The following story is true, but I feel a need to set the record straight as my friends who know the story have told and retold it, and it has taken on a perverse life of its own. By their telling, the listener will mentally picture the graphic on the left. The truth is far more mundane.
Allow me to explain.
Having always been interested in magic and prestidigitation since the age of six, in 1975 I embarked on a quest to become a professional stage magician. Residing in Philadelphia at the time, I had ample opportunity for shows and eventually covered all of Philly and a small chunk of New Jersey and Deleware. In late 1976, I moved to south-central Pennsylvania and decided to add a rabbit illusion to my expanding repertoire.
Now magicians prefer one of two breeds of rabbits to work with: Polish Miniatures or Netherland Dwarves, two kinds that are quite small, can sit comfortably in a tiny box, and remain quiet and docile. Heading off to a local rabbit breeder, I told the gentleman my need. He nodded sagely and went off to his barn returning with a tiny black bunny with a white bib and one white foot.
I named him Antares and immediately began training him for my show. He turned out to be an amiable soul, and we worked together very well. In my presentations, I would walk on stage with two wooden boxes, show them empty, and when nested together there would be a small puff of smoke and flame, and to the delight of my audience, I would reach inside to produce Antares.
He became a huge hit.
Unfortunately, the rabbit breeder that sold me Antares did not exactly tell me the truth. Instead of a Polish Miniature or a Netherland Dwarf, Antares was a New Zealand Giant, and he began to grow.
And grow and grow.
Eventually, my finale would consist of me carrying one box in my left hand and practically dragging the one containing Antares in my right. Occasionally, an ear or leg might pop out that would somewhat destroy the illusion, but the presentation of a live rabbit from a ball of flame covered many an error.
However, Antares was retired after one show where the illusion did not work as well as it should.
Little did I know on that fateful night, that the interior box where Antares was concealed had sprung its latch and Antares' little furry butt was sticking out of the box. When I ignited the flash powder, I regret to say that his hair momentarily caught on fire and with a scream, he leaped out of the box and began running around the stage being followed by a trail of smoke. And if you never heard a rabbit scream, be grateful. It will set your teeth on edge.
Fortunately, the act of jumping out of the box put the flame out immediately, and it was a matter of moments for me to catch the frightened rabbit, beat the smoke out of his derriere with my hand, and with a grimace I held him up for the audience to see.
There was no applause for me that night.
Antares was retired immediately, and there was no harm done to him. Aside from some burnt fur, there was no damage to his skin, and he continued being the Lapine friend whose company I enjoyed for years. There is no need to report me to PETA or the SPCA.
Today, I call myself retired from performing magic, but it does not take me much persuasion to come out of retirement. So, I continue to do the occasional odd show for family-friendly non-profits, but I no longer work with rabbits or fire.
I have better peace of mind that way.
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