Incidents in the Life of a Magician's Assistant:
Discovery and Experimentation


by Vaughan

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I have been a magician's assistant since my ninth birthday,
when I was cut in two in front of an audience of friends and
their parents. Since that day I have assisted fifteen or sixteen
magicians of various levels of competence and in the process
experienced just about every illusion and effect so many times it
would be difficult, if not impossible, to count. I've been sawn
every which way, divided at just about every place you can think
of, vanished completely or in part and penetrated by every sharp
and not so sharp implement you can name. Of course, each magician
does his illusions differently so, for example, dad, my first
magician, cut me in half just above the hips, but several of the
others cut me in half just below the ribs.

I discovered by accident, at the age of sixteen, that all this
magic was having an effect on me off-stage as well as on-stage. I
did not have as much experience then, but I had spent seven years
doing an assortment of standard illusions, when the effects began
to show.

Me and my boyfriend at the time, Jim, were messing about in
the kitchen and, as usual, this lead to a passionate embrace and
some deep kissing and the outside world faded into nothing in my
perceptions. Jim had steered me so that the small of my back was
pressed against the edge of the kitchen table. After a few
minutes of exploring both our mouths with our tongues, I became
aware that something was wrong. I tried to identify the source of
the wrongness without letting Jim know that anything was amiss.
My body seemed alright until I noticed a numbness at my waist. I
release my grip on Jim with one hand, while continuing to hug him
with my other arm. Using my free hand, I felt my waist, where I
found that I was being cut in half by a large kitchen knife that
had been carelessly left on the edge of the table. The back of my
waist had separated so that the back half of my upper torso
rested on the surface of the table and my legs were only
supported by my heels and the front half of my waist. As Jim
hugged and kissed me he had not noticed that I was gradually
receding across the tabletop with my legs straddled by his. I was
thinking that this was a situation very similar to being cut in
half on stage, but being cut from the back instead of the front. I
continued to be pressed into the blade of the knife and was
enjoying being slowly cut into two by the passion of my boyfriend.
Suddenly two horrific thoughts came to me, firstly, "What if
Jim doesn't like the idea of me being cut in half in normal life?"
and secondly, "What happens when the cut is complete, will
Jim be hurt by the knife?"


Afraid that Jim might be cut I pushed him away. This extra
force finished the cut. My legs from the waist down fell to the
floor, ending up with my hips under the table. My upper half sat
on the table behind the knife. Jim stumbled back and came to rest
against the cooker. The first thing he said was an inarticulate
expression of surprise and frustration at my rejection, then his
jaw dropped as what he saw and what he thought he should see
tried to match up. I waited for him to say something. After a few
burbles, he said, "This is just a trick, isn't it?" as
if he expected mum and dad to come and tell him that it was just
an illusion. I had not told him that dad did real magic on me. He
had been in the wings for a couple of shows, even helping move
props, but he still did not know the when I was sawn in half on
stage it was happening for real.

I smiled at him and moved the knife out of the way. "Come
here and show me how I can sit here on the table while my legs
lie on the floor and I'll tell you it is just a trick," I
replied sarcastically. Then the significance of the situation hit
me, I had been cut in two without effort or pain (if you don't
count sitting down on the floor suddenly). "Of course, I've
been cut in two, it's what I've been doing since I was nine,
being cut in two. But it's never happened off-stage before. Don't
just stand there staring. It's the first time this has happened
to me and I need help to sort out what happened and get me back
together."

Jim came forward warily as if I might explode or, worse, we
might be caught and he would get the blame. He circled me twice,
stopping every three or four steps to look at me in complete
disbelief and look at the blank underside of the kitchen table.

"I don't know how you did it, but it looks very good. I
can't see any hole in the table or any room in the table to hide
your lower half," he observed.

"That my dear Watson," I sneered, "is because
there is no hole and my lower half is not concealed. It's lying
there in full view."

"They can't be your legs," he stated quite
reasonably.

"And why not, pray?" I asked. For seven years I had
been cut in half in a succession of boxes at least once a month,
sometimes three or four times in a week, and while I knew no one
else of my age had ever been divided, it seemed perfectly natural
to me that my hips might be farther from my waist than was usual
for a girl of my age.

"Those legs must be fake!" Jim accused.

"Those legs are mine and have been since I was born."
I was getting angry that Jim would not believe me when I told him
and he could see it.

Jim squatted down and grabbed my ankles. "Hey, what are
you doing?" I screeched, "you'll ruin my skirt!"
and kicked out with my legs. He obvious felt the kick because he
dropped my ankles as if they were red hot.

He had dragged my lower half half-way to the door. Finally he
was beginning to realize that what I told him was genuinely the
truth, but he was not entirely convinced yet.

"I want to try something," he said. Jim squatted
down over my legs so that I could not move them. I could feel the
pressure of his buttocks on the fronts of my calves, but I could
not see what he was up to. The first thing he did was to take off
my sandals and then my short white socks, leaving my feet bare. I
knew what was going to happen next, but the suspense was terrible.

"OK, If your going to tickle my feet, get on with it!"
I insisted.

"Great, but I wanted to surprise you with the timing to
make sure these were really your feet," he said, then
commenced the most fiendish bout of tickling I had ever
experience. I think he wanted to take advantage of the fact that
I was not within arms reach to twist his ears which is how I
usually got him to stop.


"Heheheheheee ... . . haahee ..... stop it! hoho ... Stop
it or I'll ... haha ... scream! .... heheeeheeeee.." I
laughed. My entire body, both halves, convulsed, My shaking legs
nearly unbalanced him, and eventually my upper torso toppled on
the table, narrowly missing the knife.

Sound of my head hitting the table top made Jim turn and
enquire if I was hurt.

I told him I was not hurt, but I wanted my legs back. He
gently lifted my legs and once he had got them on to the table he
pushed their severed end against the severed end of my upper body.
All he succeeded in doing was pushing me across the table until
my head hung over the opposite edge.

"What am I doing wrong? Why aren't you going back together?"
Jim pleaded.

"How should I know? This is the first time this has
happened to me! Do you think I make a habit of accidentally being
cut in half?" I snapped.

After a pause he said, "Well, no. But you have had it
done to you dozens of times. I thought that might have given you
some idea. How are you restored on stage? Or is that just a trick?"

I thought for a moment. "Let's see," I started,
"When I'm sawn in two, I'm in a box. For the buzz saw, Dad
just drapes a cloth over me." I interrupted myself, "Can
you shift me back onto the table, Jim. I'm getting a crick in my
neck," I continued, "For the disembodied princess I'm
inside the cabinet, the same for the zigzag and Dad covers my
hand with the cloth when he re-attaches them after the wrist
guillotine. In each case no-one can see what is happening, not
even me." I snapped my fingers and exclaimed, "That
must be it!"


"What?" he asked. "Do you know how to put
yourself back together? because just at the moment I would rather
have you whole." He had positioned me on the table and I
could feel his hand moving up the inside of my thigh.

I leaned up on one elbow and reached over to my lower half to
stop his wandering hand. "Not now! What if Mum or Dad came
in? Anyway, get a tea-towel and when I'm back in one piece, we
can go and do some experimenting in my room. I want to try this
out, see how far it goes."

Jim grabbed a towel and handed it to me. I used my hands to
make sure I was lined up properly, then draped the towel over the
cut and concentrated. After a second or two I could feel the
numbness, that I knew to be characteristic of a cut, fade. When
all sensation returned I whipped away the cloth to reveal my
unblemished mid-riff.

Jim looked disappointed. "Is that all there is?" he
asked as if he had expected smoke or something.


"That's all!" I said with some finality, "but
come with me and we'll see if we can't find a better way." I
slid off the table and picking up the knife and the cloth I lead
him to my bedroom.

When we got to my room. I positioned the chair I used at my desk
at the end of the my bed and straddled it and the leant back so
my bare waist was over the gap between bed and chair.

"OK," I said, "let's see if it happens again,
but don't press too hard, I don't want a gash in my side."


Jim took the knife and tentatively approached my waist. He
rested the cool blade against the left side of my waist while
standing on my right. With minimal pressure against my side, I
felt the numbness begin, so I know it was working, but the
numbness felt different. I encouraged Jim to apply more pressure,
which he did. The knife passed through me like a warmed knife
through frozen butter, slowly but steadily. When the knife
emerged from my right side, Jim looked at it as if it were a
bloodied weapon, even though it was as clean as it had started.

I reached back with my arms and pulled my upper body up my bed,
and sat my lower body up on the chair. I rolled over and pushed
my upper torso upright. Using my arms as legs I walked to the end
of the bed to look at my severed lower half. I asked Jim to push
the chair closer so I could see and feel better. When my cut-off
waist was comfortably within reach I touched the skin that seemed
to form where the cut had occurred. the skin felt like any other
part of my skin, but the feeling of being touched on the numb
skin was most peculiar, the nearest I can get to an everyday
feeling is indigestion, but it feels more pleasant than that.

"That's great!" I exclaimed, "Hand me the towel
so I can try cutting myself in half!"

I hand-stepped onto the chair and rested the cut end of my
upper torso on the disconnected waist. The general numbness
across my waist felt as if it belonged. I took the towel from Jim,
which I quickly rubbed round the cut causing it to vanish. The
feeling of becoming whole was good, like the taste of
strawberries in an odd way.

I stood up and pushed the chair away. I leant over and picked
up the knife, holding it against my left side. I stood straight
and found my balance, then, taking the knife handle in my right
hand and pressing the back of the tip of the blade with my right
hand, I pushed the knife through my waist. I did not feel a thing,
not even a numbness, I realized then that who did the cutting
made a difference to the feeling. When the cut was complete, with
exaggerated care I handed the knife to Jim, who was gaping open
mouthed. I then deliberately feel back on the bed. As I fell my
to halves separated, so I landed with my head just below my
pillow and my knees over the end of the bed.

"Hey, Jim, that was fun, you should try it," I
shouted.

"Not on your life," he responded, "besides, you're
used to it, what with being in the magic show and all that. Come
to think of it, isn't that where the cut goes when you are cut in
half?"

"Yes, you're right." After a pause, I continued,
"I wonder where else I can be cut. That was so easy I want
to do some more. Let's see if the cuts for the zigzag and center cut
happen as easily. Hand me that knife I'm going to see if I can do
the lower cut which is only just above my hips."


A little struggle saw my upper torso resting on the end of the
bed behind my legs and hips, knife in hand. I addressed the
portion I intended to cut, only to realize the my skirt was going to be in the way. I unzipped the skirt and let it slip down
to pool at my feet. I would have stepped out of it but I was
unsure that it was a good idea not being accustomed to moving
free-standing legs. With the target bared I applied the knife and
removed a three inch slice of belly from the top of my legs, no
numbness and no pain.

"Are you sure we should be doing this? What if your mum
comes in?" Jim objected.

I said that mother always knocked and I could stall her long
enough shove me in as many parts as I am under the quilt so I can
re-assemble myself.

"Next I think I'll try the upper cut from the zigzag
woman, just under my ribs." I said, starting to take off my
blouse. I did not have big breasts, but what I did have was
restrained by a bra, so I did not feel embarrassed, but Jim looked
as though he did. I felt for my bottom rib and lined up the knife.
The now warm blade touched my flesh but I did not have the proper
leverage to force it through, So I asked Jim, who objected that
he could not get a proper shot at it because the bar and bed
clothes were in the way. I pondered this for a few moments and
then did a headstand on the bed giving the necessary access to
the point I wanted to have cut. Jim objected to me being of the
bed in case I slipped and ended up putting the knife somewhere it
was not meant to go. I allowed him to lift my onto the floor
where I did another headstand, while he cut a two inch slice of
belly from my upturned torso. The cut felt numb in the same way
that it had when he cut my waist, but subtly different from
the numbness I felt when dad cut me and different again from the
numb feeling when I had been cut in the kitchen.

I rolled back upright and asked Jim how far this thing went.
He told me he did not know, while he lifted my chest head and
arms onto my desk. He also commented how much lighter I was
without my belly and legs attached.

"Well," I reasoned, "The cuts we've made so far
match cut that have already been done to me onstage during
illusions, so lets try the cuts from the other illusions."

"I'm game if you are, now we've come this far," he
said. He seemed much happier now that I had come up with some
potential reason for this bizarre ability. "Which illusions
are those and where exactly do the cuts go?"

"Let me see, we done the cut for sawing in half, the
zigzag and the center cut. The only other illusions I have done
are the mis-made girl, the disembodied princess, vanishing in
parts, levitation and the wrist guillotine. There are no cuts or
blades in the vanish or the levitation, so that leaves cuts at
knee, neck and wrist." I pondered whether this was wise for
a moment, then thought 'If it can happen accidentally, I had
better be aware of what can happen so I can stop it occurring in
public, which would be embarrassing'.


I took the knife from Jim and quickly hacked off my left-hand at
the wrist. The hand dropped to the floor and lay there for a
moment. When I tried to flex it, it actually moved. I immediately
thought about hacking my right hand off, only to realize I had no
left hand to hold the knife.

"Your turn, Jim," I said, causing my legs to sit
down on the end of the bed. "Go and chop my legs off at the
knees" I crossed my right knee over my left.

Jim took the knife and approached my lower half circumspectly,
as if it might kick. He looked at my right knee and asked, "Is
that above the knee, below the knee or through it?"

I knew that the blades for both the mismade girl and the
disembodied princess went through above the knee, but I was still
feeling experimental and wanted to know if the knife would go
where no blade had been before, so I said, "Try below the
knee first." He did but as the pressure of blade against
upper calf increased, I knew it was not going to happen and
quickly told him stop and try above the knee. A short time later,
Jim brought my trim lower legs to inspect and I threw them the
short distance to the bed.


"Ok, that seems to work just fine. Now cut my head off!"
I instructed.

He paled and shaking his head. "No! I won't cut your head
off. That's just going to far."

I looked at him and in my best wheedling voice I said, "Oh,
Jim. Then at least help me cut my own head and see that I don't
hurt my self. I'm going to try it with of without you and if you
leave now and I come to harm you'll never forgive yourself."

"OK," Jim said obvious feeling blackmailed, "What
do you want me to do?"


"Just hand me the knife and then hold my head so it doesn't
fall down."

He complied and in moments I had passed the knife through the
base of my throat. Jim lifted my head slightly and in a move that
took me aback, brought my head up to his and kissed me deeply on
the mouth. I was certainly surprised and would have squealed had
my mouth not been covered

At that moment mother called, saying, "Carol! Come and
lay the table for tea. If Jimmy wants to stay he can."

Jim stopped kissing me and I shouted, "I'll be there in a
minute," and said to Jim, "Quick put me back together."

He looked at me blankly, so I added, "Take the quilt off the
bed lay out my parts on the bed and throw then quilt over, then
go downstairs and start laying the table. I'll get dressed and
come and help as soon as I'm back together." Jim placed my
head on the chair and did what I had asked.

When I threw back the quilt I was back in one piece, so I
pulled on my blouse. I had started to pull on my skirt when I
noticed that there was something wrong, but I could not put my
finger on it, so I completed dressing and went to help Jim.

Nothing odd happened at tea except mother wondered out loud
where the big kitchen knife had got to.

Jim and me left the table as soon as it was polite to and dad
followed us. He tapped me on my shoulder and whispered, "You've
got your feet on the wrong legs. Come to the workshop later and
we'll talk about it." I nodded and went back to my room with
Jim.


Back in my room, I detached my lower legs and re-attached them
to the correct legs and told Jim that if he wanted to remain my
boyfriend, he would have to be more careful in future. We then
discussed what we should do about the knife. We formulated a plan
where we just smuggled it back into the kitchen and looked out
for another knife for me to use.

When the knife had been returned to the kitchen, Jim went home,
saying he would come back tomorrow.

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I went to see dad in the workshop. Mum and dad had just
finished practicing something. When he saw me he told mum that I
would help him clear things up.

"I see you got your feet put right," dad observed.

"Yes, but why do you want to talk to me?" I asked.

"First tell me what happened!"

I told him about what had happened that afternoon, suitably
edited for parental consumption. He just nodded.

"So?" I concluded.

"Well, it seems you have most of it, but it goes further
than that. Basically, you can reproduce the effect of anything
that you first do in front of an audience and in that first time
you will never come to harm."

"Does mum know? Can she do it?" I asked.

Dad shook his head, "No. she doesn't even know you can do
it. She thinks you are doing these things the ... errm ... I
suppose non-magical way, best describes it. She wants to know how
to do that partial vanishing thing."

"Ok, how do we do it?" I asked.

"Search me. but it works," dad admitted. "I
think it might be, you get associated with the picture and then
what happens to the picture happens to you, a bit like a voodoo
doll." He seemed pleased with this explanation, but did not
sound entirely convinced by it.

"If you're talking to me about this, there must be a down
side. What is it?"

"Apart from if your mother found out she would have a fit?"
I nodded, he continued, "It's a dangerous world out there
off stage and there are all sorts of things that could trigger
the effects you have done on stage, which could be just be
embarrassing or it could be a lot more serious than that."

"Such as, loosing my legs when I have accidentally been
cut in half," I offered.

"Precisely," He agreed.

"So, Doing stuff on stage gives me these wacky powers,
but makes more vulnerable to having them triggered to my
disadvantage." He nodded, I concluded, "The upside is I'm
the perfect magician's assistant, the downside is I have to be
careful not to let the magic happen offstage, because there might
be consequences."

"That just about sums it up. So you have a choice. Become
a magician's assistant, stunt person, whatever or take up a
career that keeps you away from the potential hazards. Which ever
you choose we will help you as much as we can."

"Do I have to decide now?"

He smiled and responded, "No, of course not. But the sooner
we know your chosen career the sooner we can start helping you on
it." I smiled.


"And now young lady, when we have cleared up here, it's
your bedtime. You've got school tomorrow," he said.

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The next day, after school, Jim presented me with a short Japanese
sword with a very sharp edge.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"So that you don't need to borrow your mother's kitchen
knives when you want to cut yourself into bits," he answered.

"Can I come and help you?"

I said yes and we had a lot of fun rearranging my bits. Later
that evening I showed dad the sword and told him I had decided
the life of a magician's assistant was the only one I would be
happy living. He smiled and told me that we would start the next
weekend.

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