Extreme Magic Vignette: Sore Throat

The waiting room at the doctor's surgery was busy, with the quiet hum of people waiting, either chatting to people they knew or flipping through magazines they had no real interest in. Into this scene of quiet frustration walked a man in his mid-twenties in black T-shirt, jeans and trainers; he also carried a small black backpack. The cameraman that followed him took in the situation.

"Good Morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Terry and I'm a magician. I have come to help alleviate the waiting; mostly by keeping you entertained, and for a lucky someone, by solving the problem they came to the doctor with."

There was a buzz as the people wonder what he would do to entertain them and who he would cure, if that were possible.

"First I need a volunteer to be cured. Nothing too severe or complicated; I'm not a miracle worker." This produced the hoped for small laughter, thus relaxing everyone and a couple hands were held aloft.

"The gentleman over there. Yes, you! What is your ailment?"

The indicated gentleman said, "I'd rather not say, but if you can fix it I'd be very grateful."

"I'm sorry that sounds too complicate for me. - How about you? Yes, you in the red top."

The lady in her mid-thirties seemed surprised to be called upon, despite being one of the few people still with her hand raised. "I've got a very sore throat," she said in a hoarse whisper, "It's been bugging me for a couple of days and throat lozenges won't touch it."

"Just the kind of case I think I can treat. Would you come over here and someone get her a chair."

A young man moved a chair to the area where Terry was, while the magician rummaged in his backpack. The lady came and sat on the chair.

"Ok. First the formalities. I am Terry, the magician. And you are...?"

"I'm Debbie. I work at the post office, but I can't go if I can't speak loud enough to hear."

"Ok. Debbie, I'll do my best for you." He opened his hand to reveal what he had removed from his backpack; it was a reel of white thread and a parcel label. With practiced ease he unspooled about six feet of thread and snapped it; placed the remainder of the reel in his pocket. "Do you often have sore throats, Debbie?" he queried, as he tied the parcel tag to the end of the cotton.

"No, this is the first time I can remember in years," she murmured.

"Good, then I think this should clear it up in no time flat. - I want you to swallow this cotton thread, but leave the label hanging out." He handed her the thread and label, which she looked at dubiously. "The idea is," he continued, "that whatever is causing your sore throat will stick to the thread and we can pull it out and you'll feel much better and be able to go to work."

Debbie regarded him with a look that said she did not believe his explanation, but was willing to humour him for the entertainment. She put the thread in her mouth and taking the parcel tag in her hand, she swallowed and winced.

"Good, now we wait for a minute." Everyone was paying attention to Debbie and the cameraman took the opportunity to get reactions from the watchers; most were looking sceptical, but interested.

When the minute was up, he took hold of the label and gently pulled, which caused Debbie to be pulled forward in her seat.

"Oh dear. It seems your sore throat is caused by something bigger than a virus or germs and it's got stuck."

Debbie looked appalled. "I can't go around with a thread hanging from my mouth. What are you going to do about it?"

Terry was already back looking through his knapsack. He withdrew a couple of boards, a head-sized box and a couple of blades. Debbie's eye went wide. "What are you going to do with that stuff?" she croaked.

"I'm going to sort out your throat, because you don't want a thread stuck down it for the rest of your life, do you?"

Terry called forward the man who had brought the chair up and the lady next to him. They were stationed either side of Debbie and given a board each to hold. Terry took the ends of each board, which featured semi-circular cut-outs and a set of clips, and brought them together so they surrounded Debbie's neck. While he was clipping the board ends together, he instructed his helpers to support the combined board.

Next he placed the box over Debbie's head. She looked nervous as her face disappeared from view.

"Now for the delicate surgery," he announced. The magician took the pair of blades, which he had placed back-to-back, and slid them into the gap between the board and the box.

At this point a doctor arrived to call his next patient. Naturally, all thought of calling his scheduled patient vanished when he saw a strange man dressed in black thrust a pair of flat metal blades through the throat of one of his patients. He rushed forward to administer first aid or to apprehend the murderer if his patient was passed the point where first aid was possible.

"How are feeling now, Debbie?" asked Terry.

A small voice answered from within the box, "No worse than before. Did you just inject me in the throat?"

The doctor pulled up, because there was no blood gushing, the body had not slumped and the assumed assailant was having a conversation with the patient.

"What's going on?" asked the doctor.

"I'm trying to cure Debbie's sore throat."

The doctor evidently did not believe it, but seeing the cameraman, thought that losing his temper at this point would not be a good idea. It occurred to him that this might be some prank and he did not want to appear to over-react. "So, what method were you going to use?"

"Well, I tried the thread down throat method," the magician explained, as if that was everyone's first recourse when faced with a sore throat. He indicated the parcel label on the end of the thread that extended an inch or two from the box. He continued, "But it got stuck, so I've moved on to removing her head to unblock the return of the thread." As he said this he casually moved the head-box a foot towards the man supporting the board.

The entire audience uttered sounds of surprise; most could not believe what they were seeing. These sounds turned to awe when he lifted the box from the board.

Terry looked round for somewhere to put the box down and obviously saw nowhere quite right. "Doctor Green," he read from the badge, "could you do me a favour? I need to borrow one of these steel trolleys you use to carry your tools of the trade on. Could you get me one?"

Confused by the presence of a living headless woman and a cameraman in his waiting room and still guessing this was some kind of practical joke arranged by colleagues, he felt his best course was to comply. He bustled off and soon brought back a small upright trolley made of stainless steel.

Terry thanked Dr Green and positioned the trolley where most of the people could see it, before placing the box on the upper surface, making sure that the label was not caught under the box.

"How are you doing in there, Debbie?"

"I'm feeling a bit queasy, like carsickness, but not much."

"That'll pass. I'm going to open the front of box, so be prepared for it to be suddenly brighter. Maybe if you close your eyes for a few seconds that will help."

Terry slid the panel that comprised most of the front of the box up; showing Debbie's disembodied head with its eyes tight shut. A moment later, Debbie opened her eyes and took in the changed view.

"Are you Ok?" asked the doctor.

"Well apart from the sore throat, I'm feeling fine," she replied with a slight lisp in her whisper, as if the thread was getting in the way of her tongue.

"Doctor Green, would you like to help some more?" asked Terry. The doctor considered for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that is only option was to say 'yes', so he nodded. "If you would. Please, take hold of the label and gently pull when I say pull and stop when I say stop."

The doctor nodded again, partly afraid the his voice would sound less than certain and partly wondering how he was in a position of taking orders from a young man in a black T-shirt who had apparently decapitated a patient in his waiting room.

"Debbie, please make your mouth in to the shape it would make if you were saying 'oo' and hold it until I say." Debbie made an experimental 'oo' sound and then reformed her lips into the shape they had made. "Now, Doctor Green, gently pull the thread."

The doctor timidly put a small amount of strain on the thread, which pulled out from Debbie's mouth with a little resistance. As he pulled, after about three inches, there seemed to be a needle tied to the thread appearing from between Debbie's rounded lips. The needle was about an inch and a half long. Once the needle had cleared her lips it swung down and dangled from the thread. Half an inch later another one began to emerge. Debbie was trying to squint down to see what was happening. Her eyes went wide when to saw the needle swinging from the thread.

After three more feet and twenty needles, the magician told Doctor Green to stop. Appraising the situation, Terry said, "That looks hopeful. A bunch of needles in your throat would cause you some pain, but it does not explain why the thread got stuck, does it?" Terry considered, while the doctor looked at the string of needles the swung gently between his hand and his patient's disembodied head on a stainless steel trolley and then her headless body sitting, a little tensely on a chair three feet further away.

"Debbie, can you give me a grin so that your lips and teeth are parted." Debbie experimented with her facial expression until she was told that she had is perfect. "Great, Debbie, hold that! Doctor Green would you continue pulling the thread in the same way you were before; slowly, smoothly and with even tension. You may find you need to use a bit more force."

Almost immediately, something else began to emerge from between Debbie's parted teeth; it was soon obvious that it was a razor blade. This was followed by a further string of razor blades tied on the thread at inch and a half intervals. Terry called a halt to the pulling after a further two and a half feet.

"Is that feeling better, Debbie?" asked the magician.

In a voice that seemed less pained, but more constricted, Debbie replied, "Most of the pain has gone, but I still feel as if there is something still in my throat."

"Right, OK. So, Doctor, please pull until you encounter more resistance." The doctor applied more tense to the thread and drew out a further two bare inches before encountering more resistance and said so. "Great, just hold it there! Debbie could you please open your mouth."

Debbie opened her mouth and revealed a horse chestnut still in its spiky green case with the end of the thread neatly tied round it. It took Debbie opening her mouth as wide as it would go to extract it from between her teeth.

"Does that feel better?" queried the magician, as he gathered up the thread and placed it with all its sharp attachments on the trolley beside the head-box.

"Yes, it feels great; there's no pain at all, but something feels odd."

"I'll sort that out right away, then you can have a glass of water and get ready for your work at the post office."

Terry turned round the trolley, so that Debbie faced her body for the first time. Her jaw drop even further than it had to for the extraction of the conker seed. The descent into shock was caught by the cameraman, before the magician replaced the front panel and transferred the box to its former position, placed in the centre of the board. The blades were taken out and stowed in the knapsack as was the box. While Debbie was recovering sense enough to speak, Terry unclipped the two sections of the board from around Debbie's neck and while she, quite naturally, rubbed her neck, he tucked the boards under one arm and picked up his backpack with the other hand and left.

The cameraman remained for quite a while longer collection reactions and releases from everyone, especially Debbie and Doctor Green.