The Disappearing Act

Sir Walcott A. Hall was not just your another Las Vegas magician. It is said he actually went to study with the shamans partaking in various ritual medicine ceremonies, seeing the gore detail with holocaust eyes and coming back healed. Ever since, he could actually make twice the money on street with various feat of manifestation.

Alfred was attending a Jeffersonian dinner at some obscure Scotting castle. His father was an entomologist by birth and his mother taught him Greek among sporadic German.

“Oh I don’t think Musk taking over was that bad, Harold,” waved her hand Lady Dictum. “I mean chances are…”

“Oh Aunt Sally stop it,” cut off her niece from from her yet 1,001th faux pas of the year where she brung the Iron Man’s family issues at the table. Of course, when Count Lord Albatross was at the table along with other dignitaries and diplomat the last thing Christie wanted her aunt to make a buffon out of herself.

“Oh com’on hun. It’s not as if I am being violently egregious. Who is he fucking now anyways?”

God I wish I could just disappear. Alfred thought as his mother mentioned further how the butler’s nails were so long, but she could not do anything about it back home. Her fear was she might throw a rock at the LGBT hornet community for Patrick was pretty open about his preference.

“And then O’Henry’s squirrels. Oh why does it have shit all over our yard and make a mess for our poor Livunia. She already has her hands full with the laundry and what not.” She went on her merry way.

____________

Alfredy was highly tipsy next day when he took the center stage next evening matinee. The crowd cheered on to a town’s wake from the morning caws which turned into hoot. After the initial menu was over, Alfred slowly began his key performance. Having eaten a rose and spewing the remainder on a candle which became a dove he thought he will experiment a variation of a routine.

He made a flourish, bowed and then took a handkerchief out. He waved over bird-cage containing a pair of dove and made some hand gestures and removed the clothing to show it empty. After a scattered applause he slammed his other hand over it and poof! The cage disappeared into atoms among a few puff of smoke and dust. The particles were just precautionary distraction serving as wool as the real key was to pull box and hoping the collapsing mechanism did not jam. It usually brings a lot of electricity in the crowd if not even waking up the good ol’ Japes who drowsed off like an abbey-lubber. But to his dismay the reaction was negligible if not nil.

Then, he pulled off his best stunt yet. He took one of his arms out and part by part put himself in a suitcase with torso still attached after he put away his other limbs along with the leg in the pair of boots inside a violin like case. As he slowly disappeared into the case the curtain would pull and the crowd would erupt into a burst as the curtain puller would remove his hat to the Great Magician himself taking a final bow.

Except this time the reaction was very muted.

Was it in his head? He thought. Was he going crazy? Clamoring for some invisible accolade which didn’t exist.

“Hey Mickey…”

“What’s up Al?”

“So how as the reception like?”

“Great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Yeah? Cuz I thought there was something wrong with the room or something. You know noise cancellation, sound control..”

“No, no.. you are good.”

Mickey was his manager for eight years. Alfred wanted to press further, but he has to first change. The ickiness of the makeup was making him irritated.

As he went to the backstage, he noticed Cassandra left her scarf and the umbrella and was missing. Alfred thought of removing the cake himself. He sat and looked at the mirror as he removed one flake of his skin after another. It was a tedious process.

He further hated looking at himself.

A knock broke his reverie. It was Mickey again.

“Hey numbers look great. Our Facebook is lit. Get some sleep and I will call you tomorrow morning.”

Mickey assured and also quickly disappeared. Of course, ‘numbers look great’ can mean several things. Alfred thought. Even a 12k is a good enough for him nowadays.

Alfred changed and went to the main hallway towards Exit leading to his limousine. There was not a soul. He strolled past the double doors and turned left to enter another passage which opened up to a sleek black stretched limousine under a canopy. The door was wide open. He got in and did not wait for the driver. However, the vehicle started moving automatically after a few seconds of delay. The reflection of the city lights filled his window as the car drove down against a backdrop of European house music. He instructed the driver to stop at Claribi’s, a bar near his apartment over the microphone. He will take a few swig and then dawdle to his home next without the need for a assistance.

He tottered and stepped outside and as he walked about he could sense the zillion sting of eyes due to familiarity of his face. Except he also felt no one paid attention this celebrity hood as everyone went about their day. Then again, was he actually too drunk to be drunK? He wondered.

He somehow slid past the front gate with the gigantic Samoan bouncer checking his ID behind glasses. He went towards the counter and sat. Larry wasn’t here today. Instead, there was another guy in dyed hair and Mickey Mouse t-shirt with lot of flairs to appear as a cockatoo.

“I will be right there hun.”He pointed towards him. A woman came and took a seat by Alfred as he turned around and also noticed. The lady paid no attention to him, not even a faint smile much less a greeting.

“Hi, I will be Charles…” the bartender came and said in a lilting voice with genuine warmth and smile: “But you can call be C or Charlie for short. I knohhh whachuyar thinking. How can Charlie be short when C.. but anyhoo that’s another story.” He giggled and broke out some exaggerated gestures as if he is doing standup. “Anyway, sugar, what can I get youuuuu?”

“Oh just a…” The lady seemed to point to a pineapple vodka martini.

“On the rocks..” The waiter whispered as she mouthed and mimicked back with ‘Yeah’. You would think they are friends on Facebook.

“Hey…” Alfred raised his finger.

“I will be right back.”

But of course time passed by. Alfred was not sure if he was feeling sick or buzzed already, but his body heat started increasing. Then he looked at his watch. 5 minutes passed by but Charles or Charlie and not C for short was not back and he even disappeared behind the kitchen a few times to bring back some reuben sandwiches for two fat businessmen that for a second Alfred thought two penguins came to dine.

Alfred waved a few times. Insecurity was not something he didn’t deal with frequently. He had low self-esteem issues despite being a born showman. Of course, the baroness gave his son the best education and he excelled in rhetoric to debate with Eton scholars. But despite his success he never really broke out his shell and shown his real self and courage.

This occasion was no different either. He kept quiet, eyeing the beautiful dame in flowing blonde hair with a Kate Spade bag in a summer attire with floral pattern and high heels. He avoided all eye contact and the lady seemed to pay no attention any longer and was scrolling her iPhone with her long nails. But Alfred was getting impatient. Charles seemed to take forever. He waved at him again. The lady paid her tabs and disappeared, much less paid attention to her neighbor. Ten, fifteen and even twenty minutes passed by but Charles did not come back.

“What’s the FUCKING MATTER? Are you FUCKING BLIND? CAN’T YOU SEE ME?” Alfred thundered.

The whole room seemed to freeze for a second. The bartender seemed to look stunned and then went over to slide the credit card back in the leather folder. For years, Alfred kept this rage nurtured like a pet inside him which broke out today. His face was red and he could not believe he just created a scene here. He quickly put his jacket and briskly walked towards the door and went to the street.

_____

As Alfred crossed the street, a taxi almost hit him over. He was having a “helluva bad day”. He thought. He somehow crossed the street without being run over and then walked over to the bus stop. An old lady in Vietnamese hat sat stone-cold like a statue. She paid no attention to him. Alfred thought he found his little peace of mind as he took out his phone and looked at the notifications. There was only one from Mike which liked his event. It had 12 likes but 19k views. He put his phone away and looked at the lady. She paid no attention to him and seemed to in such a trance staring straight ahead as if to pierce the wall with laser like Bodhidharma.

Alfred called his mother. But it went straight to his voicemail. He looked at the lady a few times and upon receiving no feedback he felt his picket and plucked out the phone. Same. No further notifications. Three minutes later the bus came and suddenly Alfred noticed there was a Hispnaic young male adult oversized with curly hair and a Steve Rhodes t-shirt and a shorty skinny girl with backpack in glasses with her hair covering all her face scrolling her phone and another girl with dark hair who was just chewing her gum. The bus door opened and the lady was already in line. And soon the others followed suit. One by one entered and the door almost hit him as Already climbed up the single stair and slid 5 dollars in the machine. The driver maintained no eye contact and kept his steely reserve facing forward behind glasses. Alfred went to the back and sat down.

Twenty minutes later he pulled the cord as the bus approached the side street of his apartment. It was late. Suddenly Alfred noticed the bus was completely empty. One by one they must have all dropped to their stop.

“Hey! Hey!” You missed my stop. Alfred banged the window. The driver did not seem to react. As he went to the front and punched the glass barrier, the friendly reminder to stay on his seat came on. After a solid fifteen minute ride, the bus finally came to stop at the station. The driver opened the door and walked out. Alfred cursed him more and then walked out the back door.

Where is the driver?

He thought. He seemed to vanish. Alfred got his phone out to open Uber. But his phone only had 5% of battery left. Still he placed a call. But he knew his phone might die and the nearest driver was about 5 miles away. So he decided to walk.

The road had very few street lamps. He noticed. He wasn’t sure what part of the town he was in. As he kept on walking he noticed there road had rocks and gravel slide down on both sides. It was almost the bus that dropped him at the station which was close to a railtrack. He felt he was going the wrong direct- away from the city. As Alfred kept walking he was confident he was slowly sliding past the city towards the desolated area picked up by a railtrack.

______

Alfred was now really confused. If he turned around, what if it turned out he was going in the right direction already but now he is facing the wrong way? And he kept repeating these logistics in his head till he thought he would go crazy. The moon shone brightly above in full volume. Alfred instead thought of walking through the fence which seemed to have seemed to have lost some of its interlacing as if eaten by acid. He crouched and swerved his back under it and found himself landing in someone’s backyard.

It was a very well maintained imposing mansion in the neck of the woods. He roamed about the romanesque architraves and opened the heavy brass iron door handles of what seemed to be straight out stable of “Medieval Times” on Beach Boulevard. He heard some argument and there was quite a scene taking off. A bald man was pointing a gun at another young person dressed entirely in sweatpants under hood.

“I told you brother. We ran out of it. The deal went bust before we could chip in and ship the load elsewhere.”

“That’s not how it works, Damien. You know that. We know that. Cartel knows it.”

“So what you gonna do? Just shoot me?”

“Without the slightest compunction.” Alfred was started to the core as a loud report pierced the room’s acoustics. He did not want to turn if the footsteps drew attention. The man shot another time. Alfred looked away, covered his face and squinted eyes. The black kid limped like a ragdoll on the white sofa which slowly got soaked into a cherry red wine paint of blood.

Alfred did not think twice and kept running. Slowly the empty street started to morph into more noise before it blended into a full blown hustle and bustle of the city as people pored out of every corner. As he kept running, he almost bumped into several pedestrians from opposing directions. But everyone was busy in their own lanes and no one seemed to pay heed.

However, as he kept running he discovered the city again whittle down to suburbs. Again it became quiet.