The Ninth Illusion
A tale of Black Magic going horribly wrong when it goes horribly right.
The Great Splendido sat in cuffs inside the holding cell
As Sergeant Ingrams read his file and muttered, “Chuffin’ Hell.”
The arrest was made at ten o’clock just half an hour before
To stop a railway suicide (which was against the law).
“Why is the prisoner in cuffs?” the Sergeant asked the guards.
“He’s hiding items up his sleeves and wants us to pick cards.
There’s evil cunning in his eye. He doesn’t look too sane.
Wearing a top hat and cloak and bullfighting a train.”
The Sergeant pressed the tape machine and tapped the microphone.
“Please state your name, and date of birth, and where you call your home.”
“I am the Great Splendido!” he screamed a mighty boom.
“Third of May. Aged 22. The Exotic Pet Shop’s spare room.
“What’s a young man dressed up for in Jack the Ripper attire?
Are you really suicidal, or just a train-spotting vampire?”
“I am the Great Splendido,” he repeated mournfully,
“And sad to say, I must confess, Black Magic has cursed me.”
“You see when I was just a lad for my tenth birthday party
My parents hired a magician, the Amazing Moriarty.
Now he was old and past his prime, not in the finest health,
But since no other children came, I had him to myself.
“My levitations wouldn’t lift. My watches all stayed smashed.
My doves all flew for moments before back to earth they crashed.
My metal rings would not connect, my escape act was inhibited,
And as for sawing Gran in half … let’s say success was limited.