What Elephants&;#063;

WHAT ELEPHANTS?

Ron Isaacs

"What exactly do you do?" asked the cinema owner.

"I am the ultimate in magicians!" announced Terence, with a flourish
of his hand.

"Oh, a conjuror!" came the instant response.

Terence leapt up angrily, all six feet extended. Bliss stared back,
blinking. He took in the details of the brash young man before him.
Flushed face, framed by a thick mop of auburn curls, and a pointed
beard, mottled auburn and black. Blazing brown eyes, faded blue denim
jeans and a shabby purple T-shirt. "A magician, a magus, an initiate!"
menaced Terence.

"All right, all right," muttered Bliss, collecting himself, "I get the
drift, sit down and we'll discuss details."

The Paragon Cinema was meant to be something different. Bliss liked to
feel that he was special, so, naturally, would any business venture he
initiated. There was obviously a need in this North London suburb for
an exclusive, out-of-the-rut cinema. Different kind of films, cartoons,
newsreels, emphasis on service, and last but not least, the Special
Feature. A number of unknown but ambitious young performers had already
gained a start by treading the Paragon boards, in the slot between the
newsreel and the big film, All conceived to serve those who had a
hankering after the now almost extinct old-fashioned Picture
Palaces.

"A one-night stand for a try-out, and if you are any good you continue
on a week-by-week basis."

"How much?" queried Terence.

"Depends on the takings for the week, but I can manage twenty quid for
the trial night and a hundred for the week."

"It's not as much as I anticipated," whispered Terence, then louder,
"but it's a start, so put it there!"

The two shook hands. "To show there's no ill feelings" laughed Bliss
"let's seal the contract with a noggin. What'll you have?"

Terence stood up. "Well, I am partial to a Guinness."

Bliss crossed the room to a filing cabinet, and from the bottom draw
produced a bottle. "I did hope you'd ask for a Scotch," he laughed,
"because that's all there is!"

"Bright and early, are you emigrating or something?" Bliss pointed to
the boxes littered around the stage door. "And you don't intend to
perform in those rags, do you?"

"Good grief no! I've got all my gear in those boxes, and that includes
the dress."

"Let me be dad." offered Bliss, picking up a portmanteau. "We can shift
this lot inside together - no-one else has turned up yet."

Terence heaved a box over his back and followed Bliss to the space
which had been cleared in one of the wings.

"Do you reckon you can do a dry run?" suggested the boss, "By the time
you are ready my staff will have come and we can all be your
audience."

"OK by me," replied Terence, "I have everything here."

The curtain rose to the organ strains of "That Old Black Magic". In the
centre of the stage stood a figure clad strikingly in black. Gone were
the shabby jeans and T-shirt. Terence was resplendent in evening dress,
complete with cape and top hat. In his right hand he held a black wand.
Under the hat Bliss felt that the beard gave a Mephistophelian aspect.
From the stage came a call for a volunteer from the audience. The burly
figure of Sid the Commissionaire mounted the steps to the stage.
Already clad in his maroon uniform with gold-braided peaked cap and
sergeant's stripes of gold piping, he was certainly ready for a
jostling crowd, so no doubt a tame juggler would be easy meat.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" called the prestidigitator, "May I have an
affirmation that nobody here knows me, and that this gentleman has
never met me before?"

"That's OK Terry," yelled Bliss, "I can guarantee that I have never
clapped eyes on you!" The handful of staff in the auditorium
laughed.

The sorcerer turned to Sid. "That's a fine uniform you have there, my
man," he drawled, pompously, "but from time to time one finds clutter
in such voluminous pockets." He poked his wand into the left pocket and
hooked out a bath towel. The right pocket was next - the wand emerged
with a white pigeon perched on it. The audience shrieked with laughter.
"And your cap, really!" Terence removed the peaked cap, a flick and it
unloaded a pack of playing cards, which fluttered across the stage.
Sid's ruddy face turned a shade purple.

Bliss spoke through a mouthful of roast and Yorkshire. "We are dead
lucky to have this place so near. You don't often find a good
old-fashioned inn just over the road. A big mean for peanuts and a pint
within easy reach!"

Terence leaned back and contemplated his virgin pint. "Where I used to
work" he mused "we had one quite close. They dished up enormous meals
of chips with everything. Egg 'n chips, pie 'n chips, sausage 'n chips,
burger 'n chips et cetera, with multiple combinations thereof."

Bliss swallowed from his bitter. As his eyes rolled ecstatically he
puzzled "I can't see how they do it, prices being what they are."

"All in the line of business I should think." rejoined Terence. "The
booze makes you hungry and the food makes you thirsty. You might almost
say the grub is a loss leader."

"Oh yeah, a sprat to catch a mackerel!" laughed Bliss. "You know,
you're quite a business man. I should have invested in a boozer!"

Terence replied in a confidential tone, "You probably don't appreciate
that you have used a couple of gizmos to make one picture-house
flourish while others are floundering."

Chuckled Bliss, "You, for example? Talking of gimmicks, I often wonder
where people like you make things come from! I bet it's all in your
cloak!"

Terence affected a sepulchral tone. "The job of a magician is to
conceal and deceive. If someone like you wants to believe something
which is not true, you help me to hide the truth."

"Reminds me of a story," returned Bliss. "This conjuror...er...sorry,
magician, was doing a show, and a smart-Alec kept yelling out "Got is
up yer sleeve!" So the poor guy got really worried and worked out how
to get his own back. He persuaded the smarty to lend him his watch,
smashed it with up a hammer and swept the bits into a black velvet bag.
`It's up yer sleeve!' mocked the owner. The magician touched the bag
with his wand then poured the bits into the clever lad's lap. 'Ere,
where's my watch?' he snapped, realising something had gone amiss.
Grinning, the performer snapped back, `Up yer sleeve!'""

Patrons bustled across the foyer as the two returned from their meal.
Sid the commissionaire pushed through and confronted them. "Before we
went to lunch some silly twit left the stage door unlocked!" he gasped.
"Some blighter got in and knocked off all the props!" Together with the
senior projectionist they made their way back-stage.

"That's goodbye to all my gear," wailed Terence, as they rummaged
through the remaining bits and pieces, "opera togs and all!"

Bliss scratched his head. "Well, what do we do about your act?"

Terence pondered for a moment, "It's going to be difficult, but I think
I'll be able to improvise just as I am."

Bliss's face was flushed. "But how can you do a turn like yours with
nowhere to hide your stuff?"

Terence looked him squarely in the eye. "The show must go on, leave it
to me!"

The curtain went up. All the audience saw was a lanky, bearded young
man in dilapidated jeans and T-shirt. Above the murmur he shouted "May
I have a volunteer from the audience?" The auditorium was hushed.
Terence noticed Bliss taking a seat I the front row. No-one responded
to Terence's call, so Bliss went up himself.

"You'll have to make do with me, son." he whispered.

Terence pulled a red handkerchief from Bliss's left ear, a white one
from his right and a blue one from his mouth. From the left trouser leg
he tugged what looked like an enormous multi-coloured bed-sheet. As it
was waved it billowed out, covering the stage and concealing it from
the audience. Suddenly, as quickly as it was covered, the stage was
clear. There, marching around, trumpeting in triumph, were six
elephants! The audience went wild with surprise and delight. The
elephants marched off the stage, three down the left aisle, three down
the right. They went past the cheering patrons towards, then through,
the big doors leading to the foyer.
Bliss, for what seemed an eternity, was transfixed to the spot with
horror. Then, making a supreme effort, he jumped off the stage and ran
through a nearby emergency exit. He sprinted down the outside of the
cinema and entered at the front. Apart from Sid the foyer was quite
empty! Panic-stricken, he turned to the door-man,

"What's happened to the elephants?"

"Elephants sir, what elephants?"

? R. J. Isaacs, 2000