The Magic Hour 5000 - By Eric Filipkowski
Re-Write 11/13/2002
Int.
Support group meeting room -daY
A group of adults sit in
a circle. Most look worn out and beaten
down with sadness. Some drink
coffee. A man in his 40's with a beard,
SVEN PETERS, enters and closes the door behind him. He grabs a chair, flips it around and sits on it backwards to 'rap'
with the group.
Sven
Well, I
think we're ready to start. I want to
thank everyone for coming and welcome you to the Augora Hills Parents of Dead
Children Support Group. My name is Sven
and I have spent the last 20-plus years of my life touring the country as a
professional magician. I think you'll
find that this offers me certain insights into peoples' pain which aren't
afforded to those with a more casual sensitivity to human nature. So who would like to start?
Some of the people seem
surprised at Sven's credentials, but most are so deeply into their grief that
they don't notice. A woman in her 40's,
SALLY BENSON, raises her hand.
Sally
(hesitant)
Excuse me,
did you say you're a magician?
SVEN
That's
right, but we can't start the healing if we don't know your name. So why don't you tell us a little bit about
yourself and the tragic, tragic circumstances that brought you here.
SALLY
(hesitant)
Well... My
name is Sally Benson and last April my son Timmy passed on, he was just 8 years
old. It was terrible, right in the
middle of little league. He never even
saw it coming! Those goddam aluminum
bats!
Sally breaks down
crying. The woman next to her puts her
arm around her to comfort her.
SVEN
Yes,
tragic. So tragic. You know, as a professional magician, I've
travelled the world and met lots of people.
Your story reminds me of a really nice fellow I met just outside of New
Orleans. Come to think of it, he was an
aluminum salesman. So before we go
damning a whole industry, one that supplies honest, hardworking folks with a
decent living and a means to feed their families, let's think about what we're
saying and how it's going to affect other people, OK Sally?
Sally is enraged at
Sven's callous insensitivity, but before she can say anything, a grief-stricken
man on the other side of the circle gets up to speak. He speaks in a low, tired voice and doesn't lift his eyes from
the floor.
Tom
My name is
Tom, I just lost my 8 week old baby daughter, Kimberly. One night, we went to check on her and there
she was, so still and peaceful, almost like she was sleeping. Now my life is a waking nightmare, nothing
seems to matter with her gone. I can't
stop thinking about all the wonderful things she'll never experience...
SVEN
Wow, what
a bummer. I'm getting a little choked
up here. You know, all of us have
experienced loss like yours. Your story
reminds me of how I lost my own little guy.
His name was Buddy. Sometimes
I'd take him out of his suitcase and tuck him into a little bed I made. I'd sit there in the dark, watching him
sleep and I'd pretend like he was my own son.
But then one night, after a show, a woman referred to him as a 'doll' and
I lost my temper. I guess her teenage
son didn't appreciate me calling his mother a whore, so him and his punk
friends jumped me and stole Buddy. That
was the last time I ever saw him. So
Tom, I think you should be thankful you were able to give your daughter a
proper burial and say goodbye, because I never got that chance with Buddy.
Most of the group looks
horrified at what Sven has said, but Tom actually looks better.
TOM
Thanks
Sven, you really gave me some valuable perspective on the issue.
SVEN
That's
what I'm here for, buddy. Buddy? Ouch.
Sven takes a minute to
compose himself as he remembers his departed friend. A woman timidly rises.
Sarah
Is it all
right if I go next?
SVEN
(cheerful)
Sure
thing, just tell us your name and what brings you here tonight.
SARAH
My name is
Sarah Parker and last year my daughter, Amanda, killed herself. She had just turned 15 and we all thought
she was a happy, well-adjusted girl.
She was so pretty, always smiling.
We never had any idea she was depressed. How could I have missed something like that? She was my baby and it was my job to watch
out for her. But I couldn't do
that. I let her down. I failed.
Sarah puts her head in
her hands and starts sobbing softly.
Sven walks over to her and puts his hand on her shoulder. He kneels down in front of her and speaks to
her.
SVEN
Sarah, listen
to me. You're right, it sounds like you
were a terrible mother, but that's in the past now. Your daughter is dead and there's nothing you can do about it. You know, sometimes, when I'm working on a
new trick, I'll get hung up at some point, and I'll scream up at the ceiling
for Houdini to float down to earth and help me out, but he can't, because he's
dead. And so is your daughter. I've accepted it, now it's your turn.
Sven gets up and walks
back to his seat, as Sarah starts crying even harder. Another woman gets up to speak, but Sven cuts her off.
Polly
Can I go
now?
SVEN
Oh I'm
sorry, there's no time, maybe next week.
So while we've still got about twenty minutes left, I thought I'd do
some magic tricks for everybody to lift our spirits. Because really, if I've learned anything as a professional
magician, it's that nothing cheers people up like a good old fashioned magic
show.
Sven pulls out a deck of
cards and starts doing some basic magic tricks. Everybody looks miserable.
Polly looks confused. Sven
stumbles and drops the cards on Sarah's head.
Sven grabs a magic wand and opens up a bouquet of flowers right in
Sally's face, startling her.
POLLY
Wait a
minute, aren't we supposed to end each meeting with a life-affirming prayer of
some sort? My therapist told me...
Sven keeps juggling while
he cuts off Polly.
SVEN
(condescending)
That's
fine for him, ma'am, but as I'm not a licensed therapist, I do things a little
differently. I'm a professional
magician and the way we end meetings in this group is with magic tricks.
Sally
(disbelief)
Wait a
minute, what the hell? You're not even
a licensed therapist?
Sarah
You
asshole! You've been putting us through
all this pain and you don't even know what you're doing? You monster!
Tom gets between Sarah
and Sally as they advance on Sven.
Tom
Ladies,
ladies, let's not get crazy here. I'm
sure Sven has a reasonable explanation for all of this...
SaraH
You idiot. What are you defending him for? Because some kids stole his dummy he's
somehow qualified to help us deal with our problems?
TOM
Now
there's no need to resort to name-calling.
I'm no idiot and it's disrespectful of the dead to call Sven's son a dummy.
Sally
He's a
magician, you jerk. That wasn't his
son, it was part of his stupid act.
TOM
(grasping)
No...
No... You're mistaken. The stuff about
the suitcase, that was all a metaphor, right Sven? Tell them.
Sven
Hey, I
don't have to defend myself to you people.
I loved Buddy like he was a real boy.
He was a better child than your little brats ever were!
TOM
(rage)
Oh my
God! How dare you? I'm going to shove that stupid wand so far
up your...
The group advances on
Sven, but they all freeze at the 'cloppity clop' sound of wooden shoes in the
hallway. Sven looks up.
SVEN
(expectant)
Buddy?!?!
A small wooden man in a
rumpled tuxedo enters the room, walking stiffly, his unbending arms
outstretched. He looks as if he's been
roughed up and stuck in someone's trunk for ten years, but he is missing no
major parts.
Buddy
(stiff
robot voice)
Father!
Sven runs to Buddy and
they embrace. Everyone softens at the
touching moment. Lights go down on
everyone but Tom.
Tom
Sven
taught us so much that day about belief and forgiveness and most of all,
hope. At the very moment my faith began
to die, that little wooden miracle gave me the strength to believe that
anything is possible. Which is why I'm
going to spend every day of my life doing my best to believe in magic, so that
one day, my little girl will come back to life too.
LIGHTS OUT.