I Can Do Magic

Before I became a teacher I worked as a magician and I truly believed in magic. I did children’s parties and some shopping centre shows on school holidays. I performed under the name "The Amazing Jane." I had an assistant called Eddie, he was a short middle-aged man that reeked of cigarettes and stale urine. He was surly, balding and obese, but when we were on stage we sparkled every bit as much as our tight fitting sequined gowns. In the Spring of 98 we decided to add a new trick to the show. You’ve probably seen it a thousand times, the assistant climbs into a box and the magician sticks several swords through the box and yet the assistant emerges unharmed. We didn’t have much money so we used a cardboard box we found behind Coles and the swords were nothing more than sharpened sticks. My belief in magic didn’t prevent Eddie’s on stage death, it certainly didn’t prevent the arterial spray that covered most of the children at the party. But it did ensure I felt no guilt or remorse for Eddie’s death or for leaving his battered corpse in storm water drain. The point of the story is that magic will make you smile but it will also lead you to kill, kill and kill again and again.