dylanbrody.com

I like to support the arts.

I met a man on my way into 7-11. An unemployed magician. He said, “I got a quarter in my pocket. I can make it disappear.”

I said, “Show me.”

He snapped his fingers and said, “It’s gone.”

“Wow,” I said. “Where’d it go?”

He said, “Check your pocket.”

Sure enough, there was a bright shiny quarter amongst all my other loose change. I said, “How do I know it’s yours?”

He said, “Check the date.”

“1992,” I told him.

“Yep. That’s mine.”

So I gave it back to him.

He said, “You want to see another one?”

I did.

He asked if I had a ten dollar bill. I said, “All I have is a twenty.”

He said it would do. He took the twenty-dollar bill from me and folded it up real small. When he unfolded again, right in front of me, no abracadabras, no alacazams, it had transformed into a fiver. He handed it back to me.

I said, “Change it back, now.”

He said, “If I could turn fives into twenties, I wouldn’t need to be out here working for tips.”

“Oh!” I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was supposed to tip you.” I gave him the five. It was the least I could do for a struggling artist. Besides, for all I knew, that quarter he had transported from his pocket to mine might have been the only money he had.

He said, “Thanks,” and I went into the store to buy milk for my morning coffee.

As I came out, the magician approached another man. He said, “I got a quarter in my pocket. I can make it disappear.”

I knew what was coming, so I watched as closely as I could.  I swear, I didn’t see him do anything but snap his fingers.

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