Hannibal McCrae, the finest magician this side of the Mississippi (the bad side) gives me a long, slow, disapproving look.
“Sugarcube,” he says, “How do you ever expect to convince anybody that the apricot is gone?” I’m trying to palm small fruits while we sit on his front porch. His front porch in East St. Louis, on the Illinois side of
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Comments 19
He’s only agreed to teach me proper showman’s style because I’m helping him file his taxes.
Brilliant!
And I love "grinning like a bear trap," too -- short, simple, and vividly clear. Image magic! :D
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I got a huge kick out of all your names in your entry. I think I caught all of them, from Lovecraft's Whateley to Crowley, to the lidless, burning-eye pumpkin of the Blasted Lands of the Unspeakable East, in Mordor where the shadows dwelleth.
-D
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Good luck to you this week, too! Your poems are always inspiring.
-D
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I really like the visceral description of the magic process. The joke about philosophy majors is a bit worn. The idea that a 'real' magician can only consider 'stage' magician as a source of income shows unbelievably little imagination for even a bad 'real' magician.
Mostly it is a fun concept for a story, but a bit too short to make us care about the characters conveying the concept.
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Jubal McCrae Henderson! Yes! He was a squirrel, who lived in a great big tree. And he had these Huge Piles Of Stuff and people would come to him with problems, and he'd have something in a pile that could solve it. He was useful.
What do you suggest for a career for Nat? She needs direction.
-D
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I'll bring her back eventually.
-D
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Good luck this week, and friend me if you like.
giazz_40
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Thank you very much. 'bedamn' is an actual word, here being a sort of short hand for "I'll be damned". it's just an oath. But it's old-styley.
-D
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