The audience had enjoyed the magic show, but it appeared that the magician’s assistant had not. She had been put through the wringer, literally as well as metaphorically; she had also been cut into two pieces, several times, three pieces and four pieces, burnt to a crispy skeleton, vanished several times, beheaded and run through with a lot of swords. This could have been horrifying, if it were not for the banter between magician and assistant, and throughout neither the assistant, nor her pale blue Lycra bodysuit with its knee-length skirt, seemed harmed by the tortures inflicted on her. But towards the end of the show it appeared that the assistant's patience was running thin.

The magician was chatting with the audience, waiting for the assistant to return with the props for the next trick, with poorly concealed impatience. The assistant pushed on a small cage about three feet in each direction. The audience had seen this cage before, when the assistant had been locked inside, then the cage wrapped in opaque film before being used for target practice by the magician with a bow and arrow; each arrow having a ribbon attached which had to be pulled from where it penetrated her body once she was released from the cage.

“That isn't what we had planned next. And we've done it already.”

“I'm tired of being the victim of all these magic tricks; tied up, locked in boxes, being chopped into bits. It's your turn! You can dress it up as being an escape if you like, but this time I get to be the person outside the box.”

The magician turned to the audience and shrugged. “Alright, so if this is going to be an escape, what am I escaping from?”

“DUH! The cage, you idiot.”

“What? Just the cage?”

“Of course not, Dummy. I have a couple of ideas to make it seem more impossible and something to  increase the tension a bit, too. But first I need you to get into the cage.”

The magician shrugged again. “OK, but you need to conceal me a bit, as well. We can't have all my escape secrets exposed.”

“If I must.” The assistant seemed a bit disappointed that the magician's humiliation would not be totally open to the audience. “I'll get that curtain on a hoop and hold it up while you try to escape. If you don't escape before my arms get tired, you'll owe me something.”

“What? What will I owe you?”

“I don't know; I haven't decided yet. Although if you get out in time, you won't have to worry about that, will you?”

“Good point; so bring it on!”

“Like I said; you get in the cage first. I have the padlock here. After that I'll get a few more tying up things and then the thing I prepared to increase the tension.”

Another shrug; the magician went over to the cage. While he was raising his leg to step into the cage through the open top, the assistant took his jacket. “Hey! What's the idea?” he then lowered his voice, but was still audible to the audience. “That's where I keep my spare lockpicks.”

“It's a nice jacket; it would be a shame if it got damaged.” It was the assistant's turn to lower her voice. “That's the point, we can't have you cheating. By the way, thanks for reminding me.” She slung the jacket over her shoulder and grabbed the magician's jaw. She then put the fingers of her other hand into his mouth and pulled out a slim piece of bent metal. The magician tried to avoid this, but with one foot in the cage and the other outside, he did not have the mobility he needed.

“Alright, once you're in sit down cross-legged and remember to duck your head as I shut the lid.” The audience giggled at this call-back to when the magician had been too enthusiastic to shut the lid on his assistant. “Good,” she said as the magician ducked in time to not get the wooden lid of the cage slammed into his skull. “Now wait a moment, while I get the rest of the stuff to make this a proper challenge.” She headed for the wings. “And no sneaky fiddling with the padlock while I'm away; remember the audience is watching you.”

Moments later she returned from the wings with a bag of stuff which she rested on top of the cage. From the bag she pulled four sets of handcuffs. The first two she locked around the magician's shins before attaching them to the thicker bars that made up the corners of the cage. The next two she used to fix his wrists to the top front corners of the cage so that his arms were crossed in front of him.

“Alright, now I'll get the curtain and arrange that around you, before I let you know how I'm going to add some urgency to your escape attempt.” She soon returned with the hoop which she lowered over the cage and then untied the ribbons that kept the fabric folded to the ring. “Good news, I've been working out, so I reckon I can hold the ring up for nearly two minutes, but I thought that you'd want to escape in less time than that. So, to encourage you, I got this.” The assistant reached into the bag and pulled out what seemed to be a bundle of dynamite. “The detonator for this is controlled by the timer over there.” She pointed at a pedestal with a timer on the front and a big red domed button on top. The timer seemed set to 1:30. “I'll press the button and then a minute and half later,  you'll know the joy of being dismembered.” She took the bundle of explosive and pushed it between the bars of the cage and deposited it in the magician's lap.

It was a short journey to the button, which she slapped with vigour. She strolled back to the cage containing the trussed magician and stooped to collect the hoop that would hide the magician and his escape secrets from the audience's view. The curtain rose and rattling noises were heard from behind the cloth.

At about the minute mark, the audience heard, “Can't we talk about this?”

The assistant lowered the curtain enough to show the magician's worried face; he did not appeared to have moved anywhere. “You had better make it quick, because, as you'll be aware, that timer does not have a stop button; so the only way to stop you exploding is for you to escape or me to take the explosive and put it in an explosion-proof box; and I'm not inclined to do that at the moment.” The magician did not reply, but the rattling of cuffs against the bars of the cage increased. The assistant raised the curtain again. At about the thirty second mark, the assistant seemed to get bored of only holding the curtain up and began to sidestep in time to the music; many in the audience wondered who's decision it was to play 'The girl from Ipanema' over such an escape. As she sidestepped she passed from the view of the audience, but the curtain kept moving round.

Moments later, the magician appeared from behind, holding up the curtain. The audience applauded  briefly, until he dipped the hoop to show that the assistant was trussed up in the cage, exactly as he had been, with the bundle of explosives in her lap. The magician's glance at the timer, brought the timer to the audience's attention as it counted down to eight. He looked horrified that he had left it so late. As the timer ticked down to one, he threw the hoop holding the curtain into the air, took a hurried two steps backwards and clapped his hands over his ears.

The explosion assailed the ears of the unprepared in the audience, and none would have been surprised if they had be told that the report had been heard outside the theatre. The curtain billowed and stopped rising, but it did not fall.

After about ten more seconds, the curtain fell to reveal the assistant standing there. While she seemed to be whole, her face, hair and outfit were covered in soot and the skirt and some patches of the bodysuit had been shredded.

The crowd went wild and re-doubled their efforts when she jumped down from the top of the cage and hugged the magician. They missed him trying to wish them a good evening and a safe journey home, before the curtain hid the stage.