reaction of the spectator.

“I’m not one to overlook even the subtlest nuances of human behavior, so I notice your
reaction. You don’t believe it, do you?” The spectator assures the performer she does not.

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“It’s okay; I get that a lot. That’s why I came prepared. And because, well, I enjoy seeing
the mechanical fortuneteller in action.

“Let’s start with something simple.”

The performer reaches into the bag and pulls out three identical matchboxes. These are
placed in a row on the table.

“Now, do you have a dollar bill? Great!”

The performer picks up the toy, turning his back to the spectator.

“Here’s what I want you to do: just fold the dollar bill up and put it into any of the three
matchboxes, then close the matchbox so no one can see the dollar bill. Let me know
when you’ve done it.”

The spectator does as she is asked.

“Now, I’ll warn you beforehand, I’m going to try to confuse you here, so just bear with
me. First, do you remember which matchbox you put the dollar bill in? Of course you do.
Now, switch the positions of the two matchboxes you didn’t put the dollar in. Let me
know when you’ve done that.”

The spectator acknowledges she has completed the daunting task.

“Next, switch the matchboxes on the left and the right. Let me know when you’ve done
it.”

And so it goes, with the performer calling out positions of the matchboxes quickly and
randomly and the spectator, just as quickly, moving them about.

“Okay, stop.” The performer turns back around.

“Do you know which matchbox holds your dollar? You don’t? Excellent! This way you
can’t give me any clues whatsoever since you’re as confused as I am. So now all we can
do is ask this little fortuneteller.

“Oh great fortuneteller, oh teller of great fortunes, will I be able to locate the matchbox
with the dollar bill in it?”

The little fortuneteller’s crystal ball lights up, strange noises sound from it. Finally, the
fortuneteller speaks: “The signs say ‘no’.”

“No? Well, that sounds like a given, doesn’t it? Three matchboxes, one dollar bill, a one
in three chance of being right, a two in three chance of being wrong. But what the

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fortuneteller tells me is that I shouldn’t try to find the matchbox holding the dollar bill; I
should try to find which matchboxes don’t hold the dollar bill!”

The performer waves his hand over the matchboxes, eventually pushing two of the
matchboxes toward the spectator. “Those two boxes are empty. This other one, then has
the dollar bill.” The spectator opens the two matchboxes; they are indeed empty. The
third matchbox is opened, revealing the dollar bill.

“The fortuneteller did it! He said I wouldn’t be able to find the matchbox with the bill,
and he was right: but I found the two without it!”

The spectator is skeptical. “I know. It’s the same result, but you’ll find that the
fortuneteller’s answers your questions exactly but they are open for a bit of interpretation.

“Let’s try another one. This time let’s see what happens when you ask the question.”

The performer brings out a stack of business cards and a marker, asking the spectator to
sign her name to the back of one. The cards are placed face down on the table and spread
around, mixed up horribly and messily.

“Do you know which one has your signature on it? Me either. We’re off to a fine start.

“Now, ask the fortuneteller about your card. Ask it if you’ll be able to locate your
signature.”

The spectator does so. The lights flash, the sounds, and the fortunetelling toy ominously
says, “The answer is ‘yes’.”

“Well! It looks like you’ll be able to do this! Congratulations! Oh, the congratulations are
not premature: the fortuneteller has spoken!”

The performer grins a bit. “But I’ll try to prove the fortuneteller wrong. I hope you don’t
mind, but let’s make this a real test of his abilities!

“Point to two of the business cards. Keep your fingers on them. Now, you picked two of
the business cards but I’m going to remove one of them. If, in fact, one of those cards had
your signature, then I may have removed it from the pile. Now, I’ll pick two, and you
pick one to remove. That one? Now you see how this is going to be more difficult for you
to get right: I may have picked your signature, too, and you may have made a mistake
and removed it. So, by doing this, you’re not going to just have to find your signature
once – and that once a mystery! – but perhaps several times!

“Let’s keep going! Pick two more!”

The process is repeated, back and forth, until there is only one business card left on the
table.

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“You had asked the fortuneteller if you would find your signature. The fortuneteller said
you would. Turn the card over.” The remaining card, found despite your making it more
difficult, has the spectator’s signature. “You found it! You did something against the
odds, but the fortuneteller knew you would – again!”

Everything is put away except for the plastic oracle.

“One last test, and this time we’ll really stack the odds.”

The performer brings a deck of playing cards out of the bag. “Before, the fortuneteller
has predicted the outcome twice, but, while the odds were sizable, they were not large.”
The cards are fanned out, showing the faces different. “Now, with this, the odds are
large!”

The cards are turned face down and mixed all over the table. The spectator is invited to
mix them up as well. The cards are squared and placed in front of the spectator.

“Please cut the deck. They don’t have to be equal – they just need to be in piles.” The
spectator cuts the deck into four piles.

“Now pick any of the piles. Look at the top card. Don’t forget it, because that last card –
one of 52 – is the answer to this last test for the fortuneteller.”

The card is returned to the pile, the deck reassembled, and mixed up by the spectator and
then put back in order. The performer shuffles the deck and spreads it face down on the
table.

“Now, let’s really challenge the fortuneteller… Oh powerful wizard of plastic, will you
locate the chosen card?”

Silence. No lights flashing. No sounds from its tiny speaker. No voice.

“I think we insulted him.”

More silence. No lights flashing. No sounds from its tiny speaker. No voice. Still.

“No, I think we plain pissed him off. But let’s try him out anyway and just take his
silence as a ‘yes’.” The toy is placed on one end of the spread. The spectator is told to
pick up the toy and put it down anywhere on the cards. She does so. The cards are spread
out a bit, and the spectator again places the toy onto the cards. The one card is turned
over: it is the selected card.

“Three for three! The fortuneteller did it!

“Or did he? Actually, he never made a prediction about that event. He just kept his little
plastic and electronic mouth shut.” The toy is put aside.

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“So maybe he didn’t know he’d find it. I wish there was someway we could know he
knew your card, but…” The spectator begins laughing and pointing at the toy. On the
base of the little plastic fortuneteller sits a miniature copy of the selected card.

“Well, I guess now we know. He found your card and knew what your card was! What
do you make of the fortuneteller now… want to ask it anything else?”

I can see you turning the page at this point. Don’t. There’s a reason for including this, a
routine I have a great time doing and which spectators get a kick out of seeing, even
though it’s not strictly a story or bizarre or weird or even strange. So hang loose, cut me a
bit of slack on this one, and I promise I’ll make it up to you.

Promise.

For now, let’s look at this. Strictly speaking, it’s three separate effects, each building in
apparent complexity and impossibility. The plastic fortuneteller, an electronic version of
a Magic Eight-Ball, is the macguffin and comes courtesy of Toys ‘R’ Us for about
USD$20 (you can also find them online here and there for about the same price). It adds a
delightful level of cuteness to the proceedings and is a neat thing in its own right,
allowing both you and the spectator to “take it on” without being adversarial yourselves.
It’s you and the spectator against a piece of plastic, some silicon, and a couple of
batteries, and that can be fun.

Set-up: Okay, let’s get the grocery list together:

• One plastic fortuneteller, with batteries, and in good working order.

• Three empty cardboard matchboxes.
• A stack of thirteen business cards.
• A marker, preferably with black ink.
• A Svengali deck (not a “Mirage” deck – you don’t want a rough/smooth thing
here).
• A miniature of the force card from the Svengali deck to attach to the underside of
the toy.

There’s also a bit of preparation here, but it’s none to difficult.

First, the business cards. All of the cards are identical, with the exception of one that is
marked. Now, the usual method of marking that odd card is to print a slightly different
address (usually the zip code is changed) or a slightly different email address or some
such nonsense.

Sorry, but it really is nonsense.

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Look, if I’m doing something with my business cards, I want the business card to contain
the correct and useful information in case the business card ends up in a spectator’s
wallet or purse. If that spectator tries to contact me about a performance, i.e. a
moneymaking opportunity for me, I don’t want them calling a bad number or sending an
email to a bogus address (or a re-routed one; I don’t want a chance of missing that
contact or worry about juggling the mail accounts in my email profiles so I don’t respond
from a different address and look like a moron).

So what’s the big deal about an extra space?

Yep. That’s the secret, hidden-in-the-open mark I use: I place an extra space between the
area code of my phone number and the exchange, so the line looks like this:

(000)<two spaces>000-0000

The other cards have the number printed like this:

(000)<one space>000-0000

This way, the contact information stays the same but the cards are decidedly different.
However, that decided difference is strictly for your eyes only; spectators will not notice
the difference though, looking for it, it will stand out like a sore thumb to you. Put this
card on the bottom of the stack and put a rubber band around the cards so they are easy to
handle.

The next thing you’re going to make is a special deck of cards. As luck would have it, the
fact the deck is a Svengali deck takes the hard work away from you (if you don’t use a
Svengali deck, you’d have to make one and what fun would that be?), so you’re left with
the simple task of taking a matching marker and marking the force cards in the Svengali
deck. For this task, I use a red-backed, Bicycle Svengali deck and a red Sharpee.

Using an idea from David Regal (I’m really understating that here since this idea is a
wonderfully brilliant, wonderfully bold idea and I love it), fill in the center white dot on
the back of the shortened force cards of the deck with your marker.

Don’t panic here. Like the business cards before, this mark goes completely past the
spectators. They don’t look for it, they don’t see it; you look for it, and it’s a bright red
neon sign so glaring and glowing you almost have to wear sunglasses to keep from being
blinded by it. Yes, that is hyperbole. But it’s based in truth: you’ll always see it and no
one else will.

Once the force cards are marked and dry and ready to go, don’t worry about putting them
back into their exact, original alternating order. You’re not going to use the standard
Svengali force – though technically you could – so it’s not necessary. Just riffle them
together and put the deck in the case.

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Next up: the matchboxes. Mark one of the matchboxes very subtly. I put a nail knick in
the box sleeve on both ends and both sides. Anything will work that you can see easily
(and the spectator cannot).

The last thing: tape the miniature card to the bottom of the toy fortuneteller.

That’s it (he said, minimizing the toil). Now just put everything into the cloth bag and
you’re ready to go.

Method: To make this easier, let’s break this down into the three core effects.

Phase One: The Matchboxes

Credits first. This is a mathematical piece I’m sure has been around a while though I
discovered it in Jon Jensen’s superb manuscript “Monte, Too” (this manuscript, by the
way, is literally packed with wonderful ideas on the monte theme using anything but
playing cards – talk about thinking outside the box). The neatest thing about this is that it
doesn’t seem to rely on a mathematical principle at all.

It is, however, a bit tricky to explain, so expect me to be a little more verbose than usual
here. Be assured the actual working is very quick and very simple – a time or two and
you’ll scarcely have to think about the working.

Bring out the bag, open it, and remove the toy. Stand it in front of you as you go on with
the presentation, letting them ask a question, etc. When the time comes, remove the three
matchboxes from the bag. Lay them in a row on the table, with the marked matchbox in
the middle. Think of the three matchboxes as being in a row from your left to your right
and occupying positions #1, #2, and #3, with the marked matchbox in position #2.

Turn your back to the spectator. Have the spectator put a dollar bill (yours or theirs if
they’re strapped for cash at the moment) in any of the boxes they wish. Instruct them to
switch the two matchboxes they did not put the bill in.

From this point on, you’re going to simply keep track of the matchbox in position #2 (the
original position occupied by the marked matchbox). Doing this is very simple: use your
hand. Think of the index finger as position #1, your middle finger as position #2, and
your ring finger as position #3. Use your thumb as an indicator of where the current box
in position #2 goes, touching the finger corresponding to its position, as you tell the
spectator to switch boxes.

Confused? Don’t be. An example will help clear this up.

You start with your thumb touching the middle finger (the finger representing position
#2). Let’s suppose that you tell the spectator to now switch the boxes at positions #1 and
#3 (“Switch the two matchboxes on the end” – never refer to the numerical positions).
Since you didn’t move the box at position #2, you don’t move your thumb. Next, though,

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you have the spectator switch the matchboxes at positions #1 and #2 (“Now switch the
matchbox on your right with the one in the middle”), so you move your thumb to the
index finger (the finger representing position #1). The third move has the spectator
switching the matchboxes in position #1 and #3. Since your thumb is on the index finger
(position #1), you would now move your thumb to the ring finger (representing position
#3).

The thing to remember is that if you switch a box at the position you’re tracking with
your thumb, then move your thumb to that new position. It really is quite simple.

Again, in all of this switching, never refer to position numbers. These are not in your
spectator’s frame of reference (they could be – Jon’s original routine had business cards
numbered to make things easier for the spectator – but I haven’t seen where this is
necessary). Refer to the boxes as “the one on your left”, “the one on the right”, and “the
one in the middle”; that will be good enough.

Okay, so after you’ve confused the spectator (and apparently yourself), turn back around.
Don’t immediately look at the matchboxes; look at the spectator instead and continue
with the presentation. Casually glance down at the boxes and see what position the
marked matchbox is in and note which finger your thumb is touching (the position you’ve
been tracking).

Here’s where the logic comes in:

• If the matchbox at the position indicated by your thumb is the marked matchbox,
then the bill is inside the marked matchbox.
• If the matchbox at the position indicated by your thumb is not the marked
matchbox, then you know that the bill is not in the marked matchbox and you
know the bill is not in the matchbox at the position indicated; that leaves the bill
in the unmarked matchbox which is not in the indicated position.

Here’s a short example:

The spectator has put the bill in a matchbox and switched the two empty boxes. You have
your back turned and your thumb is on the middle finger.

You have the spectator switch the boxes on her left and in the middle. This switch
involves moving the box at position #2 (which your thumb indicates by touching the
middle finger), so you move your thumb from the middle finger to the ring finger
(mimicking the move of the box at position #2 to position #3).

You have the spectator switch the boxes in the middle and to her right. Since this move
doesn’t involve position #3, you don’t move your thumb at all.

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Next the spectator switches the boxes on the ends. This move involves position #3
(tracked with your thumb on your ring finger), so move your thumb from your ring finger
to your index finger (which represents position #1).

Turn around and, after a moment, look at the boxes. Remember that your finger stopped
at position #1.

If the marked box is in position #1, it matches your tracked position: the bill is in the box
in position #1.

If the marked box is not in position #2, then you know the dollar bill is not in that box.
Look and see where the marked box is; the bill is not there either. You have eliminated
two boxes – the marked box and the box at the position you’ve tracked – leaving the bill
in the remaining box.

I hesitate to say that’s all there is to it, but that’s the truth. And it really is quite simple
once you’ve done it a time or two.

To reveal the matchbox, well, you don’t do it: the toy does. More accurately the toy
dictates the manner of the revelation.

Ask the toy “Will I find the matchbox with the dollar bill in it?” and the rest is simple
enough: if the toy responds positively, then reveal straightaway the matchbox holding the
bill; if the toy responds negatively, then reveal the empty boxes and thereby reveal which
one holds the bill; if the toy is particularly wishy-washy (“The future is unclear; ask
again”) then ask again.

With the revelation out of the way, it’s time to go to the next effect. Put away the
matchboxes, give back the bill, and bring out the business cards and marker.

Phase Two: The Business Cards

Remove the rubber band from the business cards. Show the face of the business cards
briefly (no move here, no spreading; just let the spectator see they really are business
cards). Turn the stack face down, which puts the blank back of the marked playing card
on top. Give the marker and the stack of playing cards to the spectator, and direct them to
sign the card. If you’re leery about this, make a small “x” and a line on the card before
giving it to the spectator (which all but commands them to sign on that card).

Have the spectator turn the stack over and spread the cards all over the table. Help them
mix them up by sliding them on the table. In short, make a mess of the cards. Follow the
presentation, asking the little toy again.

Now, begin the PATEO force. Yes, I know. It’s a terrible force. Nobody likes it. It’s
contrived. It also works if there’s a proper premise. The pseudo-challenge here seems to
work well enough.

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If you’re not familiar with the PATEO (“Point At Two Eliminate One”) force, here’s how
you use it here:

You have thirteen business cards on the table. Point to any two that are not the marked –
and signed – business card. Ask the spectator to point to one of those two to remove. Set
this card chosen by the spectator aside. Now have the spectator point to two cards and
you choose one to set aside. If either of the two cards the spectator picks is your marked
card, simply pick the other card.

Repeat this back and forth process until one card remains. Naturally, that one card will be
the marked card.

Reveal the signed card as with the first effect, that is, making the toy correct yet again.

Put the marker and business cards back into the bag, quietly leave the signed business
card with the spectator (do not, pretty please, say anything insipid like “Keep that as a
souvenir”; it’s not a souvenir – it’s a cheap business card with her signature on it and
stooping to calling it a memento or anything else similar to it makes you a schmuck, a
very cheap schmuck), and pull out the deck in preparation for the climax.

Phase Three: The Playing Cards

Spread the deck all over the table, just as you did the business cards – loose and messy.
Have the spectator help you scramble the cards about. Square the deck back up.

It’s at this point I have to lay claim to having fibbed during the presentation and fibbed
most extravagantly. What looks reasonably straightforward is actually a quite hidden
magician’s choice to force a card.

Begin by having the spectator cut the deck. If the top card is marked – the center dot is
filled in – then stop right there. Pick up the pile cut off the deck, glimpsing the bottom
card. If it’s not a duplicate force card, just quietly turn your hand over, exposing the card,
and motion to the card the spectator cut to as their chosen card.

If, on the other hand, the card cut to by the spectator is not marked, then ask them to cut
either one of the piles again. At this point you would have three piles. Now it’s time to
freestyle a bit. Look at all the top cards of the piles, looking for your marks. If you have
more marked cards on top of the piles than unmarked cards, stop the cutting with the
three piles. Have the spectator point to two of the three piles. If both of these piles have
marked cards on top, pick up the unselected pile, then asked the spectator to point to
either of the two piles left and pick it up as well. Ask the spectator to look at the top card,
the force card. If the unselected pile has a marked card on top, leave it, pick up the two
piles the spectator selected, and have the spectator look at the top card of that unselected
pile.

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If, after cutting three piles, there are more unmarked cards on top of the piles than marked
cards, then have the spectator cut one of the piles again. Once again, use the same logic to
force one of the piles on the spectator with the marked card on top.

Now, while going through this selection process, you’re picking up certain piles as they
are discarded (mandated by the “magician’s choice”). Casually shuffle these cards in an
overhand shuffle, holding the cards loosely by the ends. The result? The stripped force
cards fall of their own accord into the hand before the non-force cards. Will this happen
perfectly? No, some cards will hang and not fall with the other force cards. But you don’t
have to have them separate so perfectly; just have the majority of them separate.

After the selection is finally made, have the spectator put their card back on top of the
pile, place the deck on top of them, and mix them all around on the table again, getting
the spectator to help you.

Wait a second. Did we just take the time and trouble to separate the force cards from the
non-forced cards, just to mix the hell out of them again?

Yes, we did.

You see, the mixing on the table thing looks very messy, very sloppy, and very random.
And it is. Except for one thing: unless the cards are spread widely, that is, covering a
large area, the cards stay arranged in small blocks. That’s why dealers in casino poker
rooms mix the cards within a three-foot area, gather them up, and then riffle shuffle to
ensure they are well mixed: simply mixing them up is not a good enough measure of a
random mix (it’s closer to the seven riffle shuffles mathematicians say we need for a fair
game of cards).

As it is, you’re doing this is a smaller area most likely, and all the mixing is really more
of a pushing. And a lot of the cards stay clumped together. Which makes the next step
more productive.

After mixing them about for a while, gather them up in your hands, squared. Overhand
shuffle as before, again letting the stripped force cards fall first by holding the cards
loosely. Repeat the shuffle. After this, all of the stripped cards will be on the bottom of
the deck (minus, perhaps, one or two strays).

Cut the deck, but cut only the topmost non-forced cards to the bottom of the deck. This
dozen or so cards basically stacks the deck so the top quarter of the deck is made of
regular cards, the middle half is your force cards, and the bottom quarter is more of the
regular cards.

Hold the deck in the right hand, thumb at the inner short edge and fingers at the outer
edge, in preparation for ribbon-spreading the deck. With the thumb, press down on the
edge of the regular cards at the bottom of the deck and press up on the edge of the regular
cards on the top of the deck. This results in a very slight break above the bottom regular

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cards and below the top regular cards. There is a bit of a knack to this, so use the left
hand to stabilize the deck in the meantime as you get the breaks.

Now, spread the cards in a ribbon-spread. Because of the two breaks, the regular cards
will not spread as far as the stripped cards, but at the same time not be so obviously
grouped together.

Pick up the toy and, as you do, turn it off. The switch is very easy to move and hidden on
the back; no one will notice. Hand it to the spectator. Have them place it anywhere they
want on the spread.

A few things can happen here:

• The spectator puts the toy onto the middle of the spread that consists of the force
cards. This is the ideal situation and happens the most frequently by far. Pull these
cards out of the spread.
• The spectator puts the toy onto the cards so that some of the cards are the force
cards and some are regular cards. In this case, lift the toy carefully and apparently
break the spread cleanly at this point. In reality, break the spread and take more of
the regular cards away, leaving behind more of the force cards, creating a small
spread of cards with nothing but force cards.
• The spectator puts the toy directly on the top packet of regular cards or on the
bottom packet of regular cards. I’ve only had this happen once -- it is an
extremely rare occurence. If it does happen, lay it off on the toy. Ask it “Is that
where you think the card is?” Naturally, the toy is mute. Have the spectator
replace it somewhere else (which will be more toward the center of the spread)
and ask the question again. When the toy doesn’t respond this time, comment,
“Well, if he wants to be like that, then that is where we’ll leave him” and move on
as above.

When the initial selection of cards has been made, you’ll be left with a small group of
cards, about a half dozen, all of which are force cards. Spread them cleanly, gathering up
the other cards. Without calling attention to them, cut the cards so that all the regular
cards are together on the bottom of the facedown deck.

Turn the deck face-up, spreading the first few cards, showing them all different,
commenting about all the cards the toy rejected. Turn the deck facedown, give them an
overhand shuffle, and spread the first few cards off the deck, spreading them, and
showing the faces to the spectator as more cards the toy didn’t pick.

Set the deck aside. Have the spectator put the toy on any one of the cards. Pick up the toy,
have the spectator take the card, and, as they show it, pick up the remaining cards and
place them on the deck.

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Put the toy down, on it’s back, with the base pointing toward the spectator. Wait for it,
because the spectator will eventually look at the toy and see, staring her in the face, the
miniature card which proves the toy knows what it is talking about.
The end.

Lots of explanation for a fun little routine, but most of the words covers three different
effects. So I went into a lot of detail with those.

Why?

Because all three of them can be used in different ways to convey different themes,
different emotions, different modes of theatrical presentation. If you reject the routine as
childish – not child-like – then perhaps those pieces will serve you in a better stead in
another routine of your own, another clothing of your own.

Like they do me.

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Something Special
Where it is seen the more things change, the more things change

“Would you like to see something special? I don’t think it’s anything you’ve seen
before.”

A small jewelry box is opened and a strange piece of jewelry taken from it.

“This was given to me by a good friend, who unfortunately passed away right after
sending it to me. Knowing Gene, this could be anything from an ancient relic he
stumbled across in his travels or a hunk of junk he picked up at a yard sale. I wish he had
told me more about it, though, because, well, since I’ve had it strange things happen. Not
necessarily bad things, but definitely strange things.

“Let me show you what I mean.”

Three business cards are shown and placed face down in a row on the table. The spectator
is given a pen.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to turn my back for a moment.” The performer turns
away from the business cards.

“If you would, just sign the back of any one of the business cards on the table. It doesn’t
matter which one. Let me know when you’re done. Great! Next, turn all three business
cards over so I can’t tell which one you signed. Just tell me when you’ve done that.
Excellent!

“Now here’s where things get a little weird. Just trust me, though: there’s a reason for it.
Do you remember which card you signed? Of course you do. Well, what I want you to do
is switch the positions of the two business cards you didn’t sign. That’s a little confusing,
so let me know when you’ve done that or if I’m not being clear. Got it? Great! Thank
you.

“Now I’m really going to confuse you. Ready?” The performer then has the spectator
move the cards around at random, switching two cards each time. This is done several
times.

“I’m going to turn around, so make sure the business cards are still on the table so I can’t
see which one your signature is on. Is everything okay? Good!” The performer turns
around.

“I know you think I’ve lost it, what with all the swapping and switching and mixing I had
you do, but there’s a reason for it. I wanted to make sure you were as unsure about which
card you signed as I am. That way, there’s no way I could, say, read your body language
and know which one you signed since you aren’t completely sure which card it is. I hope
I confused you enough but not too much.

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“Now comes the weird part.”

The performer holds the jewelry in a closed fist, looking the spectator in the eye,
emotionless, concentrating. Then the performer grins a bit, looks at the business cards,
and turns over the one with the spectator’s signature.

“Is that not strange? And if we went through all of that a hundred times, a hundred times
I’d be able to find your signature. No, there’s no trick, at least that I understand. But
don’t take my word for it – you can do it, too. Care to try? Great!”

The performer puts away the signed business card and brings out some more.

“I hope you don’t mind if I make it a bit more difficult for you and up the odds a bit.”

One of the business cards is given to the spectator. “This time, write something about
yourself. No, not your phone number or anything like that. Your favorite color, maybe.
Or your favorite song? Some little something personal about you. No, it doesn’t matter if
I see it… this time around you’re going to find it, not me.”

The spectator writes her favorite color on the back of the business card.

“Here’s the fun part.” The other business cards are spread on the table, and mixed around.
The spectator is invited to mix them up as well. “Do you know which one you wrote on?
Me either.

“Now comes the weird part. Here, hold this in your hand. Neither of us knows where the
card you wrote on is, right? And I’m going to make it more complicated for you – instead
of trying to find that card once, you’re going to have to do it over and over again. What
I’m going to do it simple: I’m going to point to two of the cards and you’re going to think
about your favorite color, something that color maybe, and then point to one of the cards
and then I’ll put that one away. Like this:”

The performer points to two of the cards. The spectator thinks for a moment, the selects
one of the cards. The performer puts it to the side.

“Now, it’s your turn. Think about your color. Think of something that color. Point to two
of the business cards, any two, and I’ll pick one for you to set aside.”

The spectator does so, and the business card set aside. This is repeated until there is a
single business card left.

“Now, we mixed them up really well, then I tried my best to keep you from finding the
business card you wrote your favorite color on. But, you see, you’re holding the jewelry
and, because you’re holding it and because you were thinking so hard about your color,
well, turn over the one business card left: I know you found it.”

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The spectator turns over the remaining business card. It is the one the spectator wrote on.

“Like I told you, it’s just weird how that happens!

“But it gets weirder still.”

The performer puts away all the business cards but one. Taking the jewelry back, the
performer gives the spectator the business card.

“This time, well, I think you’ll be a little astonished by this. What I want you to do is
write a word or two here, on this business card. Maybe the name of someone you care
about, or you’re worried about… someone who means something to you. Or perhaps a
date that means something to you, like an anniversary or birthday. Something like that.
Then, once you’ve got it written, just fold the business card so I can’t see what you’ve
written.”

The performer turns away as the spectator writes something on the card. Turning back
around, the performer places the jewelry on the table and picks up the business card to
sharpen the creases so there’s no way to see what’s inside, placing it on the table away
from the jewelry.

“Let’s both just put our fingertips on this, just like that, that’s perfect. Now, think about
what you wrote. Try to visualize it somehow, like in a movie, not a photograph. See what
you wrote as something moving, something acting…”

The performer looks at the spectator’s eyes, concentrating, saying something under the
breath as thoughts go to and fro. The concentration becomes deeper, deeper… finally the
performer stops, grins a bit, and asks the spectator who “Donald” is.

The spectator says it’s her husband, and also the name written on the business card.

The performer puts away the jewelry.

“I told you it was weird, strange. And sometimes I think that this is only the beginning of
what Gene’s little gift can do.”

Look familiar? Yep, this is basically the impromptu version of the previous effect,
“Carny Days”. In fact, this routine spawned that one as I sought something a bit fun to
play with.

And this one was spawned at a bar. Here’s how it went down.

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I was at a bar, nursing a beer, when a woman sitting next to me noticed a rather
distinctive ring I wear. She wanted to know where I got it, because it is quite unusual.
Having been drinking my current beer’s brother not too long before, I was feeling a bit
frisky.

“Well, it’s a strange thing, actually,” I began. And I began this routine at the same time.

The methods are probably obvious, so I won’t go into a ton of detail here. The first effect
is the first phase of “Carny Days”, sans the matchboxes. When I first did this, I had asked
for three paper matchbooks (my thinking was that the spectator could write her name on
the inside, close the matchbook, and I could go from there, simply nail-nicking one of the
matchbooks) but there were none around. So I nicked one of my business cards and went
from there. My thinking is that, still, the matchbooks would have been perfect and
preferred, but I got so used to doing it this way I seldom worry with matchbooks
anymore.

The second effect here is the PATEO force again, and again from “Carny Days”. Have
nail-nick, will travel, it seems, since a nail-nick is again used to mark the business card.

The last effect? That’s a billet peek. I actually swear by Docc Hilford’s “Dance of
Shiva”. That technique, like most techniques using peeks, is an art and science all it’s
own and there’s no way I could do justice to any of them here. Check out Hilford’s
“Dance” or any of the other wonderful resources on billet peeks out there.

A word on the progression of events here. When I first did it, as I do it now, this routine
is obviously leading to a cold reading. This is not something you have to do, of course,
and unless you’re skilled at the art, I’d advise you to not even attempt it. It doesn’t bring
any great loss to the routine to simply end on the revelation and, in some situations, it’s
even preferred to leave the cold reading off entirely anyway.

But…

The routine is scaled so that the level of personal information increases slightly for each
effect, allowing the spectator to be a bit more open as she goes through the effects. First,
she’s asked for her signature, a very personal thing that is, basically, her identity.
Secondly, she’s asked for something that sets her apart from other people, something
seemingly trivial but which causes her to think of that personal something. Last, she’s
asked to give us a glimpse of what makes her completely special.

By that time, if a cold-reading is done, the spectator is primed to be a bit more open, a bit
more honest, and, courtesy of the little artifact, a little less skeptical.

About that artifact…

It can be anything. As I said, I used my ring. I have at times used a nocturnal, a small
charm of an angel, and a simple necklace. There’s no need in being off the wall here and

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using a crystal skull or a human tibia or the like. Something simple, something with a bit
of history (real or imagined) and you’re good to go.

Man, I love how adaptable magic is!

Not to mention compact when need be.

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The Night + Mare

Wherein it is seen the soothing statement “It’s only a dream” is a big fat lie.

“Do you have nightmares? Every once in a while? Most people do. But like a lot that
happens in our nightly dream-worlds, there’s little we know about them. I do know the
most important thing: I know where nightmares come from. Do you?

“Oh, I’m not talking about nightmares caused by a couple of slices of Hawaiian pizza
right before bedtime, or the nightmares that come with worrying about your job, or even
those that arrive because we’ve managed to get ourselves bent into a semi-pretzel shape
during our sleep.

“I’m talking about those nightmares where, well, there’s someone there, someone we
don’t know and, for some reason, we wake up nervous, anxious, troubled. You know the
ones I’m talking about: the real nightmares that leave us physically drained and
emotionally exhausted the next day, or the next few days. Or longer.”

A small crystal is shown, along with some business cards.

“With your permission, I’ll show you what causes those nightmares using these.”

The crystal is held up in front of the spectator.

“Look through the crystal. Do you see anything? That’s a trick question: there’s nothing
there to see. Just continue to look for a moment and let me know if you see anything.

“Do you know where the word ‘nightmare’ comes from? It’s from the old English
combination of two words: ‘night’ and ‘mare’. Translated, a ‘night mare’ is a fiend, a
demon, which comes at night to cause trouble in your sleep. Think about a nightmare you
had, one that ruined not just your night but also your day, one where you saw that dark,
shadowy figure. Perhaps it was just out of sight in your nightmare. Maybe it was standing
in front of you. But remember that nightmare as best you can. Remember that dark
shadow as best you can.”

After a moment, the spectator gasps, saying she can see the shadowy figure inside the
crystal.

“That’s the figure you saw, that’s the shade which follows you in your dreams. That’s
your night mare, your demon that comes at night.”

The back of a business card is held up to the crystal. The figure inside, black and
ominous, is clearly seen.

“I wish I could tell you I’d keep your demon here so it would never both you again. But I
can’t. It’s beyond my power. It may be beyond yours. At least, though, you can try to
contain it.”

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The crystal is moved away from the business card. Slowly, the figure is seen to vanish
from the crystal.

“Maybe if you see a piece of it, a small part of your demon, it will remind you to try to
control it.”

The business card, previously blank, now shows a faint shadow on it, a dark remainder of
the shadowy figure.

“Here’s the shadow of your fiend. Maybe it will help you. And maybe your sleep will be
a bit easier if you remember the true cause of your nightmares.

“Good luck.”

Credits first and foremost. The legendary Larry White posed the idea of taking a
spectator’s nightmare in a stage setting, duplicating the ominous thing in light of ancient
concepts of the true cause of nightmares. Larry had a fantastic ending – giving the
nightmare back to the spectators with an ominous thought that the horrible nightmare
they just saw belongs to one of them; a truly horrific thing – but for most of my venues, it
wouldn’t play well at all because my audiences are much smaller than a stage setting
would allow. Throw in the inevitable talking my spectators do, and I was afraid the whole
thing, dramatic though it was, would fall apart.

But I could not shake the premise; it’s too good to even try to throw off.

So I started playing, and this routine was my end result.

The crystal thing is an idea I learned from Sam Dalal’s “Swami/Mantra” hardcover
collection. Sam has a simple version of the cube, which was taken to the next level in a
later issue of “Mantra” by Roy Fromer. There, Roy used it for a card revelation; here I
use it for a bit of very visual creepiness. That’s about the only thing I bring to the table;
the clever construction belongs to Roy.

So let’s get into the working of this little gem.

Set-up: For this, you’ll need very little (and you thought I owned stock in your local
stationery store).

First up, you’ll need two prisms, both the same size. Don’t worry about getting more
expensive glass prisms – go cheap and get two small acrylic ones. You can find these
online or at your local science supply shop. I bought my 25mm prisms for about $10 at an
online place that sells supplies for school experiments. You’ll also need some electrical
tape and glue.
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Needless to say, you’ll also need a little shadowy figure. Mine I drew freehand in a paint
program, blurred it a bit, and twisted and stretched it until it was about ¾” long. Think in
terms of an ominous little stick figure and you’ll be okay. Cut around the little figure so
no paper shows on the edges.

Now, to assemble the crystal, glue the little figure to the deeper side of one of the prisms.
Put the other prism on top, sandwiching the figure between the two deep sides of the
prisms. Put the electrical tape on all the long edges of your prisms/crystal rectangle.
Cover the ends with electrical tape as well. The goal here is to make this look like a
rectangular crystal; that means covering the seams.

For all of that work, what do you get? You get a crystal that, when viewed one way looks
clear but, when rotated allows the image trapped between the two prisms to come into
view quite eerily.

Next up, the figure on the business card. To do that, take the image you used inside the
prisms, blur it so much it’s only vaguely human in shape, and print it on the back of on of
your business cards.

Put the new crystal in your pocket, along with a small stack of your business cards with
the specially printed card on top, and you’re ready to go.

Method: Bring out the crystal and the business cards. When you get to the point in the
presentation where you’re talking about the items, do a double lift of the top two business
cards, showing the back to be blank (don’t call attention to it; let it be seen and that’s it).

Hold the crystal so that you can see the figure inside (this means the spectator will not be
able to see it) between your thumb at the bottom and the fingers at the top. The figure
should be right side up.

Bring the crystal close to the spectator, slightly higher than their eyes. Ask the spectator
if they seen anything inside. As you comment that, of course, they don’t, wave the double
business cards behind it as if emphasizing there’s nothing there.

Keep talking and, when it comes time for the image to appear, turn the crystal with the
third finger, using the second finger and thumb as pivot points. This is done as you raise
the crystal slightly higher.

Okay, a bit of an explanation here. Put simply, you’re performing a very open move
under the cover of a bit of biology. First, by putting the crystal slightly higher than the
spectator’s eyes, you’re causing them to strain themselves to look into the crystal. It’s not
work for them, certainly, but they are not in a very relaxed position. They, without
knowing it, have to concentrate on the crystal to peer into it. When it comes time to do
the quarter turn to reveal the image, moving your hand slightly higher and then back to
the original position forces the spectator to refocus on the crystal. This is not a huge
move that would startle the spectator and look extremely fishy; it’s a slight, two-inch at

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most, movement. Try it on yourself and you’ll see exactly what the spectator sees and
work out the movement.

So the spectator now sees the figure inside the crystal. While this is being done, return the
double business cards over the stack of business cards on the table. Quietly, and without
guilt, allow the blank card to fall onto the stack, holding on to the single business card
(the one with the printing on it) in your hand. You have a ton of misdirection and surprise
here; it would be a sin not to use it.

Again, bring the business card behind the crystal. Supposedly, the rationale is to help the
spectator see the image more clearly. Ah, but we’re a devious lot – with the business card
held so that the printing is behind the crystal, the image looks more eerie and the business
card, viewed through the prisms, will be accepted as still being blank by the spectator.

To end, move the crystal away from the card and toward the spectator, lowering the
crystal in a slight arc. As you do, call attention to the “reminder” (the business card),
turning the crystal as you do. The spectator will glance at the crystal and see it as empty
while the business card with its printing gets their attention. Pocket the crystal, pick up
the stack of business cards on the table and pocket it as well, and give the spectator the
business card.

Deliver the final, creepy lines, and call it a day.

The end.

To my thinking, there’s little else to be said about this routine other than what’s above,
but since when have I ever let that stop me from stating the obvious? With that in mind…

This is a very personal routine. Even in dry-runs (performances after rehearsal but before
paid performances, usually for friends and family), the reaction was emotional. Why?
That’s easy enough: you’re asking the spectator to recall something unpleasant,
something which upset them when they experienced it. You’re asking them to re-live it
and, even though most likely the nightmare was caused by digestion problems or anxiety
over something totally unrelated, that is a huge emotional hurdle for them.

Even if you don’t ask them to verbalize it, which you should never do here.

And, to top it all off, you don’t really give them much hope at the end of this routine
either. No reassuring messages, no little trinket to help them out, nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Except a very weird feeling of creepiness. You give them a business card and pull a
Pontius Pilate on them.

As it should be. A happy ending here is a fraud. First, you’ve done something to give
them a creepy feeling; taking it away from them at the last moment puts you solidly in
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the role of deus ex machina and that fails dramatically. Second, you’ve given them false
hope. The human mind doesn’t work that way: you can’t just wave a wand and suddenly
the mind says, “Okay, I won’t have nightmares anymore. Thank you very much.” In
reality, the cause of the nightmares will bring them back. The spectator will have a
nightmare again and again a shadowy figure will be present. A quick trick with an upbeat
ending will not supplant the internal and external causes of bad dreams. Implying so is, to
me, distasteful.

But I want the spectator to feel weird, not go into shock on me. So how do I walk that
fine line?

Check out the presentation again and you’ll see. The solution is nothing major, nothing
earthshaking at all: you empathize. Notice all the questions. Those are not there for
effect; they are there for rapport. You’re putting a bond in place, cementing the fact that,
no matter what the spectator’s particular brand of nightmare may be, you’ve had them
too. Then you describe what really causes nightmares and you do it in such a way it’s far
from clinical or scary; it’s homey, folksy. By the time you’re ready to go into the effect
proper, the spectator is relaxed with you and, more importantly here, what you’re doing.

This is much, much better for the spectator than the obvious “I’m going to grab a demon
from you and give it back to you and you’ll always be cursed with it so deal with it.” This
way, the spectator experiences the creepiness, the strangeness, but without a tremendous
amount of anxiety.

Well, anxiety caused by this trick, anyway.

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Weeping, An Old Man

Wherein grief and pity prove to be more cautionary than the tale

“I’d like to share a touching little story with you now. It’s probably fiction, but it may be
more. It is definitely a tale.

“One day a young man saw an old man sitting on a park bench. The young man noticed
the old man was crying.

“’What’s wrong, old-timer?’ the young man asked. ‘Is there anything I can do to help
you?’

“’No,’ replied the old man, wiping back his tears with the back of his old hand. ‘There’s
nothing you can do. I just realized today I have been around far too long and I have given
up.’

“The young man was taken aback. Here sat an old man, crying his heart out, and talking
about giving up on life.

“’Why, sir! That’s no way to talk! True, you’re old, but no one should ever think that
because they’ve led a full life they’ve lived too long! And giving up? Why, you have
many more years of life left in you, I’ll bet!’ The young man tried his best to cheer up the
old man, to make him realize his value still, to himself and others.

“The old man shook his head. ‘You don’t understand. I’ve been around too long; I’ve
seen it all. There’s no reason for me to be here still…’

“The young man became quite animated then. ‘But you can’t be serious! Seen it all?
Why, science and mankind are making advances every day! Technology is growing at a
fantastic pace! The world changes so quickly now; every minute, mankind makes huge
steps forward…’

“’Forward? Forward!’ the old man snorted, a grimace on his face bearing a sharp contrast
to his tear-stained cheeks. ‘You’re young yet, so maybe I should explain carefully.
Maybe after I do, you’ll understand. At least one of you should.’

A packet of four cards is brought out.

“’There was a time,’ the old man started, ‘when I had a variety of tools at my disposal –
seven to be exact. And in all the universe, no one wielded these tools any more skillfully
than I. And though my tools were few in number, oh, how many times did I use them to
gain my ends! Pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed, sloth… these I used to change
history time and time again!’”

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The cards are turned over and shown front and back. While the backs are blank, on the
front of each card is written seven words: pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed, and
sloth. The cards are placed in a spectator’s hand.

“’But now I look around me. I look at how things have changed. The tools – the sins -- I
used so deftly as a craftsman are useless now.’”

The cards are turned over. Where before were the seven sins are now the printing of
newspaper headlines. One mentions a woman who beat her children to death with a rock;
another speaks of hundreds of mass graves holding thousands of corpses; a third tells of
thousands dying of a famine caused by tribal war; the last carries the message of another
genocide.

“’I’m not needed anymore. You and your precious, advancing mankind have surpassed
me, replaced me.’ The old man stood to walk off, stopped, and said over his shoulder,
‘But I don’t shed tears for myself, young mortal; I cry for mankind.’”

The cards are turned over. Now, on the back of each card, is a single, black teardrop.

“The young man would later swear he saw a long, pointed tail fall from under the old
man’s coat, as he would swear he saw Satan cry.”

Yes, it’s a card trick, though I doubt anyone remembers it as that.

And it’s a simple card trick to boot.

Let’s get the set-up and the mechanics out of the way.

Set-up: You’ll need very little here: five double-blank playing cards (playing cards that
are blank on both sides, which don’t allow for much playing, if you think about it), a
black marker, and double-stick tape (cellophane tape which is adhesive on both sides).

On one of the playing cards, write out the names of the seven deadly sins (for easy
reference, they are again pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed, and sloth). Take a very
small piece of double-stick tape and place it on the face of this card, near its center, over
some of the print. Generally, the tape may be a bit too sticky: you’re after an amount of
adhesiveness that causes two cards to stick together, not to weld together semi-
permanently. Get around this by pressing your thumb against the tape a few times; this
will weaken the bond with the tape. Leave the back of this card blank.

On four of the playing cards, write whatever atrocities you can find from the local paper
that man is inflicting on each other at this point in time. Copying the headlines word-for-
word is fine and, honestly, preferred. On the backs of these cards, draw a single teardrop.

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These should not be huge; keep them small, no bigger than an inch, at most. I prefer them
to be smaller, actually, and make them about a half-inch in length.

When you’re done, put the packet of cards together so that, when held face down, the
card with the sins on it (and the tape) is on the top, printing down. Under this card are the
four headline cards, all oriented the same way.

Put the packet in a wallet or envelope to protect the tape from picking up dirt or lint and
you’re ready to go.

Method: Follow along the presentation until you get to the part about the sins. Bring out
the cards, removing them from the wallet or envelope, holding them so the faces are not
seen. Perform Brother John Hamman’s Flushtration count. Note that, during these counts,
the left hand is held tilted away from the spectator, essentially hiding the backs of the
cards from the spectator.

Hold the cards face up in the right hand, fingers at the outer edge, thumb at the inner
edge, and the blank back toward the spectator. Bring the left hand over, palm up, and
move the right hand into the left hand. Use the left thumb to drag the top card off of the
right hand’s packet by placing the left thumb on top of the packet and moving the right
hand so that the blank back is facing the spectator again (apparently this is the next card
in the packet, thanks to the false display). Repeat this action with the next two cards. For
the last card (really two cards held together), simply drop it on top of the of the left hand
packet. During all of this, the right hand is moving into the left hand and back to display
the card again; the left hand doesn’t move. Also, the left hand is tilted slightly back
toward you so the spectator doesn’t get a glimpse of the faces of the cards.

At the end of this count, the packet in the left hand consists, from the bottom up, of three
headline cards, the sticky sin card, and the fourth headline card. Bring the right hand over
the left (which is still tilted back) and move the sin card to the top of the packet by lifting
both it and the headline card above it with the right hand (fingers at the front edge, thumb
at the rear edge) and dragging the headline card into the left hand with the left thumb.
This is the same motion, without the display, as the Flushtration count you just
performed.

Lower the left hand, showing the printing on the sin card. Turn the packet face down with
the right hand by bringing it over the packet, momentarily covering it, and gripping it
between the right thumb at the inner left corner and the right middle finger at the outer
left corner. Rotate the packet from underneath with the left fingers, letting the packet
rotate on the two corners held by the right hand. As you do this, raise the hands in
preparation for another Flushtration count.

Perform this count exactly as you did the previous one, this time showing the faces of the
cards (the sins). At the end of the count, the sticky card will once again be the second
card from the top of the packet. This time, there’s no displacement necessary: the sticky
card has done its job and needs to go away. As luck would have it, the sticky tape does

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that work for you; simply apply a bit of pressure to the middle of the packet, causing the
sin card to adhere to the card below it.

Now to the gutsy part.

Have a spectator hold their hand outstretched, palm up, and then place the packet on her
palm, face down, hiding the showing tear drop with your left hand. Don’t remove your
hand; let it rest there, blocking the spectator’s view of the top card.

Deliver the next line of the story and then pick up the cards with the left hand, again
hiding the teardrop on the back of the top card. Rotate the left hand so the spectator sees
the bottom headline card. Read the headline aloud, pull the card from the left hand with
the right hand, and then drop the card face up on the spectator’s palm.

Repeat this with the remaining three headline cards. Do this slowly and deliberately
because, in addition to revealing the first change, you’re also subtly and openly showing
only four cards in play.

For the final change, pick up the cards again from the spectator’s palm. The packet now
is stacked with two headline cards on the bottom, a headline card with the sticky card
stuck to it, and then a single headline card on top. All the cards are face up, held in a
dealer’s grip in the left hand.

Deliver the appropriate line, turning over the packet in the left hand with the help of the
right hand, revealing the black teardrop. Push over the top three cards (two headliner
cards with the attached sticky card) from the left hand to the right where you hold the
cards in a dealer’s grip as you do the cards in the left hand. There is no reason to hide all
of this from the spectator; do it openly, let them see the second black teardrop on the card
in the left hand as well.

Spread both pairs of cards in each hand by pushing the top cards forward with the
thumbs. Push the top card of the left hand a little farther than the one in the right. You’ll
end here with three teardrops being seen plainly; the fourth “teardrop” is implied since
where it would and should be is naturally obscured with the right thumb.

Put the cards away.

The end.

I won’t insult you by saying this one isn’t for everyone. It’s a heavy piece, a dark piece,
and one I enjoy doing for some ungodly reason (pun intended).

So let’s look at the mechanics.

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The Flushtration count is preferred here. Yes, other counts could be used at different
stages, but the Flushtration count is almost moveless in comparison to, say, an Elmsley
count or a Rumba (both of which could be used, as with probably three dozen other false
counts and displays). Considering the story and how engaging it can be, I opted for the
simplest, least finger-flinging of the counts just to keep the moves as simple as the
presentation.

The last display, the one used for the climax that implies four teardrops instead of
actually showing them singly? Well, that’s a personal choice. Here an Elmsley seems
almost an instinctual imperative given you’re trying to show four cards all alike while
hiding the odd card during the count. But whenever I get that feeling I always take a
second look at what I’m doing and what the spectator should be seeing.

That isn’t to say I ignore my instincts; it is to say that I’ve learned to question anything
that comes to mind a bit too easily.

Here, I wanted a quick display to sell the climax to the story as rapidly as possible.
Counting cards singly just didn’t do it for me. From a strictly theatrical point of view,
after I’ve shown one teardrop, the spectator has most likely jumped ahead of me and
expects to see three more teardrops. I don’t want to give them that much dead time
where, in reality, all I’m doing is proving their expectations were correct.

I hate it when I do that.

Since at the time the packet is split in two, with two teardrops seen almost
simultaneously, I also looked at using the Olram Subtlety and dropping the cards into the
spectator’s hand in pairs. This was honestly looking good: it was quick, it gave me a
jump on the spectator’s expectations, and it ended with the cards being shown as only
four again while ending with the cards in the spectator’s possession.

In the end, the over-proving bugged me, as did leaving the cards with the spectator.
Audience management is one of those things we have to do perfectly, and most of us do,
but I didn’t see the need to leave the door open to problems. And besides, I was back to
counting the bloody things one more time, wasn’t I? So I opted for a subtler, faster
display. Done a few times in practice to get the amount of spreading right and it sells
better than the other counts would. And it’s paced perfectly for the story.

And, of course, you can feel free to ignore all of this and use the counts and displays you
feel most comfortable with. In my case, it’s a gutsy and quick bit; you may prefer a more
traditional, more methodical count. Here, as always, it’s what you feel comfortable with
that works best, justifications to myself over my own decisions aside.

If nothing else, your thinking it over will keep your mind from dwelling on the message,
won’t it?

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Life3
During which it is seen life is what you make out of it. Or what you make life out of.
Or something like that.

The performer brings out a Tarot deck, giving it to a spectator to shuffle. The spectator,
when finished mixing the cards, is asked to pull out any six of the cards and give them to
the performer.

“That the Tarot may predict the future is certainly debatable, but one thing is not:
virtually every part of the human condition, of life, is represented in the symbols on the
cards.

“Take these six cards you picked. This is the Nine of Cups; it represents satisfaction and
sensual pleasure. This is the Three of Swords and represents heartbreak and loneliness.
The Four of Cups represents self-absorption. The King of Pentacles represents support
and reliability. The Chariot represents victory. And the Seven of Wands represents
defiance and conviction.”

As the cards are discussed, they are folded in an odd way.

“In a very abstract way, these cards could be said to represent your life, your joys, your
hopes, your ups and downs.

“Now, some would say that happiness in life is a matter of luck, a crap shoot, a roll of the
dice…” the cards are assembled into a strange cube, with a different card on each face.
The performer rolls the cube across the table. “…While others say it is really a matter of
knowing what would truly make you happy and then going after it.

“I’ve got another take on it. I think getting what you want out of life is simply a matter of
putting what you want into it.”

The spectator is handed a business card and a pen. “Here; I’ll show you what I mean.
Write down your goal in life, something that would truly make you happy. It might be
something as esoteric as self-awareness, or as materialistic as a new career. Whatever it
is, just write it down so we’ll know what it is.” The spectator does so. “Now fold it so no
one can see what you wrote yet.”

The performer brings out a handkerchief, drapes it over his hand, and places the folded
paper in the middle of the handkerchief and gives it to the spectator to hold.

“So, the big question: to get what you want out of life, is it a matter of luck…” The
performer rolls the cube again. “…Is it a matter of metaphysical knowledge… Or is it
matter of putting what you want into your life? Let’s check and see. Open the
handkerchief and read what you wrote aloud.”

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The spectator does as instructed, but what she reads is not what she wrote. Instead, the
card now reads: “Getting what you want out of life is a matter of putting what you want
in it.”

“Well, that is certainly strange. You know, I said that these cards could represent your
life, so, perhaps…”

With a pop, the cube made of the Tarot cards bursts apart. Lying among the cards is a
folded piece of paper.

“Please pick that up – I don’t want to touch it because I think it belongs to you.”

The spectator picks it up.

“Please read it aloud. Is that the one thing in life that would make you happy? Is that
what you wrote?”

The spectator is surprised to learn it is.

“Then perhaps I’m right, to a certain extent, and perhaps Somebody somewhere agrees
with me, considering the message you were left with.”

The performer reassembles the cube, asking the spectator to drop her wish back into
cube. The performer thus leaves the spectator with a memento of the occasion.

“You’ve put your wish into your life, so perhaps you’ll also get your wish out of it. I
hope you do.”

Yes, I know. It’s uncharacteristically smarmy for me. But I refuse to keep my spectators
feeling negative emotions all the time. It’s unfair to the audience and, arguably worse, I
run the risk of becoming a caricature. So, the infamously proverbial rollercoaster ride
comes into play and this routine is a part of that.

Besides, I’ll show you ways to make it darker.

First, let’s look at the handling.

You’ll need a deck of Tarot cards that will be heartlessly abused during the course of the
routine. For this reason, do not use your favorite Tarot deck that you’ve had in the family
for generations; go pick up a brand new deck instead. You’ll be giving away six cards at
a pop with this, so gauge your usage accordingly.

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In addition to the Tarot deck, you’ll also need an opaque handkerchief. Notice I did not
say “silk”. Splurge and use a cotton handkerchief instead. After that, you’ll need some
business cards and a pen.

That’s it for the supplies, so now let’s look at what makes this routine work.

Obviously, there’s a switch involved and, just as obviously, it involves that handkerchief.
In fact, you’re going to be using a switch referred to as “the gypsy switch”. Now I must
admit here I have no clue as to the origin of this switch, though the romantic in me likes
to think gypsies invented it to use in a bait-and-switch con of some sort. Most likely
that’s not where it came from at all. Jerry Mentzer and Bob Haskell, I’m told, both had
versions of this switch. Regardless, it is a good, simple, and effective switch that works
great in the context of this routine.

The card cube is the other piece of this. The construction is very simple, though there is a
bit of a knack and skill to assembling the pieces. The card cube idea I picked up from
Paul Harris’s “Art of Astonishment Volume 3” (“The Cube” by Harry Eng and Paul
Harris, which originally appeared in Genii back in 1985), but I also found out my friend
Robert Neale has been playing with such things since either he or playing cards were
invented (I forget which and, yes, I’m being moderately facetious here).

Before we get much farther, let’s take a look at how to construct that cube. Considering
the cost of Tarot cards over a regular old deck of cards, you may want to practice with the
cheaper alternative and grab a deck of worn-out Bicycles for this (I’ve used ye olde Bikes
in the following pictures for clarity).

Okay, to begin, the cube is made of six cards which all stay together courtesy of lips or
flanges folded into the short edges of the cards. There’s an easy way to get those folds
into place:

Take one card and put it on the table so it is face down and with a short-end toward you.
Put another card across this one, with the short ends to the right and to the left. Basically,
you’ve made a small “plus” sign of the two cards. Align the uppermost card so it is as
close to the center of the lower card as possible and the same amount of the lower card is
visible on the top and bottom of the “plus” sign (you’ve got a great deal of leeway here,
but you might as well shoot for perfection while you’re doing this).

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Now, crease the lower card against the edges of the upper card, using the upper card as a
straight edge. When you’re done, you basically have a made a very wide “U” of the lower
card, wrapping it slightly around the upper card. Remove the upper card, since you’re
done folding this card.

Repeat with five other cards.

When you’re done, you will have six cards that look somewhat like very broad “U”s.

Now comes the big moment: putting the bloody thing together.

The general principle is that the cube is put together by placing long edges (the unfolded
sides) against the flanges (the folded ends). Those flanges will always be on the outside
of the cube as you construct it.

Begin by placing on the cards on the table, flanges sticking up. Take another card and
place it on the first card so that the long edge of this card is on the crease of the flange
(remember: the flanges go on the outside).

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Repeat this with another card for the crease of the remaining flange.

Congratulations! You’re half way there; three more cards to go.

Unfortunately, this is where the juggling comes in. Take another card and place this one
so its long edges are inside the flanges of the two upright cards. Make sure this card’s
flange goes underneath the card on the bottom of the assembly.

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Repeat this with another card on the other side of the assembly.

At this point, you’ve got five of the six sides slid together. To lock the cube in place, the
final card is slid under one of the flanges on top of the cube. The other flange is
straightened so this top card rests flat on top of the cube. Press this flange back down,
which creates the necessary tension to keep the cube together.

This may feel like a very weak construct, but the cube is actually fairly solid. Press on it
gently and you’ll see what I mean. It’s this construction that makes the pieces fly all over
the place when the time is right.

To make that happen (and since you’ll want to take the cube apart anyway to practice the
assembly a couple of times), hold the cube by opposite corners in the right hand, one
corner on the thumb and the other on the middle finger. If you press the thumb and the
finger toward each other at this point, the cube will fall apart. Nice, but not what we’re
after. To get that little mess with the cards, move the thumb toward the finger while at the
same time moving the finger toward the base of the thumb. This action is almost a

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reverse of the action required to snap the fingers. Done quickly, the cube appears to
almost shatter with a bit of a “pop” as the cards fly hither and yon.

Once you’ve mastered the cube, it’s time to deal with the routine itself. Believe me, after
constructing the cube a few times, you’ll have the knack… and the rest of the routine will
look like a cakewalk.

The only set-up you have to worry about is writing, “Getting what you want out of life is
a matter of putting what you want in it” on the back of one of your business cards. Fold
the business card into quarters and put it into a pocket with the handkerchief. Have the
pen and the Tarot cards in a convenient location and you’re all set.

To perform, bring out the Tarot deck and have the spectator shuffle it a few times. Have
them hand you six cards out of the deck. As you describe the cards, assemble the cube.

Hand a business card and the pen to the spectator. Ask them to write down the object of
their happiness. As they do, get the handkerchief out of your pocket, finger-palming the
folded business card. With the empty hand, drape the handkerchief over the finger-
palmed business card, opening the handkerchief so that the hidden business card is
underneath the handkerchief, in the middle of the cloth.

Ask the spectator to fold their card into quarters and place it on the handkerchief. They
will, quite naturally, place the card near the middle of the handkerchief, close to the
location of the hidden card (which is underneath the handkerchief, in your hand).

With the empty hand, grasp the two cards with the thumb on top of the spectator’s card
and the fingers underneath the hidden card; the handkerchief is, of course, trapped
between the two. Lift this hand straight up, removing everything the hand. This moves
the hidden card into the center of the handkerchief and hides the spectator’s card behind
the handkerchief, which is held by the center between the thumb and fingers. Place the
center of the handkerchief back into the hand so that the ends hang over the back of the
hand and the cards are in the palm of the hand.

From all appearances, you’ve simply put the card inside the handkerchief. Because of the
action and the use of that second card, the switch works quite well here.

Have the spectator take the ends of the handkerchief in one hand. Move your hand away,
stealing away the spectator’s card in the hand, and ask the spectator to feel the bottom of
the handkerchief to see if the card is still there. Naturally, they spectator will feel a card
and assume it’s theirs. You know what they say about assuming.

You’re now going to load the spectator’s card onto the cube. There’s a natural tendency
here to do this loading (such as it is) as soon as possible. Don’t. Yes, you’re dirty at this
point, but there’s nothing to be concerned with yet: the thought of a second card hasn’t
crossed the spectator’s mind yet, and the spectator has no reason to think such a thing is

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being used; if you rush to clean yourself up, you run the risk of being caught. Have some
patience, take your time, and do the load when the spectator is more fully occupied.

So move the spectator’s card into the Ramsey Subtlety position and roll the card-cube
back and forth, from one hand to the next across the table, letting the simple psychology
of such openness do the job of leaving the impression you’re much cleaner than you are.
Have the spectator open the handkerchief and read the card.

Now you can load the spectator’s card safely. After all, how, exactly, does one open a
handkerchief to look inside? The spectator will think about it for a second and that’s all
the time you need.

Since you’re still rolling the cube back and forth, you don’t need any reason to grab the
cube – you’re being theatrical here and it works. Stop the cube so that the flanges on the
top run to your right and left, parallel to you. With the spectator’s card in a finger palm,
bring the hand (and the card) over the top of the cube. Relax the finger palm, letting the
spectator’s card land on top of the cube. In the same motion, pick up the cube and rotate
the top (and the card resting on it) toward you. As you do this, the card will fall behind on
of the flanges. Use the thumb to push it down deeper into the flange, securing it there.

Continue rolling the cube as the spectator reads the card in the handkerchief. When she’s
finished, and looking back at you, pick up the cube and hold it in the hand so the cube is
held between the thumb and second finger by opposing corners and the spectator’s card is
hidden from view. Cause the cube to explode as discussed earlier (moving the middle
finger toward the base of the thumb). In the middle of the mess will lay the spectator’s
card.

Take the handkerchief from the spectator and have them pick up the card lying on the
table. Have them read it, assembling the cube as they do, but not putting the sixth card
into position yet. When they are done, place their card inside the cube and lock the last
Tarot card in place, completing the cube. Give them the cube and the other business card
as a souvenir.

And that’s all there is to it.

If you’re not feeling particularly smarmy, there are ways to make this a darker routine.

First, remember that the cube can be constructed with a variety of cards: the only
requirements are that the cards be rectangular and a bit stiff (to make the best mess when
it explodes). This gives you a great deal of leeway to construction routines and playing
with themes:

- The Seven Deadly Sins comes immediately to mind. Write the sins down,
one to a card, and have the spectator pick one. Create a cube out of the six
remaining cards. Perform the switch, swapping out the spectator’s
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“darkest sin” for a folded “Judgment” card from a Tarot deck. Have the
chosen sin appear in the cube, a reminder to the spectator that her “darkest
sin” is as much a part of her as all the others, just as it is with everyone.
- Although the cube looks nothing like one, it can be thought of as a coffin.
Wrapped in a shroud (the handkerchief) a departed individual disappears,
leaving just the barest traces of their existence (a blank card). Upon
opening the coffin sans explosion, there lies the dead in state.
- A Pandora’s Box theme would work as well, with the spectator writing
down a hope of theirs, it vanishing (and leaving behind in it’s wake some
suitable dreads – by having the spectator hold the handkerchief by the
folded card(s) instead of the ends of the handkerchief, the added thickness
goes unnoticed) and reappearing trapped inside the infamous box.

As I said, there are lots of themes to explore with this, some darker than others certainly.
Let your imagination go with this one and there’s really no telling what you may come up
with.

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The End of the World as We Know It

During which it is seen the end of the world is actually a very predictable thing.

“Would it surprise you to know that I can predict the end of the world?”

The spectator is dubious, to say the least.

“Would it surprise you if I said that you can predict the end of the world?”

The spectator now is convinced someone in this discussion has splinters in the windmills
of their mind, and it ain’t her.

“Look at it this way: if a physician from the 16th century could do, why can’t we?”

The performer pulls out a small stack of blank cards and a marker.

“We’ll just do it a lot easier than Nostradamus did it, that’s all: we’ll just take it a step at
a time.

“Let’s start with the easy part: the year. Here, let me make my prediction first.” The
performer thinks for a moment then writes something down on one of the cards. Folding
it twice, the performer drops it into a small glass.

“You didn’t see what I wrote down, did you? I wouldn’t want to influence you in any
way. You didn’t? Fine.” The performer hands the spectator the marker and a card. “Now,
the key, I think, is to not put a whole lot of thought into it. Just go with your gut feel.
What year do you think the world will end? 2012? 2200? 5115? Whatever you think, just
write it down so we don’t forget it – as if we could forget the end of the world, right?”
The spectator does as instructed.

“Okay, so now we’ve predicted the year; now let’s predict a date. Let’s see, I feel good –
that’s a poor choice of words, isn’t it? – about a date already.” The performer writes
down his prediction on another card, folds it twice, and drops it in the glass with the other
prediction.

“I hope you didn’t see what I wrote.” The spectator assures the performer she didn’t.
“Great. Now it’s your turn. Once again, just go with what feels right. June 6th, December
19th, August 4th… whatever just seems to jump out at you.” The spectator writes a date
down on another card.

“Well, we both have now predicted the date and the year. Aren’t we doing well? Well, I
think we are! But now comes the best part, if you can call it that. Now we get to predict
how the world will end.

“This is the tricky part, I think. When Nostradamus wrote his prediction of the future, all
around him was war and disease and famine, so naturally he focused on those as

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important events in the end of the world. Well, you and I have a much tougher job. True,
we’ve still got all of those worries, but we’ve got so much more on top of it. Let’s make a
quick list. How many ways can the world end? Do you have any in mind? Does anyone
have any particular things that will bring about the end of the world?”

The performer and the spectator, and those around them, begin naming different methods
of destruction of the known world and, sometimes, the known universe. Disease, nuclear
war, runaway green house effect, meteors, black holes, the sun exploding, super
volcanoes and tidal waves… all these and more are named. As they are, the performer
writes them down, one to a card, until ten are listed.

“It always amazes me that we say ‘the end of the world’ as a catch-phrase, a summary
almost, when there are obviously so many ways for the world to end. We didn’t even try
hard and we already have ten different endings to the planet.

“The tough part will be predicting one instinctually. After all, we carry so many biases to
the table when it comes to this sort of thing. The media tells us global warming will kill
us, there’s still that lingering fear over a nuclear war – a threat we’ve felt for a long time,
and even our religions sometimes affect how we think of the end of the world. What we
need is to be able to put all of that behind us and make our prediction from the gut as it
were.”

The performer holds the cards so the various endings can’t be seen and then absently cuts
the cards to a random ending. “Oh, I like that one. Well, not exactly ‘like’ but you know
what I mean.” The performer writes down his prediction on a blank card, folds it twice
again, and drops it in the glass.

“And there you have it: my last piece of the prediction, done without any foreshadowing
whatsoever and done completely subconsciously. Now it’s your turn. We know we have
ten different ways for the world to end here, so let’s let your subconscious do the work:
just call out any number between one to ten, whichever feels right.”

The spectator names a number. The performer gives the cards to the spectator, telling her
to count down to that number. She does so and turns the card over.

The performer is silent for a moment before speaking. “All I can say is ‘what a way to
go’. Still, it all a piece of your prediction, isn’t it? Just like it was a piece of my prediction
when I made it earlier.

“I hope you’ll forgive me for saying I got cold chills just then. You see, I had intended
this to be a bit silly. After all, if you think about it, two people sitting here predicting the
how and when of the end of the world is a touch goofy, to say the least. Oh, I know it’s
serious, and it’s something we need to think about, but still, it was meant to be a mental
exercise and a chance to have a bit of fun. But now… let me show you what’s got me
thinking a bit differently than I had intended.

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“I wrote down my prediction before you, and you assured me you didn’t see anything I
wrote down. And then you made a prediction in three parts, which give us your
prediction for the end of the world.”

The performer reads aloud the spectator’s prediction, reiterating it for everyone.

“You predicted the world would end on April 17th, 2050, by an unstoppable disease.”

The performer indicates the glass on the table, holding the three predictions the performer
made.

“Dump those out, open them, and read what they say.”

The spectator does as instructed. One by one the predictions are opened, and one by one
they are read.

“April 17th.”

“Disease.”

“2050.”

“You predicted the end of the world by disease on April 17th, 2050. I predicted the exact
same thing even before you did.

“I don’t know what it means, these impossible predictions, but I really and truly hope you
and I are wrong.”

Ah, the old “three-way prediction” thing. I love that theme so much it’s hard to contain
myself. I think at first it was infatuation (considering I learned about this as a callow
youth with a god-awful plastic “Mental Epic” contraption in a magic set), but then as I
found other works on this by real professionals (as opposed to imaginary professionals
who, evidently, were behind those old magic sets) I genuinely came to love this premise.
In fact, I had been performing Shiel’s version of it for quite some time using an old west
gambling theme to spice things up.

Then I hit on the idea of predicting something bigger than cards and numbers and all of
that. I wanted to predict Something Big.

To do that would fly in the face of convention when it came to the three-way prediction.
After all, everyone knows the power of the three-way only lies in each successive
prediction being more difficult: “pick a card, dear spectator, then pick a word, then pick a
number from one to a zillion.”

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Everyone, I’m sorry to say, is wrong.

Don’t believe me? One word, followed by three words: “B’Wave by Phil Goldstein”.

Yeah, that one got you thinking, didn’t it? It did me, too.

Anyone who has performed that classic card trick knows how powerful it can be. It floors
spectators, stuns them right onto their posteriors.

And it is, all told, simply a one-in-four prediction. The presentation and the climax make
it a classic, not the odds. The spectator could care less about the odds there.

About that time, I stopped caring, too.

That bell you hear tolling is for conventional thinking as it pertains to the three-way
prediction.

Besides, instinctually, the audience knows the odds are long. Oh, maybe not in any
particular piece of the prediction trifecta, but in getting all three right, one right after the
other. That’s the mysterious part of this, not the predictions themselves. The audience
sees those three predictions as one large piece, one huge prediction where the odds are
astronomical against your getting simply lucky. That’s the power of the “three-way
prediction”.

So, with that whole “escalating odds” thing thrown aside, I began throwing more out. I
loved Shiel’s take on everything being related (as opposed to the whole card-word-
number thing as in the classic presentation of this) so I went that way as well. I also
wanted more interaction. I hate it when my spectators become lab rats and, in the typical
“three-way prediction”, that’s all they are really. So the steady pacing of the “three-way”
got jilted in favor of more play with the folks that came to see me.

I did keep the force in use, though, but I’ll have to admit I thought about getting rid of
that, too.

In the end, what I got was what I wanted: a creepy prediction of the end of the world,
played within the mechanics of the “three-way prediction”, with lots of audience
participation and interaction.

You’ve read enough blathering: on with the workings. But don’t worry; there’s a lot of
psychology here that needs explaining and I’ll be blathering about it at the end of this
discussion.

First, you’ll need a stack of blank cards. I use business card stock. You can use your
business cards, but quite frankly this is not a time to be dealing them out anyway
(thematically, yes, it’s perfectly alright, but given the mechanics and the fact you’d have
to give out three to one spectator for them to have the complete prediction, I’d pass. For

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the perfectionists, yes, you could re-write the whole prediction on one card and give it
away, but why go to that trouble? Give them one from another trick).

You’ll also need a marker – a pen or pencil will not be visible enough in most cases – and
a small glass big enough to hold your three predictions. I actually use a small glass sauce
dish, but anything will work which mixes the predictions as they are poured out of it. Put
everything where it is easy to get to and you’re ready to go.

Other than that, there’s no pre-show set-up. What set-up does remain you’ll do during the
course of the routine.

To perform, bring out the blank cards, the marker, and, if you don’t have a glass already
handy, your glass. Sit the glass mouth up to the side, laying the cards and the marker on
the table.

Make the first prediction by writing down a suitable end-of-the-world scenario. It really
doesn’t matter what because you’ll be forcing it later, but I like to keep it a bit
“mainstream”: “disease” is a good one, as is “global warming”. Your decision, of course,
but just remember it for later.

After you’ve written it down, fold it in half, then fold it again, folding it in quarters, and
drop it openly into the glass.

Hand the marker and a blank card to the spectator and have them write their prediction as
per the presentation, asking for the year of the end. Don’t fold theirs, but leave it in plain
sight, reading it aloud.

Take back the marker and, supposedly make a prediction about the date of the end. In
reality, of course, you continue your little escapade into being one ahead by writing down
the year the spectator just wrote. Again, fold the card into quarters and drop it into the
glass.

Give the spectator the marker and have her write down her prediction for the date of the
end of the world. Again, read it aloud, comment on it, and leave it in plain view.

Take the marker and make final prediction, supposedly on the method of destruction. In
reality, of course, you stay one-ahead by writing down the date the spectator just wrote.

At this point, you have three folded cards in the glass and you’re ready to finish things up
with the force.

I use a very open version of Bascomb Jones’ “European 10-11 force”. It’s a bit gutsy, and
it goes in a few different directions, but I found it to be the best handling for what is
required here. It reads as something horribly complicated, but in reality it is not. Done a
couple of times, the comfort level sets in quite well.

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Before forcing anything, though, you need something to force. Ask the spectator about
different ways for the world to end and then ask other spectators to help. Stay out of it as
much as you can, chiming in only if the spectators become stuck. Write them down, one
to a card, as they call off different global demises, laying the cards face down as you do
slightly spread so you can always keep track of how many you’ve written.

On the third card, write down whatever doom you predicted and dropped in the glass,
regardless of what anyone calls out. Do the same on the fifth card as well. Needless to
say, but said anyway, is that the spectators do not see what you’ve written on the cards.
All the other cards have random destructions written on them and are incidental to the
force. Every once in a while, turn over the card after you’ve a spectator’s choice on it to
verify with them what you’ve written. Do this a couple of times, and do it off-handedly
(“You said ‘germ’ and I wrote this. Is that okay?”). You’ll be showing different cards a
lot, but this gives the initial impression everything is on the up-and-up and you’re not
doing anything sneaky.

When you’ve written on and placed eleven cards on the table, put the marker down and
gather up the cards. Count them rather quickly, reversing the order of the cards.
Naturally, you don’t count them aloud – everything has been open so far and there is no
suspicion on the cards. Just run them from one hand to the next quickly so a spectator
can’t count them. When you’re done, the force cards will be in the third and fifth
positions on top of the stack of cards. Assure the spectators that you have ten and that’s
more than enough for this.

Follow the presentation and cut the cards at random. Look at the card you cut to, make
your remark, and assemble the cards again.

Now we move into the “10-11 force”.

Hold the cards face down. Ask a spectator for a number between one to ten (since you
supposedly have ten cards) and, depending on their answer, handle the cards and count as
follows:

If the spectator says “one” or “ten”, have them choose another number. Do not make a
production out of this! Simply say, “Choose another one; I’m afraid you might have
caught a glimpse of the top (or bottom, if they chose ten) one and we want your
subconscious to do the work here. As luck would have it, I’ve only ever had to use this
trivial out once in a few dozen performances; don’t worry excessively about it.

If the spectator says “two”, then hand her the packet face down. Ask her to count off two
cards onto the table face up and then turn over the next card (the third card which is your
force card).

If the spectator says “three”, then hand her the packet face down and ask her to count off
three cards onto the table face up, the third card being her selected doom. Again, this is
your force card.

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If the spectator says “four”, then hand her the packet face down and ask her to count off
four cards onto the table face down and turn over the next card as her selection (your
second force card).

If the spectator says “five”, then hand her the packet face down and ask her to count off
five cards onto the table face down and turn over the last dealt card as her selection (that
force card again).

If the spectator says “six”, hand the spectator the packet face-up. Ask her to count off six
cards onto the table face up with the top card of the packet she’s holding being her
chosen card (force card again).

If the spectator says “seven”, hand the spectator the packet face-up and have her count
off seven cards onto the table face up. The last card she counts to the table will be her
choice (yep, it’s the force card).

If the spectator says “eight”, you get to do the counting. Hold the packet face up and
begin counting the cards onto the table, turning them face down as you do. At first, keep
the cards where the spectator can just slightly see the faces, but as you get nearer to that
seventh card (a force card), turn your hand more toward you. Also, during this counting,
turn over one or two of the cards, showing them to the audience as things not predicted to
happen (“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about global warming getting us”). After
you’ve dealt the seventh card down (again, that’s one of your force cards), hold the
packet so the audience can see the eighth card and count it down as well. Show the face
of the next card at the face of the packet (the force card) as the selection.

If the spectator says “nine”, you do all the work again. As with “eight” above, hold the
packet face up and begin counting the cards onto the table, turning them face down.
Everything is identical as above, that is, you deal and count the cards in order to hide that
duplicate force card at position seven. This time, you’re free to show the eighth card
freely (which I recommend) as you deal it down and show the next card, the force card,
as the choice. During this count, though, it’s important that the audience not realize
you’re holding one card too many in your hand. Be sure to keep them squared as you
show the ninth card.

As I said, it reads as something Herculean, but it really is very simple. Give it a shot with
just a deck of cards with the Jokers in the proper positions (third and fifth) and you’ll see
what I mean.

Now that the spectator has been chosen the forced doom, give it to her so she had all
three of her predictions in front of her. Put the rest of the cards together and remove them
from play (ditching them in your pocket will work fine) along with the marker and any
left over cards.

Have the spectator dump out the predictions from the glass, open them, and read them.
Finish as in the presentation.

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Try really hard not to laugh as you and your spectator join the ranks of Nostradamus and
the Weekly World News.

And there you have it: “Predicting Doomsday 101”. Lots of words to explain the
mechanics, and now lots of words to describe the psychology. Bear with me.

You should know the presentation makes or breaks this, like a lot of routines. I’ve given a
great many lines in the presentation that need to be used to make this one play as
powerfully as it does. Naturally, you’ll want change things to suit you, so here are the bits
to keep in mind.

First, selling the fact you made your predictions before the spectator did. Do not hammer
this over their heads. They are not blind; they see what they see. But do mention it under
the guise of not wanting them to see what you wrote down. Doing this enforces the
situation solidly in the spectators’ minds without stating the obvious (which to me always
was so fishy it stank of week old halibut).

Next, the creation of the cards. Use this to bring all the spectators into the effect. Stay out
of it as much as possible. Your role here is one of note-taker. Write down anything the
spectators throw at you. If they come back with something witty (as they will – expect
ex-spouses or in-laws to be mentioned), alter it to something more appropriate or dismiss
it with a joke. Pay attention! If they duplicate themselves, mention it and show them the
card if you can. Remember, your only real concern here is hiding the creation of the
duplicates. Everything else needs to be open to the audience. If you do have to interject to
help them along, make it more of a conversation instead of a bullet item: “How about a
meteor?” doesn’t work half as well as “Well, what about a meteor hitting the planet? That
would cause earthquakes and huge tidal waves and throw us out of orbit so we collide
with the sun. Think that would be a good one?”

Lastly, the selection of a card. Yes, that’s the liver and lights of this: you’re forcing a
card. The reason is simply one of using the subconscious mind instead of letting
prejudices get in the way. I know, I know… it sounds lame. It also works. Go into a bit of
detail here, but not a lot. Give the spectators as much of a reason and as few examples as
they need to get it. That is more than enough and, remember, at this point this all just a
weird little joke of some kind.

I’ll leave off the acting involved at selling the climax because I’m sure, if you’ve read
this far, you know just how important that is.

To close this, it’s nice to have a bit of an understanding of a few end-of-the-world

scenarios just in case the spectators run dry on you and can’t name more than one or two.
Here are enough scenarios, eleven in total, to make a packet all by itself without any
input from the audience (as an added bonus, some of these actually end the universe
also). Use them if you find the need. If they are not to your liking, there are many, many
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more – perusing the newspaper with an eye toward global destruction will net you a
truckload.

Ways To End The World – The Short List

Meteor impact. This is the Big One. Simply, a huge rock traveling really quickly slams
into the Earth, sending shockwaves throughout the globe. Massive earthquakes, major
tsunamis, years of darkness from the airborne dirt and debris, and incineration by huge
amounts of suddenly active volcanoes are just some of the things to look forward to.

Planetary collision. A bigger Big One, this time around a planet – a mysterious eleventh
planet in our solar system – comes so close to Earth our planetary axis will shift, moving
continents, ripping off our crust, and hurtling us into the sun.

Black hole. A black hole suddenly shows up in our solar system, eating planets for lunch.
When it gets to Earth, the entire planet would be stretched and broke violently as it gets
sucked into the black hole. Needless to say, life would be over as even the atoms that
make up all life on Earth get sucked in. Not a pleasant way to go at all.

Extraterrestrials. The first thing we’d see would be a huge spaceship, probably a saucer
of some kind, on the horizon. The next thing we’d see is the flash of high-energy death-
rays. And so begins the invasion where the entire human race is slaughtered, enslaved, or
harvested courtesy of advanced technology and a bad case of travel sickness.

Diseases. Between old viruses that could make a comeback (measles, small pox, cholera,
tuberculosis, and even the Black Plague have been known to reappear now and then),
relatively new illnesses (such as AIDS, SARS, and Ebola), bacteria and viruses which
can be made in a laboratory, and the fact bacteria and viruses evolve and change as time
goes on (making even influenza a disease which could kill 90% of the people infected by
it), diseases are in the End-of-the-World Top Ten for a reason.

Ice Age. Too much carbon dioxide in the air causes climatic instability and climatic
instability leads to no longer requiring air conditioners as the temperature of the planet
plummets. The jet stream will reverse itself, causing monstrous flooding and tremendous
storms. Glaciers will form quickly as ceaseless snowstorms ravage the planet. Plants die,
animals die, the human race dies. Cockroaches are ecstatic.

Volcanoes. Think of it not as a volcano, but as a high-pressure balloon of super-heated

magma that suddenly erupts, sending 400,000 cubic kilometers of molten rock into the
sky. If that didn’t get you, then the kilotons of toxic chemicals would. All rainfall around
the planet would become acidic for years to come. The ozone layer would break down,
letting in the deadly solar rays and raising the temperature of the planet several
magnitudes. And, beyond all of that, there’s the soot that would darken the sky and
plunge the world into a nuclear winter in an instant.

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Insanity. 6% of all men and 10% of all women suffer from depression. 20% of all
children have some kind of mental illness or behavioral disorder. The World Health
Organization says that by 2020, depression will be the second major cause of disability
after heart disease. And the numbers just keep right on a-climbing.

Runaway greenhouse effect. Temperatures rise, the polar caps melt, cities are washed
away, tornadoes and hurricanes appear everywhere, and diseases like malaria flourish.
That’s for starters, but that’s enough; there’s no sense going into the disappearance of all
water as temperatures continue to rise and oceans evaporate. Oops, I shouldn’t have said
that.

Nuclear war. It really doesn’t matter what starts it, because once it starts, things get ugly.
Cities evaporate and hundreds of millions die. Radiation kills hundred of millions more
as water becomes radioactive, even as it falls from the sky. Soot from the explosions blot
out the sun, thrusting the world into a nuclear winter where temperatures fall far below
zero and all plant and animal life begin to die. From there, and with the ozone layer gone
courtesy of some nasty reactions in the atmosphere, the planet superheats with solar
radiation and now even the cockroaches, probably the last surviving species on the
planet, are miserable. The end.

Impotence. This is one of the bleakest ways to go but also one of the strangest. The fact
is that male sperm counts have fallen from an average of 133 million cells to 66 million
cells in fifty years. That means that in fifty more years, there won’t be many more little
humans running around. In a dozen years after that, babies become a myth. And so does
the human race.

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Is There A Death So Good?

In which the best of deaths is sought, found, and lost again.

“One of the greatest fears we have is the fear of death. That fear is programmed into us,
part of our evolution as a species as part of our survival instinct, just as death itself is
built into our DNA to ensure we pass eventually into that good night. But looking at it
from a strictly biological stance, death is an entirely painless affair. The brain releases
some chemicals, we relax, and then we relax a bit more, and the moment of our demise is
as effortless as anything could be.

“Isaac Asimov said that life is pleasant and death is peaceful; it’s the transition that’s
troublesome. And the good doctor was definitely onto something.

“But I think that, because we fear it so much, worry about it so much, we’re actually
closer to understanding our own death than we’d care to admit. If you’re willing, we can
play a little game – some might call it a test – but then you’ll see what I mean. I have to
warn you, it can be a little emotionally draining, but on the positive side, no matter how
the game comes out, you’ll be ahead of everyone else. Would you like to play?”

A small packet of blanks business cards is brought out along with a pen. Four cards are
removed from the packet and then put on the table, in a row, with the writing face down.

“The rules of the game are simple: I’m going to give you a very general type of death. I
want you to think about that type of death, visualize it happening in your mind. Now, you
can imagine it happening to yourself, to a family member, or, most popularly, to someone
you dislike as a bit of playful revenge. It’s up to you. Then, when you’ve got that death
firmly in mind, I want you to just touch one of the pieces of paper on the table. When you
do, it will be eliminated from the game and we’ll keep going until there is only one left.
That’s really all there is to it. Ready?”

After the spectator acknowledges they are ready, the game begins.

“The first type of death I want you to imagine is a sudden death, a quick ending to life,
almost happening in a blink of an eye. Think about a sudden death. When you’re ready,
touch one of the cards on the table, any one at all.”

The spectator does so. The word “sudden” is written on the card for all to see and it is
removed from the table.

“The next type of death I want you to visualize is an agonizing death, a death with much
suffering, much pain, involved with it. Think about an agonizing death. When you’re
ready, touch any one of the cards on the table.”

The spectator touches a card, and this time the word “agonizing” is written on the card. It
is removed from the table.

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“You’re doing great so far. Are you still up to playing? Great!

“Next, think about a violent death, a death brutal and vicious by its nature. Imagine it and
then, when you’re ready, touch another card.”

The spectator does so and the word “violent” is written on the chosen card, before it is
taken away.

“Now, that leaves us with a single card, you’re having eliminated all the others in this
strange game. How are you feeling? A bit weird, I imagine, what with all this thinking
about death and dying. I warned you about that, and I also said there was a positive side.

“You eliminated all these, well, bad ways to die. An agonizing death, a sudden death, a
violent death… those you eliminated. You left only one method of dying on the table,
and it’s the one which, when we think about it, gives us the most comfort.”

The remaining card is turned over. Written on the back is a single word: “peaceful”.

“This proves, quite perfectly I think, that you have a better understanding of death and
dying than you thought you did, just as we all do. Congratulations on being so perceptive,
and receptive, to your dying!”

The spectator is a bit dubious, having never seen the writing on the other cards.

“I know you’re thinking I arranged this. It would be a simple thing, writing the same
word on each card. But if I show you the other cards, you might not like it much. I guess,
though, I’m duty-bound to show you.”

The other cards are shown. Written on both sides of the cards are matching words: the
card chosen by the spectator as they imagined an agonizing death says “agonizing” on
both sides, the one chosen while thinking of “sudden” says that on both sides, and the
one selected for a violent death has written on it “violent” on both sides. The spectator’s
understanding of death has allowed her to locate by instinct each of the different modes
of death.

“Remember, I never said anything specific about your death – how could I, or you, for
that matter? But this proves inconclusively you’re knowledgeable about death than you
probably knew, certainly more than I suspected!”

The cards are gathered up and put away.

“Before you dwell on this too much, I should say I think Somerset Maugham had it right:
Dying is a very dreary affair. And my advice to you is to have nothing whatever to do
with it.”

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I fell in love with the mechanics of Paul Curry’s “Probability Zero” the first time I read it.
I just didn’t care for the overall effect much. Oh, it’s a classic – no way am I going to say
it isn’t – but it just didn’t do much for me. There are just too many “spectator-makes-
correct-prediction” themes rolling around in my head to get all hung up with another one.
But that devious, devilish method! Well, that I couldn’t get out of my head.

There had to be something else to do with it. There just had to be.

It never hit me until I read John Riggs’ “They Hell Fire” just what that something was.

Now, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: I’m the biggest fan John Riggs has. The
man can do no wrong as far as I’m concerned because, when he’s not hitting the ball out
of the park with a great routine, he’s giving so much to think about the mind feels like it’s
a flowing stream, going this way and that and deeper, always deeper.

In John Riggs’ “They Hell Fire”, the spectator is given the opportunity to choose between
– not differently numbered business cards as in Curry’s original – but business cards with
different emotions written on them. The essence of the effect becomes one of the
spectators showing a “hyper-sympathy”, if you will, leaving behind the one thing they
fear the most.

It’s a gorgeous routine and perfect for strolling (look it up; you’ll be glad you did).

And that routine also got me thinking (and talking to myself out loud, but that’s how I
think and that’s my story and I’m sticking to it). I didn’t need to pull emotional strings
with an audience as I had enough routines for that. I needed something to creep them out.
And something they feared would do it. No, not phobias -- that theme’s been done to
death as far as I was concerned and I wanted to explore another area of the human
condition besides -- but something creepier, heavier.

And Riggs’ routine brought to mind death. Go figure.

I was off and running.

The working is very simple. First you’ll need a stack of about twenty blank business
cards. I don’t recommend using your printed business cards because the writing may not
be legible enough to see readily. Second, you’ll need a thin marker (as opposed to those
heavy thick markers often used to sign playing cards).

Next up, take four of the business cards and write the word “peaceful” on each one with
the marker.

Take three other cards and, on both sides, write a type of death. You can use any words
you like (you’ll find there are a lot of adjectives which describe death in a suitably

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negative light), but for the sake of explanation let’s stick with the three I used in the
above presentation: “sudden”, “agonizing”, and “violent”.

When you’re done, put the stack together so these “double-sided” cards are on the
bottom. Remember which of these “doubles” is on the bottom. On top of these, place
the blank business cards. On top of these, put the four “peaceful” cards.

Put this stack in a wallet or holder of some sort and you’re ready to go. I actually use my
trusty “Stockholder’ (Gregory Wilson’s little gem of an invention), but even a vinyl
wallet used for some packet tricks will suffice.

To perform, bring out the holder and retrieve the stack of cards from it. Put the holder to
the side and bring out the marker.

Hold the business card stack so the double-sided cards are on the bottom. As you talk,
casually look at the top four cards of the stack. This does nothing more or less than
convey subtly to the spectators you’re checking the cards for something.

As you deal the four cards down to the table. Just a quick flash will do it; no need for a
long display here. You should merely be confirming that something is written on the
cards. Mix the cards a little on the table but, again, make no production of this – in other
words, don’t even mention it.

Continue with the presentation, having the spectator select the first card as she thinks
about the type of death. When she picks one, do not play the old “do you want to change
your mind” gambit; since you’re proving a spectator’s certainty, checking and double-
checking them comes across as more annoying than proving.

When she selects the card, write the type of death on it, pick it up, and place it on top of
the stack in your hand.

Proceed with the other two types of death. Do you remember the death that’s written on
the “double” on the very bottom of the stack of cards? That’s the last death you’ll require
the spectator to find. When you’re done, the card on top of the stack should have the
same type of death as the card on the bottom.

At this point, the situation is this: the spectator has left one card on the table that,
unbeknownst to spectators, has the word “peaceful” written on it (a natural thing, since
you laid down four cards all with the word “peaceful” written on it); the stack of cards in
your hand has the “doubles” on the bottom; on the top of this stack of cards are the three
cards the spectator eliminated, which has the different types of death written on one side
of each card and the same “peaceful” death written on the other.

During the revelation of the card the spectator left behind, and the discussion of the
meaning that naturally follows that, simply let the hand holding the stack fall to your side
and, once done, turn the stack over.

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Yep. You go it: that’s the secret move. And it’s a killer (no pun intended, but what the
Hells).

Bring the hand back up as you collect the marker and put it away. At this point, go into
the piece about the spectator not seeing the other cards and your pulling a fast one.
Spread the cards, showing the “doubles” quite plainly, and deal them back to the table.

Reveal the spectator also managed to locate every other kind of death, too, and end on a
cheery note.

Not a whole lot to be said about this one except this: it floors people. I know the method
is simple, but this proves the genius of Paul Curry. And other than the glimpse at the
beginning (when the cards are dealt to the table) very little psychology is used in
wringing the impact out of this one.

The spectator, being human, will do all the psychological work for you.

There is one thing I’d like to mention. You’ll notice I said something about a wallet or
holder. The reason for this is that I do a lot of work with blank business cards, what with
center tears and “out-to-lunches” and the like, and I don’t like grabbing business cards
from this pocket or that. One pocket, one holder. Simplicity is everything.

By using a wallet-cum-holder, I stay organized. By using said thing a certain way, I also
can hand everything out for examination if I am asked to.

Since this has never happened, not once, not ever, the latter benefits are far outweighed
by the former. If you’re antsy, however, then that “ending clean” thing can be a plus to
your confidence if nothing else.

The handling with the wallet/holder is very simple. As you’re ending, pick up the holder
and put the cards in your hand away. As you do, put the cards in the holder so that the
cards that are now “doubles” will be loose in the middle of the holder. Assuming you’re
using one of those little vinyl wallets, you’d do this by beginning to put the cards into the
holder, turning the hand over, and sliding all but the top three cards into the plastic
pocket. Closing the holder, then, these “doubles” will be loose and not in a pocket. If
anyone asks to see the other cards, it’s a simple matter. A little fumbling may be required
depending on your cards and the holder, but it’s to be expected and is not noticed by the
spectators as anything special.

Now, having covered everything to do, let’s take a little stroll down What Not To Do
Lane.

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Don’t mess with that switch.

There’s a tendency we have to sometimes take something simple for granted and figure,
in the hope of making it less detectable, it should be more complicated. Others I’ve
shown this routine to have played and tinkered and the results have been less than
spectacular. One poor soul decided to do some kind of Mexican turnover, flipping the
packet over as he tabled it; it looked fidgety and fishy and all too much as if something
had been done even though, to the spectators’ perceptions, nothing did. Another decided
it would be better to execute that turnover as a Vernon “Through The Fist” flourish
(forgetting that it’s called a “flourish” for a reason); the result was again the look of
something being done, even though there was no reason given to vision to suspect
anything was done.

This switch works because it’s done on the off-beat and it’s done imperceptibly with the
minimum of motion and it’s covered by so much misdirection you could probably not
only turn them over but paint them fluorescent green in the process and still get away
with it. Anything else done to improve on that simple little flip of the cards could be
disastrous. Think long and carefully about messing with it.

It was good enough for Paul Curry, after all, and there’s no telling how many magicians
he fried with this before he tipped it.

Simplicity is everything.

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The Stolen Smell

During which an ancient judge is seen to make the best loopholes.

“I’ve always loved folk tales, especially those of other countries, and the older the better.
One of my favorite folk heroes involves a certain man in ancient Japan by the name of
Ooka Tadasuke. Ooka was a wise and famous judge who never refused to hear a case, no
matter how strange it may have been.

“His strangest case began simply enough: a student had rented a room above a shop were
fried food was sold. The student was a nice young man, but the shop owner was a bitter
miser.

“One day, the shop owner heard the student talking to one of his friends. ‘I hate being so
poor’, the friend said, ‘that the only food we can afford is plain rice!’ The student replied,
‘It’s not so bad for me. Since taste is dependent on smell, I eat my rice while the shop
owner below me is frying his food. The smell comes up to my room and seems to flavor
my rice.’

“Well, the miserly old shop owner was absolutely furious over this. To think that
someone was enjoying his food – even it was just the smell – without paying him for it!
The student, he reasoned, was nothing but a dirty thief!

“The miser went to the student and demanded payment. ‘You must pay me for all the
smells you have stolen from my shop!’ The student couldn’t believe how silly this was.
‘I’m not going to pay a penny! Anyone can smell anything!’

“The shop owner, feeling wronged, went to the court of Judge Ooka and charged the
student with theft before the judge. Now, no one thought Ooka would hear the case – how
stupid it was to think a smell could be stolen – but Ooka consented to hear the case and
render a decision, saying ‘If someone feels strongly enough about his smells to bring the
matter to court, it is my duty to hear him out.’

“And so Ooka heard the man’s evidence and made his decision. ‘The young student is
quite guilty. Taking another’s property is theft and I cannot see that a smell is any
different from any other property.’

“Well, the shop keeper was quite happy with the judge’s decision, but the student was
frightened. Being very poor, he had almost no money and he now had to pay the shop
owner for months of smells! Not being able to pay, he knew he would be going to prison
for a long, long time.

“Ooka asked the student how much money he had. The student reached into his pocket
and pulled out five small coins.”

Five dimes are brought from the pocket and shown to the spectator.

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“The student gave them to the judge. ‘This is all the money I have, your honor, and I
need even that to pay my rent.’

“’Hand me the money’, Judge Ooka ordered, and the student gave him the coins. The
judge then dropped the coins from one hand to the other, jingling them a bit.”

The coins are dropped from one hand to the other and held in the hand.

“Looking at the shop owner, Judge Ooka announced ‘You have been paid in full. Next
case.’ ‘I don’t understand!’ the shop owner exclaimed. ‘I haven’t been paid at all! I was
given no money!’

The hand is opened. The coins are seen to have vanished.

“Judge Ooka looked at him quite sternly. ‘It is my judgment that for justice to be served
the punishment must fit the crime. I have decided that the price of the smell of food shall
be the sound of money.’ He handed the coins back to the student, proudly proclaiming
that, as always, justice had prevailed in the court of Judge Ooka.”

The performer reaches into his pocket and removes the five coins.

The story related above is from the story “Ooka and the Stolen Smell”, written by I. G.
Edmonds and published in his book “Ooka the Wise”. It’s been re-printed as “The Case
of the Marble Monster” by Scholastic Books. If you’re interested in folk tales, especially
those done with no small amount of wit, this small children’s book is a must-have. There
is a treasure trove of nice tales for both adults and children inside.

I include what I did with it here because, after all the death and destruction in the works
before this, it seemed to be a nice idea to leave you and this book on a less grim note.

I also include it here because it’s a great story and a cute effect which audience’s of all
ages seem to appreciate. That’s a nice thing of its own.

Now, let’s get to the magic. Simply, this is a barehanded vanish of five small coins.
Normally, I detest this phrase, but, knowing the effect is so simple, I’m sure you already
have a method you would use for it anyway, so…

“Use your favorite method of vanishing and re-appearing five small coins.”

But if you don’t have a favorite method, fear not, Dear Reader: what follows is the one I
use. It does use a gimmick but you know by now I’m not above such shenanigans and
should not be disappointed. And I’ll cop to this being one of my favorite gimmicks.

Break out a thumb tip.

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Well, that should make the procedure quite obvious to you. I shall now endeavor to make
it even more obvious. Humor me.

Begin with the thumbtip finger palmed in the left hand, the opening held in place by the
ends of the second and third fingers and the end of the thumb tip at the base of those
fingers. Think of it as the Ramsey subtlety minus the coins.

Bring out the five dimes (or other small coins which will fit into the tip) with the right
hand. Show them freely and drop them onto the table or onto a spectator’s hand. At the
appropriate point in the story, pick up the coins one at a time with the tips of the left
fingers and thumb, dropping them singly onto the palm of the right hand.

Shake the right hand a bit, allowing the coins to jingle. With the help of the left fingers,
hold the coins in a small fan between the right thumb and the tips of the right second and
third fingers. Rotate the right wrist a bit, showing both sides of the coins and then hold
the right hand so the back of it faces the spectator.

The next bit happens all as a single movement and takes a little practice.

Bring the left hand over to the right hand as if to take the coins. With the left fingers,
close the small fan of coins as the right thumb pushes the coins into the opening of the
thumb tip. The right thumb continues pushing until the thumb tip is on the right thumb.
Move the right hand away from the left hand as the left hand rotates away so the fingers
are uppermost. The right hand, as it moves, has the fingers slightly spread, palm facing
the spectator, with the thumb (and the tip) pointing directly at the audience.

Let the right hand drop to your side as you open the left hand to show the coins gone. At
this point, if the tip is not firmly on your thumb, push it on with the right fingers.

Bring both hands level in front of you, palms up and fingers spread. Turn both hands
inward at the wrists and clap your hands together. As you continue with the presentation,
put your right hand into your pocket, remove the thumb tip, and empty the five coins into
your hand. Bring the coins out in your hand, leaving the thumb tip behind.

Finish by dropping the coins back onto the table or the spectator’s hand.

See? Piece of cake.

And I should leave well enough alone, but a word to the wise is most sufficient, so…

Don’t forget the first rule of using a thumb tip: keep the hands moving. Of course, the
second rule of using a thumb tip is don’t keep the hands moving so erratically and
dramatically the audience thinks you’re having some sort of spasm or seizure. The
movements I described above are sufficient; the thumb tip will go unnoticed, especially
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considering it is in play really for such a short period of time (while it’s present through
out this, the heat only begins when the coins are vanished – the time between that act and
the ditching of the tip is very small).

It seems I also cannot describe a trick using a thumb tip anymore without saying this, so
please bear with me: I make the long, arduous climb upon the soap box with a reason.

I know a lot of magicians who have put aside the thumb tip because it has been exposed
so often. Yes, “The Masked Magician” exposed it on a television show. Yes, Penn and
Teller have exposed it on television and stage shows both. Yes, an uncountable number
of dealers have exposed it in one form or the other for decades.

And you can still get away with using it.

I’m not going to go into the whole exposure thing; others better than I have covered the
topic more thoroughly than I ever will. But I bring it up for this reason:

The thumb tip is maligned because of all the exposure, but it is still one of our most
powerful tools. When used properly and with care – and when the audience least expects
it – it is blindingly powerful.

Audiences that have seen it exposed see it used primarily for one or two things (possibly
a third: psychic surgery, but let’s stick to the subject for a bit): vanishing a silk or a
cigarette. That’s it. They have, by and large, never seen it used for a cut and restored
rope. They have never seen it used for a bill switch. They have never seen it for a card-in-
fruit. They have never seen it used for a penetration.

Or, to be accurate, they have seen it; they just don’t know they’ve seen it.

They’ve never seen it for vanishing a small bunch of coins.

Done properly, they never will. Oh, but the small bunch of coins will vanish anyway.

I know I’m preaching to the choir for the most part, but to the one or two who read this
and think poorly of the beloved thumb tip, I urge you to think again. If you change your
mind, you’ll find it worth it.

Off the soapbox and, by way of apologizing for those who already know what I’ve said,
let me offer something to think about:

The Senada Gimmick.

I put that in caps because this gimmick is, like its thumb tip cousin, is a powerful tool
when used properly. Unlike the thumb tip, it hasn’t yet earned what I call my “car-key
importance” (that is, something which is as important for me to have in my pocket as I
head out the door as my car keys), but it’s awfully close. Typically thought of as a device

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to make sponge balls vanish and appear, the Senada gimmick can be used for other
things, including bill switches.

I sometimes use it for this routine if I have it handy (a bad pun and totally unintentional, I
assure you). With the Senada gimmick, if you have it in the right hand and the coins on
the right palm, it’s a simple matter to allow the coins to fall behind the gimmick as the
right hand apparently pours (not places) the coins into the left hand.

For now, I’ll leave the exact workings to those familiar with the gimmick. Why? Because
if you’re not familiar with the gimmick, haven’t played with it enough to be comfortable
with it, it can be a bit frustrating trying to make it do something it wasn’t designed for. If
you are familiar with all the little touches the gimmick requires, then the vanish and
reappearance of the coins is a simple thing indeed.

Besides, the work truly isn’t worth it. The effect is just as powerful with one gimmick or
the other: you lose or gain nothing. However, as a mental exercise and a change in pace, I
leave you with the idea. Play as you will.

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A Final Word
Wherein is given parting thoughts and thoughts of parting.

Thus we end the third volume of my thoughts and labors.

The strange journey becomes longer, but hopefully it becomes shorter as well.

Perhaps the time we spend together makes the voyage more pleasant as we traverse our
paths.

But surely I thank you for spending time with me. I exist here because of you and I am
grateful to you for that.

Maybe the journey will continue on.

I hope it does: traveling with you is a singular pleasure.

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