“Pick a card, any card!” said Bobby J. Slick, Louisiana’s most famous magician, recently returned from his latest disappearing act to North Carolina and Washington, D.C. “If I don’t find your card on my first pull, I’ll give you a coin which you can spend however you wish.”

“King of spades,” Mike replied, shoving his hand into his purple and gold trousers. A regular customer of Slick’s, Mike  usually received coins from the magician. But lately,  Slick’s stinginess had seemingly grown. Mike received fewer coins now than he used to, even if he made all the right moves.

“Actually, you can’t have the king of spades,” said Slick. “My bosses up in Washington provided all the spades. And most of the clubs, too, which means they can’t really be touched. Consider black cards mostly off-limits.”

Already feeling a bit cheated, Mike answered, “Doesn’t seem fair, but all right. Give me the queen of hearts.”

“Ooohh, ouch,” whispered the magician with a sigh. “I already promised the entire deck of hearts to law enforcement, prisoners, lawyers and a bunch of other people. Plus, the only way I’d be able to retract most of those promises would be through written contracts. So … how about choosing again?”

“Are you kidding? What’s left to choose from?” Mike spat angrily. 

Anticipating a reduction in funds from the magician, Mike already had to raise the prices at his lemonade stand over the summer.

Still, Mike’s father ordered him to come home with one of the magician’s coins, or else Mike and his family would be in big financial trouble. His father even threatened to close down one of his 10 lemonade stands to save some money.

“I still think you suck, Mr. Slick, but give me the jack of diamonds.”

The magician closed his eyes for a moment and stared into the distance. He thought about his recent travels — Iowa, Nevada, Colorado, Florida, North Carolina, the capital — he hoped to make Washington his permanent home one day. The power of illusion, the glory of power. The poor kid didn’t stand a chance.

“About the diamonds…well…I sincerely apologize, but you can’t have those either,” said Slick. “I reserved those for all the old people in the neighborhood, and if I gave those away, they might not like me anymore.”

Fuming, Mike grabbed a handful of the magician’s fancy tuxedo and yelled, “You imbecile! How do you make a living? You’ve given away your entire deck — there’s nothing left for me or my dying grandmother!”

But Slick, like all good magicians, still had a trick up his sleeve.

“My friend, you’re mistaken,” he said, grinning. “You haven’t chosen any clubs yet. Remember, they’re only mostly off-limits. You can pick from them when the other cards are tied up in contracts. Please choose a club, as long as it’s a face card, and the 10 and the jack don’t count … Oh, and neither does the ace.”

Mike knew what he had to do — he couldn’t disappoint his father, and if he didn’t get at least one coin, his piggy bank might run dry. “I hate you, and you’re terrible. I choose the queen.”

Slick shuffled around his three remaining cards, since 49 of the 52 couldn’t be touched. “And now…drumroll please … I give you … the queen of clubs!”

Mike snatched the card out of his hand and showed the magician that he had, in fact, pulled the king of clubs. 

“You’re wrong!” Mike yelled. “So it’s mine! Finally, something I can take from you. Why does it have to be so hard? What if you have to give some away sometimes, or, God forbid, what if you give away the whole lot? Then what? I guess you’d need a new life, a new job, definitely a new house. It’d suck to be you.”

The magician handed the boy his coin and strolled away towards his mansion.

Mike ran home to present his coin to his father. But when he arrived, his father was standing on the porch shaking his head.

“Son, I told you to be home by five. It’s 5:02.”

“What? No you didn’t. You said be here by six with a coin. Look, I got one!” Mike explained.

“Sorry Mike, you’re going to have to share it with your brother and sister. I know you’ve given up a lot more than them, but it’s only fair since you had the most to take from.”

“What the heck! Can you even do that?” Mike cried. “And Mr. Slick said he already has cards and coins reserved for them. Why dad? Why do they get more?”

“Because son, I say so. They’re my cards.” 

The father ripped off his facemask and revealed his true identity: the magician.                                                     

Ben Wallace is a 21-year-old mass communication senior from Tyler, Texas.