Welcome to Thunderous Thoughts, a weekly look at the Oklahoma City Thunder where the main topic ranges from fictional stories to non-fictional stories. The week, a fictional magic show involving Sam Presti.
The anonymous email I received on Monday just said, “Magic Show. 11 PM. 5/9. OKC UG. Say nothing.” Way to give a heads up, guys.
Entry was easy. A little too easy. Like maybe this exclusive event wasn’t as exclusive as I thought. Where was the burly guy at the door checking credentials? Where was the heavy duty door that slides open at the eyes with someone asking for the password? How come there was no finger print scanner? The easy access entry made me nervous than if there was a full body scanner at the door. At least then, I would have felt safe. When I entered the club on Tuesday night, I just felt scared.
I looked around for someone, anyone, that I may recognize. Maybe not someone I knew, just someone with a familiar face who I had seen on television. I wanted some type of validation that this was an exclusive event for very important people. Not an email scam that I had stupidly fallen victim to. I saw no one. There were other people in the club, but no one I could pick out. They were faces without names. Despite not knowing anyone, I took comfort in the fact that there were other people in the club. Maybe we were here for different reasons. But at least there were others here.
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I took a seat at the bar and checked my watch. Quarter til eleven. I asked the bartender if he knew anything about a magic show. He said nothing, just asking if I wanted something to drink. I ordered a Jack and Coke. There was no charge. If this was going to be my last night on Earth, at least I drank for free. I pulled out my phone. No service. No wifi. I waited for all the doors to slam shut and an axe-wielding madman in a mask to jump out.
The lights went down. People began to clap. Not wanting to feel left out, I began to clap. “Ladies and gentlemen. What you are about to witness tonight is not an illusion. Be not afraid. Be amazed. Welcome, “Sam The Magician.”
The applause grew louder. I was still a bit confused. A well-dressed, slender man wearing glasses took the stage. No grand entrance. He just walked out from behind the curtain. Smart move. Set expectations low.
Sam took his place next to a table. I couldn’t quite see what was on the table from my view and had no desire to move closer. Remember, free drinks. Sam grabbed something from the table and held it up. It was a mustache. No. It was two mustaches. They were similar, but different. One was very offensive. Like, it had no desire to defend itself from a comb. It was was well-groomed and in place. The other was a mangled mess. Rough around the edges. You could see it becoming well-groomed, but there was work to do.
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Presti put the mangled mustache in his back pocket before putting the well-groomed mustache back on the table. He turned towards the audience and waved his hand. A cell phone appeared. He put the cell phone on the opposite end of the table from the mustache. He turned back towards the audience and held his arms apart. Slowly, he began moving his hands toward each other. As his hands moved, the cell phone and mustache moved. His hands became closer and closer, as did the two items on the tables. Finally, he clapped his hands together.
The cell phone and mustache were gone.
In their place was a ping pong ball shooter, pre-loaded with a lottery ball.
The audience clapped. I clapped as well before ordering another drink.
For his next trick, Sam needed a volunteer. This is why I stayed at the bar. I wasn’t about to be roped into something I knew nothing about. Plus, the free drinks. A young man volunteered. Sam told him not to worry, that he would not regret volunteering. He gave the young man a hug. When he backed away, the man’s shirt was made of money. Furthermore, Sam had fistfuls of cash in his hand. He tossed it at the young man. It was all real money. A lot of it, too. Maybe I should have moved away from the bar. The audience clapped again. I was just mad that money wasn’t thrown on me for free.
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The young man took his seat, newly rich, as Sam set up his next trick. He brought out a single blonde haired woman and asked her to sing. She wasn’t very good. I kind of felt bad for her. I don’t believe it was Sam’s intention to embarrass her, but this was pretty embarrassing. Sam cut her off, snapped his finger, and she was gone. Nothing appeared in her place. She was just gone.
I needed another drink.
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A bull was brought on stage for the next trick. I became nervous. This bull seemed well-behaved compared to most bulls. It looked like it got along well with the other bulls while the other bulls tried to gore each other. The bull tried to leave a couple of times, but Sam managed to keep it in close proximity. Finally, he sprinkled something on the bull. I couldn’t quite tell what it was. But the bull was no longer a bull. It was a thundercloud. And I was definitely drunk.
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The audience loved the last two tricks. Who could blame them? That single singer was very bad. And raging bulls that turn into raging thunderstorms is pretty cool. But Sam had saved his best trick for last.
He pulled out the mangy mustache from earlier and dropped it on the ground. Sam was handed three, double thick cloths, which he placed over the mustache. He took a step back. Did that little thing salt bae does, whispered “Magic,” reached down, and yanked the clothes away.
A Kia had appeared. A full sized Kia. But, the mustache was not gone. Instead, it had grown into a giant mustache placed on the front of the Kia.
The audience went crazy. I went crazy. I don’t know what I had witnessed. But I’m glad I witnessed it. And, I’m glad I had free alcohol through it all.