"Every magic trick consists of three parts, or acts.
The first part is called the Pledge: The magician shows you something ordinary.
The second act is called the Turn: The magician takes the ordinary something, and makes it into something extraordinary. But you wouldn't clap yet, because making something disappear isn't enough. You have to bring it back.
Now you're looking for the secret, but you won't find it because, of course, you're not really looking. You don't really want to work it out. You want to be...fooled."
― The Prestige
"If you weren't so large, I'd let you fuck my wife up the ass."
I was certain I'd heard Merlin Olsen utter the same sentiment in an FTD floral commercial. Disgusted, I gawked back at the small, brown businessman. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?!"
This conversation must've been as pleasant for the diminutive dude as waking up naked in an ice-filled bathtub, a crisp suture above his kidney. That said, this was all his idea. I mean, he was the one with the wife, right?
He was the one who wanted to see said significant other suckling strange schlong. I simply happened to have a weird wang. I could've been one of a million other random dorks.
From a pinpoint in this suburban rat maze, the man glared at me, as though attempting to siphon what was left of my brain through my eye sockets.
Tense, I glanced around for a topic of conversation that would deter hubby from homicidal thoughts. "E— Ever wonder why it's called a living room? Does that make all the other rooms dead?"
Akin to Larry Sellers' homework, it had nothing to do with anything. Still, I was desperate to keep this guy from envisioning what I was about to do to his wife.
