The proffered glass glides across the table and into Barabbas’ hand.“What no Gatorade?”
It’s a causal remark (not to mention a good trick) from the magician considering this was likely his last request. But there was no time to be incredulous now. Few make it out of my little basement workshop, and those who do wish they hadn’t.
“Howdya you do it? Pay off a dealer? Counting cards?”
“Meh.”
“Should I tell Jerry the two-million magically appeared in your pocket?”
“Sometimes the cards just need a little…nudge.” This is punctuated by a slight rattle from the tools hanging above the workbench. The human cannonball is performing on the stage above.
“Fine. Have it your way.” I select a screwdriver from the counter, “This is a trap even Barabbas the Great cannot escape.”
A claw hammer hovers slightly off the counter. As I advance it swivels menacingly in my direction.
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