Barnaby Buttercup, renowned for his slightly dodgy magic act, was in trouble. His usual pigeon-releasing trick had gone south (literally – the pigeons flew straight into Mrs. Higgins’ prize-winning petunias). His disappearing-coin act had failed spectacularly – the coin was still firmly lodged in his ear. And his “sawing-a-lady-in-half” illusion had resulted in a very grumpy, and very intact, Agnes Plumtree. His agent, a perpetually stressed chihuahua named Mr. Snugglesworth, whimpered, “Barnaby, we need a new act! ‘Same tricks, new victims!’ is no longer working!”
Barnaby stroked his chin, a stray feather from one of the errant pigeons clinging to his waistcoat. “Mr. Snugglesworth, my dear fellow, you’ve inspired me! We shall perform at the annual village fête!”
The fête was buzzing. Barnaby, resplendent in a slightly-too-tight sequined jacket, began his act. He attempted the disappearing-coin trick again. This time, he pulled a very confused rabbit from his ear instead. The audience gasped. He then tried the pigeon release. This time, a flock of unusually fluffy, brightly coloured ducks soared into the air, squawking hilariously. Finally, he attempted the sawing-a-lady-in-half routine with the mayor’s niece, Millie.
As Barnaby dramatically “sawed” Millie (who was, for some reason, dressed as a giant carrot), a loud CRASH echoed from behind the curtain. The audience turned to see the curtain ripped apart, revealing a very large, very angry, and very intact, Agnes Plumtree wielding a saw, glaring furiously.
“Well, now there’s three of us!” Agnes declared, tossing Barnaby’s saw to the ground. “Who wants to try this again?” The audience, including a very pale Millie, burst into laughter. Barnaby, however, looked decidedly less amused. His “same tricks, new victims” strategy had reached its hilarious, and slightly terrifying, peak.
