The Great Squeakdini—formerly known as Squeak the Clown—a.k.a
Squeak Jablowski, was wowing the crowd in Apache Flats with his
magic show. Readers new to this adventure should know that
Hooter first got acquainted with Squeak a couple of decades ago
when Squeak lost his nerve for riding bulls, switched to bull
fighting, then was so overcome by fear at seeing a bull that he
simply disappeared. By the time Squeak flashed back into
Hooter’s world he was one of the most popular children’s
entertainers in the Southwest. But, he aspired to become a
world-class magician. Squeak enlisted Hooter to help him put
together a local theatre, the props and management so that he
could practice his routine.
Each performance drew a larger crowd than the previous one. It
was rumored that at the finale Squeak would even attempt one of
Houdini’s classic illusions: hiding an elephant.
Actually, it was more than a rumor. In the very beginning,
Squeak told Hooter to build the necessary stage and secure the
requisite materials. “But I don’t know as I can come up with an
elephant on such short notice,” said Hooter.
“It doesn’t have to be an elephant,”
said Squeak. “Just something alive, easy for the audience to
recognize, and big. As my manager, I’m sure you’ll think of
something.”
Squeak proved to be a master
showman, equally adept at presenting his stage illusions as well
as baffling demonstrations of sleight of hand: Squeak picked up
a fishing pole, dipped his hand into a bait bucket, attached a
worm and flipped the line out over the audience. When he reeled
it back in the folks were amazed to see a goldfish at the end of
the line, which Squeak deftly unhooked and placed into a large
clear bowl. By the time he was done, there were at least 10 of
the critters swimming merrily in the tank.
He made Hooter appear—decked out
in Tuxedo with his hair and beard slicked back—from a recently
empty faux-outhouse, assembled moments before in front of the
audience,
He let Aunt Pinky shuffle cards, choose three, and then told her
exactly what they were. He made Nelda Isselfrick’s heirloom
diamond ring disappear then reappear inside a fresh plum, which
was inside Norvis Underwood’s pocket, and Norvis swore he’d
never seen it.
Next, the Great Squeakdini
motioned to Hooter who picked up a small hinged wooden crate. He
lifted it over his head, then dangled it by the handle from one
finger. Hooter popped the latch and showed the crowd the empty
interior; closed it, lifted it again then set it on the stage.
“I need a volunteer interested in
making a thousand dollars,” beamed Squeak. As hands raised, he
added, “I need a volunteer who feels strong enough to lift this
box from the stage, even just an inch from the stage.”
Seeing that Izzie Franklin was
the largest and notoriously strongest of anyone for miles
around, he was an easy choice. Izzie approached the box with the
satisfaction of man already spending easy money. He reached
down, grabbed the handle on top with a finger as Hooter had
done. Nothing. He pulled harder, still nothing.
“By all means, use the handles on
the sides if you’d like,” smiled Squeak.
Izzie leaned over the box,
grabbed the handles and lifted for all he was worth, still
nothing. He huffed, puffed, turned red, grunted and groaned.
Finally, the box didn’t move, but the handles did, tearing
themselves from the bolts that held them. In fact, if it wasn’t
for the front row acting in self-defense, Izzie would have done
a backward somersault off the stage. As the laughter died,
Squeak said, “Really, it’s not fair. I forgot to give you the
magic word. Again sir, please try, but only after saying hocus-cadabra.”
Duly embarrassed, Izzie repeated
the word disgustedly. Rather than try to pick up the box,
though, he gave it a mighty kick. The box sailed backward,
ricocheted off a wall, and then spun innocently. Again, the
crowd went nuts.
Next, the Great Squeakdini told
the audience he’d demonstrate one of the oldest, most classic
illusion in all of magic—the three card Monte. He caught Lonnie
Johnson rolling his eyes in disgust.
“Why sir, you seem unimpressed.
What’s the problem?”
“Nothing, go on.”
“No sir, I won’t. Perhaps you’ve
had a bad experience in the past.”
“He’s had lots of them,” hooted
Izzie.
“Not like that last little
display of yours,” grumped Lonnie. Once he realized everyone was
waiting for an explanation, he said, “Well sir, that there’s
just a carnival trick where you move your hands so fast nobody
can keep up. That’s not real magic like the rest of what you’ve
been doing.”
“True, some carnival workers
offer a version of this,” beamed Squeak as he effortlessly
fanned the deck of cards in his hands. “True also that some
think they know what they’re doing but don’t. I’ll make you a
deal, Mr. Johnson. Keep and open mind. I promise you I won’t be
fast with my hands at all, and when I’m finished if you’re still
dissatisfied I’ll give you your money back.”
“But the show’s free shouted,”
Izzie.
“I mean this money,” said Squeak,
reaching into his pocket to retrieve Lonnie Johnson’s billfold,
which Lonnie hadn’t realized was missing. The crows went wild,
but nothing compared to the applause as Squeak’s hands seemed to
move in slow motion with just three cards—a couple of deuces and
the Queen of Spades. He’d move the cards and drop them
face-down, ever so slowly and gracefully it seemed. All anyone
had to do was guess where the Queen was. Nobody could do it.
Finally, Squeak flipped all of the cards face-up again. The
deuces and the Queen were in the same position as when he’d
started. He flipped them face-down again, then immediately
face-up. Now all of the cards were queens. The crowd was
stunned. Even Lonnie stood up and bowed slightly in respect to
the magician.
Poof!
A couple more classics, then
Squeak announced: “Finally, I’m going to share with you an
illusion made famous by the Great Harry Houdini himself. Few
will speculate on how he accomplished it, and no one can know
for sure. But, Harry Houdini made an elephant disappear at the
famous Hippodrome Theatre in New York. There, in front of
thousands of people, Houdini had a trainer lead the elephant
into a giant wooden box, turned the box, and poof, both the
trainer and the elephant were gone.”
The buzz of anticipation
commenced.
“Back when we first started
planning this show, I asked Hooter to build a stage, the box and
also to get and elephant,” explained Squeak. “Hooter said he
didn’t know if he could find an elephant. I just told him to
find something large and alive.” There were a few chuckles.
“Come to think of it, I never did ask Hooter what he came up
with, so I’ll be as surprised as the rest of you,” chuckled
Squeak, brimming with the confidence of a high school senior.
“If you’ll join me in what used to be the backyard of this
magnificent old home, we shall see.”
No one would have been surprised to see an elephant. After all,
Hooter was the one who got his hands on a camel for the
Christmas pageant. He was the one well versed in white
armadillos and other mythic creatures. In this case, though,
Hooter had come up emptier than a hobo’s wallet at a train
station. Between animal health rules, freight costs and paltry
supply, there just weren’t any to be had.
Then Hooter had an epiphany: Old
Teddy.
That was what Hooter called the
retired rodeo bull Aunt Pinky had purchased a few months hence
with the notion of breeding and selling rough stock. Teddy
grazed and lounged around Hooter’s place, gentler than rain
drops on deerskin gloves. Teddy was a giant, though, even by
bucking bull standards—massive and tiger striped with
bucket-sized ears. Whether it was the ears or the overall size,
Hooter guessed that’s how the bull had come by his rodeo name:
Dumbo’s Revenge.
Now, Hooter knew Squeak had left
the rodeo because he’d turned scared of bulls, but he figured
that was a lifetime ago. Plus, he figured, it wasn’t like Squeak
was going up against the bull. Cousin Charlie would have Teddy
on a halter some distance away. Besides, there was no way Hooter
could know that it was Dumbo’s Revenge, in his prime, who had
driven Squeak Jablowski into the soggy arena at Steamboat
Springs and sent him over the edge.
As soon as Charlie led Teddy on to the stage, though, Hooter
knew something was amiss. There was a look in Teddy’s eye Hooter
had never seen before, and the Great Squeakdini seemed to become
a lot less. Quietly and mechanically, Squeak stuttered,
“W-w-well he certainly s-s-seems large as an e-e-elephant.” A
few chuckles. “H-H-Hooter, if you’ll just have you assistant,
w-w-well…” He motioned toward the ramp leading into a giant
wooden crate on wheels. Hooter gave Charlie the high sign and
Charlie led a cooperative Teddy inside.
“N-n-n-now, Hooter, if you’ll just c-c-close the gate, I
m-m-mean the door and t-t-turn the ch-ch-chute, I mean the box
around.”
As they’d rehearsed, sans
elephant or bull, Hooter and a couple of other assistants pushed
the crate slowly around until the door was once again facing the
audience. Also, as they’d rehearsed Hooter swung open the gate
with a flourish. Unlike they’d rehearsed, though, instead of an
empty box, the audience was looking at Charlie, still holding
the halter and Teddy.
“It didn’t work,” shouted
someone. “They’re still there,” echoed someone else.
“Oh yes it did,” said Hooter. “As
you can plainly see, the Great Squeakdini has disappeared.” |
