Before The Magician’s Assistant Course - Part 4 - More Rehearsals

When Wednesday arrived and the working day had departed, I still lacked any firm suggestions for anything to do with what kind of act we might present together. As I cycled to Jack’s warehouse I formulated a plan for making sure that these rehearsals did not become dull, while I waited for the Magician’s assistant’s course to come.

I went in through door and parked my bicycle out of the way, then I called out that I had arrived.

As expected, Jack shouted back that he was upstairs. I went up and we spent the time it took to drink the coffee he had ready catching up on the week so far. I also told him that I had not been inspired with anything about our future magic act, but I had an idea how to stop the rehearsals until I had done the course, from being boring.

“I wondered if you would find discussing the theory of putting together a show a bit dull compared to watching a show or being part of one, even in private.”

“My idea was that we would do an illusion without the magic. Like you said last time, those who have seen some magic will have theories on how it was achieved, without resorting to magic; and I've seen a lot of videos of magic. I thought that we could try my theories out and in the process find out if there are particular ways of performing I like and whether they fit yours. So three birds with one stone; I get to do some interesting stuff, we get to try performing together and thirdly, you get to try doing illusion without magic, because I got the idea that you were overusing it; the magic that is.”

"I guess most of what I do performance-wise is real magic, but it's not like I brush my teeth with magic or use it to tie my shoe laces." Privately, I suspected that if he wore shoes with laces, he would use magic to tie them, but as I had never seen him in shoes with laces, the point seemed moot.

He moved the thrust of the conversation from his excess use of magic, but to the subject at hand. "So, what would you like to try? I don't think any of my sawing illusions are big enough for you do with the illusionists' methods."

"My thought," I began, "was that we could try the sword box. Last time was a near disaster, but I thought if we can do it without sticking the swords through me, I would not run the risk of losing body heat and we could use the dangerous looking swords and have more impact without risking me suffering hypothermia."

"I guess that makes sense." Jack sounded dubious about the proposal.

"Of course, once I've been on the course, it wouldn't matter if one or two of the swords went through me; in fact, a couple of rents in the costume, whatever we decide it will be, would sell the illusion even more."

"So, do you know how to do the sword box illusion?" he asked.

"Didn't they teach you that at college?" It seemed incredible to me, at the time, that magicians doing real magic weren't being, at least, shown the illusionists' methods.

"No, of course not. We were being trained to do real magic and do it safely. Of course, we were told not to make it too obvious, but not to the point of learning how to fake what we could do for real."

"That sounds like asking you to build a house without giving you all the tools you need for the job. Don't you study what illusionists do?"

"Of course we study the great illusionists, but we don't study there methods; what we study is there performances, as examples of performance and so we can emulate what they are pretending to do, so that when we perform we don't miss what the audience is expecting by too much."

"Why not learn some of their methods? I feel sure it would help you camouflage your magic better. And it might help you do the fake out reveal kind of thing. You know where the magician pretends to reveal a trick and then redoes the trick, but obviously not by the revealed method."

"Charlotte, said something like that, but her dad was an illusionist."

At the mention of Charlotte's name, I felt a pang of jealousy. I was not entirely clear on what their relationship had been, but I knew that they had studied together at magicians' college and considered joining forces in a magic act, but parted on good terms, something about their working styles not being a good fit, and they still kept in regular touch. I decided to change the subject.

"The good news is that I've seen enough performances of the sword box illusion to realise that there are a minimum of two ways that it gets done, so I thought we could try the two methods that I have worked out and see whether they do the trick."

Jack did not seem sold on the idea. "What's the point?"

"You mean apart from keeping me happy until you are allowed to magic on me again?" I let that sink in for a few moments, before adding, "My guess is that when you've done something like the sword box before that people asked how you got the girl out of the box and not how she survived being in the box." I could tell from the drop of his jaw that he recognised this kind of scenario. "I suspect that's because you can cause harmless penetration, that you never thought to pause and consider, even for a moment, where the sword, or whatever, was going in the box. I reckon that displayed a gung-ho attitude that came across as if you did not care where the sword went through the box, which most people will interpret as you know the person in the box can't be harmed, and leading them to the conclusion that she has disappeared and you are poking things through an empty box, which is hardly impressive."

"So, how would doing it like an illusionist help?"

"Well, it will make you appear more skilful, because you will take that extra moment to consider what you are doing."

"Ok?" I had a feeling that he had not really got the point, maybe if he had time to think about it, it might sink in that magic is not the only way to perform magic. "So, how do we go about this?" He was not be convinced about the performance benefits of trying to do a sword box illusion, but he had noticed that I would rather be doing something more than sitting on the sofa, drinking coffee and discussing my dull job and the technical minutiae of magical theory.

"What we need is a biggish box and a set of sticks to poke through it. I think it's better to start with sticks, because they won't damage my clothes if you accidentally hit me while I'm in the box."

"How big a box do you think we need?"

"I don't know; it's not like they tell you the size of the box they use in the videos. But they usually seem to come up to the hips of the assistant and I'd guess that they'd be some standard size."

"I think I know the size. I'll go down and see if I've go one the right size."

As he stood, the computer in the office area made a quacking noise. He diverted to check the email that noise was a notification for.

"Is checking your email really that important, now?" I asked.

"Normally, no. But I asked Charlotte if she'd do me a favour and I'm hoping that this is her saying 'yes'."

I watched as he clicked the mouse a few times and then did a fist-pump. It appeared that Charlotte had said 'yes'. I was unsure how I felt about this development. Jack claimed she was a college friend and nothing more, but there had to be more if he felt he could ask favours of her; I wasn't even in touch with my only boyfriend from when I was in college. I was further convinced that he had feelings for Charlotte, by the way he positively skipped down the stairs to find a box and some sticks.

I spent the next few minutes rinsing out the coffee cups in the kitchen area. Then I heard the freight elevator start up. Moments later I heard Jack springing up the stairs. The elevator ground to a halt and Jack came in through the door. I looked from  the lift door to the door at the head of the stairs. "I've got to keep a bit fit, 'cause no-one wants a fat magician; unless he does comedy and I never really got the hang of telling jokes; I'm not even funny telling jokes badly."

"Nobody ever told me I was funny either, unless they were implying I was odd in some way; so I guess whatever kind of act we end up doing it won't be a comedy." Internally, I felt a relief that comedy was not on the agenda, because I was thinking that I wanted to be the 'sexy assistant', to the point that I had asked the girls at work about whether I needed to join a gym or similar; they seemed to be of the opinion that walking to work and cycling around town kept me in good shape unless I wanted to start bodybuilding.

Jack smiled and crossed the area to the freight lift shutters. Inside was a tall tube holding a bundle of wooden spears and, next to it, were the flattened carcasses of two boxes that I imagined might be about the right size. "Why have you brought two boxes?" I asked.

"I thought you said you knew, or had worked out, two methods. You see I do listen."

"I assumed that it wouldn't matter for the purposes of trying them out, one would be enough; no point in poking more boxes full of holes that necessary, right? And I thought that we'd try one method this time and the other one next; that way we can discuss how one felt and how it looked and stuff like that, before I go home and then do the other one and make comparisons next time. And it'll give me something to look forward for next time too."

He coughed slightly. "I'm glad you brought up next time, because next time will be next Wednesday. I'm sorry," he added when I showed my disappointment, "but I need to have a meeting at the college and Charlotte will be there too, because I need to meet with her too."

"Ok," I said, my tone showing that I felt let down.

"I know it's short notice, but it seems that they have some questions about you, that I did not cover when I registered you on the course. Well, that's what they say, but I think they also want to haul me over the coals for performing so much magic on you having only just met you."

"What will they do to you? And how could they know?"

"I'm assuming that Stan, he's the guy that wrote the Thaum calculating app I mentioned last time, told them, once I asked if he could work out how many Thaums I had put into you. I was a bit worried after our seance that there might be too much for even an assistant to handle. He knows the rules and the rules say that if we see a fellow magician doing something that might be considered abusing the power we wield, we should report it to the college for investigation."

"So, you're going to be investigated for what you did to me, even though I consented to all of it and came to no harm, beyond a divot in my kitchen table." He nodded with a face full of shame. "Ok, what do you think they'll do to you?"

"It depends on what they decide. But my guess would be, given that you were unharmed and are registered on the magicians' assistant's course, the worst they'll do is put me on some form of probation, which would impose a limit on me of how many thaums I can use per day."

"Would you like me to come? I'd be willing to say that you did not force me to do anything."

"Thank you for offering, but they will consider you under my influence until after the course, when one of the things you'll be taught is how to resist hypnosis; precisely to prevent a magician taking advantage of his assistants."

"I guess it's good to know that they think of those things, but a little worrying to think that they need to think of them."

"Hm," he made a noise agreeing with my sentiment. "So, we've only got today, next Wednesday and the Wednesday after that before you go on the course. This Sunday they'll grill me about how I treated you and the following Sunday I've got that busking gig I mentioned. Have you decided if you're going to come along; try out what it feels like to perform for the public?"

"I suppose it'll better to find out if I can handle being in front of the public sooner rather than later. Will I need to turn up early or something like that?"

"It'll be a lot better if we meet there. So that you seem like a normal audience member, but we can sort out the detailed arrangements for that next week." While he spoke, he picked up one of the rectangles of card and formed it into a box by tucking the flaps together and placing it on the floor in front of the mirror wall. "Which version of this trick would you like to try first? Not that I would know one version from another."

"I think we'll try what I think of as the organised version; the other version doesn't seemed to require quite as much care, but I find it a little less convincing."

"Are you going to tell me what I need to do now, or let me know as we go along?"

"I think, I'll tell you as we go along. But that's mostly because, like I said, I worked it out, but if I got it wrong, I might be able to find a fix as I go, or decide that it was a bad idea before we get too far."

"You can take a few moments to prepare yourself, while I set up the cameras so that we can review the results." He nodded to the cubicle bathroom.

"Do you have a costume that I could change into?" I asked, clarifying, "So I don't have to worry about get rips in these clothes."

"Of course, I'll get you a leotard; less risk of catching anything. You can check the box is big enough while I fetch it." He turned towards the stair and was gone in a few seconds.

I moved over to the box and tried to compare its dimensions to parts of my body. Once the top was closed it would be about as tall as my hips and it was not quite two shoulder-widths square; checking against my plan it seemed smaller than I had hoped, but still big enough for my plan to work.

I had returned to the sofa before Jack got back with a tripod-mounted camera in one hand and a swatch of black fabric in the other. "I hope that's ok; it was the first thing I grabbed. It should do for rehearsing." He threw the fabric at me as I rose to use his bathroom as a changing room. I carried it there and closed the door behind me.

The leotard was more substantial that it had at first appeared. My first impression, mainly because of how light it was, was that it might be one of those garments that consist of three triangles of fabric and barely enough straps to hold them in place. Further inspection showed it was like a one-piece bathing suit, but of a much lighter fabric. My next concern was that the fabric might be so light that it was see-through. Spreading it out and stretching it some showed me that it was sufficiently opaque, but mostly back-less. The presence of a couple of unexplained straps did worry me a little.

I locked the door before stripping off my clothes and hanging them on the towel rail. Then I used the loo, because we had drunk quite a bit of coffee and I did not know how easy using the toilet would be in the leotard. Getting into the unitard was fairly easy; put my legs through the leg-holes, pull it up to cover my hips and buttocks, then put my arms though the loops for the arms. The purpose of the straps became evident; they are attached to each other across my shoulder blades, without that a gap where the side of my boobs could be seen would have been quite prominent. I took a few moments to position my breasts; while the leotard did not have cups, it did hold them in place, so I took the time to position them to be move level that when I first put it on.

With the garment on I tried to check that I was not showing anything through or round it that I did not want showing. The mirror above the sink was not ideal for the task, but it gave me the confidence that I was not indecent and that I could do a fuller check in the mirrored wall without getting any lascivious comments from Jack.

As I exited the bathroom, Jack looked up from the camera he was adjusting. "Woo, Abi! You look great in that. I hope you don't feel it's too skimpy."

"I couldn't see enough in the bathroom mirror to tell, but I don't think I'm showing anything inappropriate, but I came out to check in the big mirror."

"OK. I'll be finished setting up the cameras in a minute or so; so be my guest."

I checked how I looked in the mirror. I had minor concerns; the way the fabric stretched across my chest it would obvious if my nipples hardened, and the bit of the costume that went over my belly did not cover the whole width, which might make me seem fatter than I was. I was relieved to discover that the bottom of the costume covered my buttocks nicely.

"So, is the costume ok?" Jack asked.

"I suppose it'll do for rehearsals, but somehow I guess that I'll need something lighter or more colourful for shows, assuming we get that far."

"I guess we'll need to sort out clothes to perform in once we decide about styles and illusions and such like. Are you ready to try your non-magical illusion? I guess the first thing is to get you into the box, right?"

Despite a sneaking feeling that this was bound to go wrong, I agreed. Looking at the cameras, I had a thought. "Do I need to say something about consenting before we get started." I was remembering the night when I experienced my first magic and he had insisted that I record a message saying that I had consented.

"Don't think so. Partly because there will be no magic involved, just some illusionist nonsense, but mainly because you will be giving me instructions of what to do, so it'll be obvious you are the one with their hand on the reins."

"Ok, I guess. I think I'll need some help getting into the box, because it's a bit tall."

He came over to where I was standing and picked me up, with one arm under my knees and the other across my back. I instinctively put my arms around his neck. When we got to the box I lifted my legs and cooperated in being lowered leg-first into it.

At this point I realised that putting my shoes back on had probably been a bad idea. "Give me a moment," I said as it sat down in the box and began to remove my shoes.

He stood and waited, not looking into the box, until I raised a hand with my shoes. "Could you put those to the side? I will want them later, but I don't want them damaged and I expect that they'd get in the way while I'm in here."

I caught a glimpse of the puzzlement on his face as he took my shoes from me. As he stepped away from the box, he commented, "I thought you were arranging yourself on the box. Why did you put them on in the first place, if you knew you were going to take them off?"

"I think it's habit to put on shoes, and, anyway, I hadn't worked out that wearing them might be in the way until I got into the box; it's not like I've done this ever before."

I paused to consider what to do next. I quickly concluded that taking charge of my fate was the right thing to do. "When you've put my shoes out of the way, it's time to fold down the top of the box. Then you'll need to get three sticks, spears, whatever you call them." There were a couple of quiet taps as my shoes were put on the floor, then followed two steps as Jack came back. The first flap folded down was the one on the mirror side of the box, which happened to be the direction I was facing. In quick succession the flaps were folded down with a bit of a struggle to fold the last flap under the first.

I shifted as best I could to my left so that I was sitting facing the mirror. "Ok, now spike the box a little to the right of centre from back to front!" I instructed. "But give me some sort of countdown so that the sticks coming through isn't too much of a surprise; I don't want to be squealing with surprise."

"Um, which sides are left and right?" he asked.

"What?" I asked, wondering what Jack's problem was.

"I get front and back, front is facing the mirror, but left and right on stage, which this is, effectively, gets confusing for people who don't know."

"I'm sitting in here facing towards the mirror with my left side against the side of the box. You work it out!"

I took the time that it took him to calculate my position to squeeze closer than I already was to the left side of the box.

"Ok, on three then. I hope this works. One... two... Three!"

I heard the word 'three' and it was immediately follow by a loud popping noise as the point of one of the sticks invaded the space I occupied and rushed through making another pop as it left through the front of the box. Thankfully I did not scream; but I took the heavy intake of breath that would normally have preceded it. The expansion of my chest pushed my arm outwards until it touched the stick that had penetrated the box. The contact was midway up my upper arm.

Jack asked, "Was that Ok?" in a tone that felt as if he needed reassurance.

"Yes, the important thing being that you didn't touch me, even if it was a little closer than I had anticipated."

"Did you want it a bit further from you?"

"Not really. If you put it through much further off-centre. But if you angle it a fraction to the left from a little further to the right, it'll give me enough space and still appear from the outside like you're being more central."

"Alright. When you're ready," he called. I raised my left hand to give a thumbs up through the gap in the folded down top of the box. I had a few seconds while he counted to three to get my arm out of the way. It turned out not to matter, because the stick popped in a little wider of my hips and exited a fraction closer to my ankles. "Was that better?"

"Yep. That was good. Now the third one goes through near the top, with a bit of downward angle perhaps; we'll have to see how it looks and refine things based on what it looks like on the video."

He counted to three again and I heard the double pop of the stick going through the box. I tried to turn my head to see where the stick crossed the small space we both occupied and touched it with my cheek. The rod was nearly six inches to the left of where the previous two had crossed.

"Hey! What's the idea? I thought I told you a bit right of centre; not the centre of the left side!" I may have been exaggerating, but not by much.

"I thought it would be more impressive."

"The only thing impressive about this is how stupid you are," I yelled. I took a few deep breaths. Calmer I asked, "Who were you trying to impress?" He made a sound indicating uncertainty. "If you're trying to impress me with how close you can miss me, you just failed to get any points for following instructions. If you're trying to impress the audience, you failed, because, it may have escaped your notice, but, people can't see through the walls of cardboard boxes, so they can't tell how close or otherwise you got. The worst thing is if you leave it there, it'll be in the way of what I need to do to get this to work; so, take it out and put where it should be!"

I may have heard a muttered 'Sorry,' but I could not be quite sure, because it coincided with the scraping noise of the offending stick being pulled from the box. Another count of three and it re-enter the space approximately above the first two rods.

"Ok," I said, "Now get another three sticks, while I change position. I'll tell you where they go when I'm ready."

It took some time to get it done, but I managed to turn myself sideways from where I had been to sitting with my back to the left side of the box and my right side against the back of the box. What took the time was feeding my legs between the lower two rods without putting too much strain in the holes they had made.

When I was ready and settled, I called out instructions. "These three go through from left to right a bit forward of the middle at roughly the same heights as the other three. And before you ask left and right are in the same places they were last time. And I really mean left to right, so don't get any ideas about trying one in the other direction!"

"So long as they miss you, what does it matter?" he asked.

"I'm facing right, so I can see anything coming from that direction (it may be dark in here, but not that dark). I don't want to be scared out of my wits by seeing a spear coming at me, even if it misses me. But a stick from the left side will have gone safely by me before I see it and thus less frightening."

"I thought you wanted to do something more exciting than talking about stuff. Err! I guess I answered my own question."

"Exactly. Exciting does not have to be frightening. Now get on with it, before I get bored and go home."

The next three rods crossed the space about an inch to my left, after counts of three, and lined up suspiciously well.

"Are you using magic to guide those sticks?" Assuming that the answer was 'yes', I continued, "I thought you weren't supposed to use magic on me until I was qualified, or something."

"Well, of course, I'm using magic to guide the sticks; it's a lot easier to avoid hitting you that way. And I'd hate to be an illusionist's assistant rehearsing this, because they must end up with bruises, scrapes and scratches galore. And, by the way, it does not count as magic done on you, because it's not doing anything to you directly."

"That's ok, I have to assume that you know the rules. But remember, I'll have a better idea of the rules after I've done the course."

"So, what's next? And how many more rods are you planing to have added?"

"Give me a moment then I'll tell you, but as far as I remember, you'll only be needing eight more sticks."

"Good I've got enough," I heard him mutter as I turned an eighth turn to my left, taking time and care to feed my legs between the lower two of the latest trio of sticks. I manoeuvred my arms over the cross of sticks I was now facing and hugged myself as close in against the criss-crossed sticks as I could manage.

"You ready for some more stabbing action?"

"Yeah, just tell me where and it's good as shishkabobbed." While I liked the enthusiasm, I was less certain about the terminology Jack was using, especially as if he got this wrong I would be the one being skewered.

"Could you take this a bit more seriously, please. Being speared without the benefit of magic is not my idea of fun." He muttered a half-hearted apology. "Ok, now, at about a third of the way up and a third of the way down on each of the quarters of the box, the sticks go in so that cross the straight-through sticks outside the box. And be particularly careful of the rear left quarter, because that's where most of me is."

"Do you still want a count down for each rod?" he asked.

"Yes, definitely. Until I get used to this kind of thing, I need all the help I can get to not end up a nervous wreck. And you don't want me to be one of those, because I might decide to cut my losses and pay you your money, leaving you out an assistant. Not to mention that Linda would be round her like a shot to give you what for for not treating me right."

He responded with a laugh in his voice. "So, you're making threats? Do I have to remind you who is in the box and who has the sticks?"

"No," I said, adding, "Just get on with it!"

He stabbed the box around me eight times, but the only contact I made with the new sticks was with the one that went across the small of my back as I relaxed a little having heard the pop of the stick that would have gone across my shoulder blades.

"In case you weren't counting, that was number eight of this stage,"he stated; then asked," What's next?"

"From what I remember, I put my hand out through the gap in the top to wave at the audience. I guess that's to convince them that I hadn't gone anywhere. Then you pull out all the sticks and help me get out. In some of the sword boxes I've seen on YouTube they do costume changes or bring out something that was not in the box to start with, like a snake or a big flag, but let's get the basics down, before we consider what bells and whistles we might add." It had been awkward with me wrapped around the rods through the box, but I put my hand out and waved while I was saying this.

"So, just take the rods back out?" He queried.

"Yes, that's all there is at the moment, but don't be too quick with them, because I'm touching some of them and I don't want to be scratched by the tips; thank you very much."

He pulled the sticks out from the left side of the box first, then moved round to the right side and finally pulling the remaining sticks, that had gone in from the back, out of the front. Because he took the last three sticks out from bottom to top, I was able to get my feet under me and burst up through the top of the box moments after he had pulled the lasted stick free.

He looked surprised with the last three sticks hanging from his hand; the rest had already been returned to the stick-pot. My guess was that he had expected me to want him to open up the box.

He stood there slack-jawed for several moments. "Aren't you going to help a lady out of a box?" I enquired.

He hurried to put the sticks in the pot and then came close to help me exit the box. With his arm across my back and my arms round his neck, we nearly succeeded in get me out cleanly, but at the last second my heel caught on one of the flaps and we knocked the box over.

He frowned, but I smiled back. "I guess that's the sort of thing we'll need to rehearse; getting out of a box without looking inept at it." My comment made him laugh.

"What happens now?" he asked.

"We get some more coffee and watch it back and see if it looks any good, for a first try by either of us. We could make some notes on where it can be improved, that's if it looks any good at all. After that I go home and sleep on it, until next Wednesday; assuming the college don't throw the book at you for the magic you did to me the first time I was here."

As we watched the recordings, I felt that it looked rather amateur, but Jack seemed to think that the main improvements that were needed were tightening up getting me into and out of the box and him seeming more confident in what he was doing. I suggested that if we were going to continue with this version of the sword box, it might also be possible include an additional sword from the top, adding that to make that work effectively, we would need a platform to stand the box on so that the sword could be seen when it poked out underneath.

As I rode home, I was feeling the warm glow of success. I slept well.

----------

The rest of the week went by normally enough, although Miss Sharp commented that she thought I seemed more relaxed than usual. In retrospect, I think I was; but having survived being in a sword box, the rest of the world posed little challenge.

On Saturday, I dropped Jack a short email wishing him luck with his disciplinary meeting. I spend Sunday afternoon helping Linda with the household chores.

Jack replied to the email late on Sunday, saying that he was on probation until they spoke to me while I was on the course. He also mentioned that his meeting with Charlotte had gone well. It crossed my mind wonder why Jack needed to meet Charlotte. My jealous side was beginning to wonder if the 'C' was silent in her name; but most of me assumed that there was a simple reason for Jack to have meetings with Charlotte, but was made suspicious by Jack not telling me what the reason was.

----------

The next Wednesday followed a similar format to the previous one; Coffee and chat, followed by trying an illusionists' illusion; specifically the other version of the sword box that I thought I had worked out. This time he had the materials to hand. I suspect he had not put them away since the Wednesday before, although the box with the holes had been removed.

The chat from my side was minimal, because office work does not lend itself to exciting incidents and the minutiae is generally either tedious or confidential. Jack had more to talk about. He had received an order of the 'audience spiker escape', which he had to remind me was the final piece of magic he had performed at the charity dinner where we had first met.

It took a little persuading to get him to tell about how the disciplinary had gone. He told me that they had said he should not discuss it with me before they had talked to me about it. The only advice he would give about that was to be honest about what happened and how I felt about it, because they would know if I was lying. The probation he was on boiled down to 'if he infringed the rules again, both offenses would be considered together and probably lead to a stiffer penalty'.

With the talking and coffee done, we moved onto the illusion. I stripped off my outer clothes, not retreating to the bathroom this time, because I had taken the leotard home and was wearing it under my clothes instead of underwear. While I did that, Jack set up a fresh box and checked the cameras.

Getting me into the box was as simple as last time. While he folded down the top I curled up as flat as I could in the bottom of the box.

By way if instructions I said, "I'm in the bottom third of the box, so you can stick as many sticks as you like into the top two thirds as you like in what ever direction you like." I also suggested that he put in some with a downward slope so that the ends sticking out covered the fact that the bottom third was not being skewered. Thankfully, he continued to count before poking a stick through, or I might have squealed my way to a sore throat.

The experience of doing it this way felt a lot more passive; lie there and hope he missed me, which was not a problem except for the one downward slanting rod that missed my ear by less than an inch. I was also unable to wave out of the top of the box when Jack said he had run out of sticks, because they were in the way.

With the sticks removed, getting me out of the box went smoother than last time, thanks to me kicking my heels slightly higher.

Reviewing the illusion done this way, I felt that while Jack was able to spear the box with greater abandon, it was fairly evident that the bottom third was being untroubled, especially as the only holes were in the top two thirds. I suspect that knowing how we had done it led me to spot these flaws, but I did suggest that perhaps the result would look better if I had something to poke a few holes in the bottom while I was down there. Jack said that he had found it fun to do, but did not feel it taxed his skill in the way the previous weeks version had.

With the second coffee and viewing the illusion complete. I put my clothes back on and we arranged where and when to meet at the shopping centre the following Sunday. As I rode home, it bugged me that Jack's meeting with Charlotte had not been mentioned, much less explained.