Exposition
“Are you sure the ropes are tight enough?” Bernie Mingo challenged his two volunteers.
His two volunteers, satisfied with the job they did tying up Mingo, shook their heads in agreement. As they did, Mingo’s wife-assistant, Carla, brought a huge, black satin screen out from behind the stage and placed it in front of Mingo. In a matter of seconds, Mingo was free of all bonds, chains and handcuffs. The audience broke into tumultuous applause and Mingo acknowledged his fans. It was the end of the show and Mingo was to have dinner with his manager right after he got changed. As he went into the dressing room, he stood in front of the mirror and flexed his muscles.
“Not bad for man of 46, huh Carla?”
“Oh shut-up, Bernie. Please.”
“Listen Carla I could have married somebody else for that stuff.”
“Alright, alright.”
Carla thought her husband was a real jerk. He had no emotions, a complete lack of consideration for others and above anything else, he was singularly focused on his craft. He was always considering new escape tricks. He lived to be better than the great Houdini. She couldn’t help but laugh to herself when she thought of the time that he was sound asleep, wrestled with the covers, freed himself and stood up and took a bow.
“What ya laughin’ at?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all, Bernie.”
At the table waiting for Mingo was his manager, Jack Buxton. He could sense Mingo had something important on his mind. He’s probably thinking of some new trick, Buxton surmised correctly.
“Jack, I have an idea.”
“Bernie, you always have ideas. What gives?”
“Well I thought that the only way I am going to prove to people that I’m better than Houdini is to do something that he never did.”
“What?!”
“Well, I figured it this way; if I get you to do a lot of work, we could pull this off. First, get the newspapers and the TV stations interested, have the mayor come and a huge crowd.”
“But what are you going to do, Bernie”
“I’ll be handcuffed, tied with fifty feet of rope, put in a huge sack and then place in an enormous metal tank. Then after that, you’ll drop me in Lake Lovane and I will make my great escape.”
“How in the hell you gonna pull this off?”
“Well, the handcuffs are no problem and when they tie me up, I will expand my chest so that the ropes will be loose when I exhale. The tank will have a trick bottom.”
“Bernie, I’m glad you figured it all out.”
Somehow the meal tasted much better to Mingo as he thought of his impending fame.
The Side Story
Carla was sick of her husband and his antics. She was having an affair with Bernie’s best friend, Gerry. Gerry thought of times when Bernie wouldn’t make his escape and he’d have Carla to himself. Carla was very much of the same mind at times and this was one of them. This time, Carla was going to make certain that Bernie didn’t come back. She had no fears when she replaced the key to the handcuffs. As Mingo’s assistant, she was in charge of the pre-illusion checklist. She would be certain that Mingo would enter the sack with the wrong key.
The Illusion
The day had arrived and Mingo was very proud of himself. He stood in place with an exultant air. He was king today and no one would ruin his day. No one. As they tied him up, he secretly expanded his chest so the rope would fall off when he exhaled. Part one accomplished, he thought. They helped him with the handcuffs but no one noticed the tiny key in his mouth. Then they placed him in the sack and into the metal tank. They put the tank on the boat and Carla and Jack boarded with him. The captain started the boat and motored out toward the middle of Lake Lovane, where he cut the engine.
“Let ‘er go,” Buxton said.
The iron chest fell into the water and vanished from sight. Carla cried out feebly but Jack told her not to worry.
Then they waited.
Buxton looked at his watch. When thirty seconds passed, he looked at Carla reassuringly.
Then they waited some more.
The captain began whistling off-tune. At the end of five minutes, the captain was quite concerned.
“He’s not coming up, Mr Buxton.”
At the end of eight minutes, Carla Mingo fainted into the arms of Buxton.
They recovered Mingo’s handcuffed body later that day.
The Climax
At the funeral, a eulogy was given that would make anyone who knew Bernie cry. Carla was putting on a good act by crying the Mississippi.
As the pallbearers set the coffin down next to the grave site, one of them offhandedly mentioned how light the coffin felt.
Another pallbearer said, “yeah, he’s right. Bernie was a hefty guy and this thing hardly weighs anything.”
They looked at the coffin and finally Buxton said, “I hate to do this but I think this needs to be opened.”
The minister was about to complain but Buxton had the coffin open before he could say anything.
“What’s happening?” asked Carla. “What’s going on, Jack?”
“Keep back,” he pleaded. “I don’t want you to see this.”
But there was no way for her to avoid it. The lid was open and the truth was revealed to all.
The coffin was empty and Carla Mingo was screaming like the high wind among the tree tops.
The Resolution
“Go on, Mr. Buxton. I want to hear it all.”
“You have to understand how it is in my business, Doctor. Everything is showmanship. Everything. That’s why Mingo made this deal with me 10, maybe 12 years ago.”
“What was the deal?”
“Nobody but me and him knew about it. It was crazy. He made me promise that if anything ever happened to him, I mean if he died, I would arrange one last trick. That was it Doc.”
“A trick?”
“A real easy one. I just slipped the undertaker a Ben Franklin and he arranged to have MIngo buried someplace else in secret. Then he put an empty coffin in the hearse and that was that. You see what I mean? Honest-to-goodness showmanship.”
“Yes, I see,” said the Doctor frowning. “But I’m afraid that it had quite an effect on Mrs. Mingo. I gather she wasn’t too well balanced before this happened, and now…”
He sighed and stood up. “Alright, Mr. Buxton. I can have you see her but I’m sorry, you will not be able to speak to her. I’m sorry.”
Buxton followed the doctor down the hall. They stopped at a door with a small, barred window. Buxton looked inside. He looked inside and drew back all in one motion. He was appalled at the sight of Carla, her eyes round and unseeing, her arms straining uselessly from the tight, unrelenting grip of the straight jacket.
Possibly Related Posts:
Politics is infuriating. As a political science major, I never gave much thought to the nefariousness of politics. Rather, I concentrated on what it could mean as opposed to what it means today. Politics is an art that is built upon social relations, power and authority. The early definition of the word was Greek and introduced by Aristotle. Then, it was about the structure, organization and administration of the city and state. It is why Greece became the first great nation. Today, it’s about obtaining a position of power and control by using intrigue and strategy. Nothing gets done because everything is about positioning.
