The School Talent Show (M/F)

[Stiletto Amore]

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages, please welcome to the stage the First Lady of Shackles, The Queen of cuffs, the Princess of Padlocks and a woman not afraid to write her own introductions - the Amazing Wanda!”

And with that I Sam Ward, bounded up onto the makeshift stage dressed in my all-purpose magician’s costume.

For the fashion curious among you, this consisted of a pair of thigh high, black leather lace-up, high heeled boots, bright pink fishnet stockings, a black leotard, a long sleeved white dress shirt with wing tipped collar, a matching pink bow-tie and cummerbund, and most excitingly of all a battered old top hat that my Mum had very kindly upholstered.

It was the day of the school talent show and I was about to give my very first, some say debut, public performance.

Stepping into the imaginary spotlight with all the enthusiasm, if not the poise, of Vegas show-girl I was greeted with a polite (if hardly overwhelming) ovation from the audience gathered in the sports hall.

Nonetheless for me, it felt like I was playing the Main stage at Glastonbury.

With my best friend Velma helping out with the props I ran through the line of pater that I had been practising for the last six months as an amateur (read: unpaid) magician, pulling stuffed rabbits from hats, making playing cards disappear, and later reappear in surprising locations etc each of which earning a polite round of applause.

Then it was time for the audience participation portion of the show, which since we were performing in front of the entire teaching body of the school, meant that this was the perfect opportunity to settle some old scores.

For my volunteer I selected our much feared games teacher Mr. Peacock.

A gigantic bull terrier of a man with the face of an Easter Island statue, Mr Peacock took great delight in the terror he installed in pupils and parents alike. A stickler for rules (particularly the school dress code) he was notorious for imposing a series of wildly idiosyncratic, and entirely disproportionate punishments for trivial misdeeds (for instance I was once forced to shovel snow in my shirt sleeves because I had forgotten my games kit)

Voldermort, as he was known behind his back, was feared and loathed in equal measure by several generations of the same family - in short, he was the perfect stooge for my mind reading trick.

His stare was confident and his mouth gently amused when I invited him to join us on the stage.

“Please give a big round of applause for our brave volunteer”

The gathered audience, perhaps fearful of what would happen if they sat on their hands, clapped loudly.

"So, how are you enjoying the show so far" I asked warmly.

"This isn't going to take long is it?!"

"Why, Mr Peacock, am I to understand that you’re not a fan of magic shows?!"

"Ha! Of course not!" he grunted “It’s all make believe isn’t it? Like the Easter Bunny or Father Christmas”

“Wait, Santa isn’t real?” Velma interjected much to the amusement of our audience.

“Of course he is honey” I said, patting my assistant reassuringly on the back.

“Okay, but what if I told you I could use magic to read your mind?"

He rolled his eyes. "Poppycock!"

“You sound very confident of that fact”

“Of course I am” he snorted derisively.

"Hmm, very well, what say we make a little wager?"

“Such as?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe something like, the loser has to do a hundred push ups in front of the whole school”

"Haha! With those puny arms of yours I doubt you could manage ten,.." She said squeezing what passed for my biscepts.

“All the more reason to make the bet to see me fail miserably”

“Okay girly, you’re on!” he said smelling blood in the water, “What are the terms?”

“In a minute I’m going to ask you to hide a card in one of these three envelopes and I’m going to have to guess which one it’s in without looking”

“How?”

“Well if I told you that, it would rather give the game wouldn’t it”

“No, I mean how do I know you won’t look at the envelopes”

“Ah, well because Velma here will blindfold me”

“Miss Daniels?!” he harrumphed dismissively “I wouldn’t trust her with a bucket of water if my house was on fire!”

“Why Mr Peacock, I’m hurt!” Velma said, sounding mock offended.

I couldn’t help but laugh at my best friend’s overacting

“Okay so why don’t you apply my blindfold instead?” I suggested warmly

“You’ll still find a way to cheat. Girls like you always do”

“Very well,” I said, pretending to think “What if I get you to tie me up as well?”

“Hmm, that might work,..” he said, grinning like a shark about to dine out at a seafood restaurant

“Excellent.” I said as Velma produced three, plain brown envelopes and handed them to Mr Peacock.

“Now, can you examine these envelopes and confirm they are all identical?”

Mr Peacock, rather enjoying his moment in the spotlight, turned each of the envelopes in turn before holding them up to the light as though he suspected that I had passed him counterfeit currency.

After what felt like an age he finally announced

“I can confirm they are all the same”

“Wonderful” I said, taking them back and placing them on the table.

“Now, in a minute my glamourous assistant Velma is going to give you a playing card which you’re going to sign and place it in one of these envelopes, but first, as per our agreement, I need you to tie me up,..”

“Well, if you insist” he said with a wicked grin as someone in the audience whooped their approval.

A length of white cord was produced, along with a thick, black scarf.

Mr Peacock's bloated fingers were surprisingly dexterous as he secured my hands firmly behind my back.

“You’ve done this before” I teased as I wriggled in my bonds.

“I had three younger Brothers” he explained as he tightened up the knots on the rope.

“Well, I’d say you’ve done a pretty neat job - in fact I think I feel my fingers turning blue. Now, to make sure I don’t cheat by looking at any of the envelopes I’m going to need you to tie that scarf over my eyes”

Working swiftly but effectively he tied the blindfold tight, rendering me sightless.

“Now I want you to take those envelopes and shuffle them in any way you see fit”

I waited for a moment.

“All done?”

“Yes”

“Awesome sauce. Okay, I’m going to ask to place the playing card into one of the envelopes and hold it up to the audience”

“Have you done that?”

“I have”

“Hurrah! Now I want you to hold up each envelope in turn and tell me if my picture is inside. You can tell the truth, or you can lie - but because I can’t see I’ll have to guess where the picture is hidden based on the sound of your voice alone. Does that sound fair?”

He had to concede that it did.

“Ok. Are you ready?”

“I am”

“Right. So, in your own time”

“Number one!” he said in a bold, clear voice holding up the first of the packets.

“Is my picture in that envelope?”

“No.” he said emphatically.

No one in the audience would have noticed, but Mr Peacock drew a short intake of breath before giving his answer. Was that an indication he was lying?

“Okay, Number two” he said, repeating the pattern.

“And is it in that one?” I asked

“Yes” he said, sounding equally confident.

The stage was eerily quiet. You could hear the proverbial pin drop.

I was starting to doubt myself.

“Last one now!” he announced confidently, holding up the third, and final envelope.

“Is the picture in that one?” I asked, concentrating hard on the sound of his voice.

There was a momentary pause before he answered

“Yes!”

“Hmm, well you must have lied at least once,..” I said, to laughter from much of the audience.

I appeared deep in thought for a moment before dramatically snatching my hands free from my ropes and tearing open the last envelope and showing off the playing card to the audience.

“And is that your card?” I said boldly, proudly displaying my loot.

The crowd applauded warmly as I moved on to the highlight of my routine - the part where I would challenge an audience member to tie me up with 100ft of rope.

“So, care to make it double or nothing?” I asked with a grin.

“I’ve had quite enough card tricks for the evening” he grunted sulkily.

“Ah, but this would be different. This would be a test of tangible strength, mental dexterity and physical endurance”

“And no cards?”

“And no cards” I assured him.

“Well, what is it?!”

At that point Velma, who was dressed in a bright red ringmasters jacket, revealed two, straight backed wooden chairs, along with two lengths of thick rope.

“A simple escape challenge. We both get tied to chairs. The winner is the one who escapes the quickest-”

“And the loser?”

“Does 200 press ups in front of the school”

“200?,.. Ok, you’re on!” he snapped hungrily, shaking my hand.

I began by explaining the terms and conditions to the audience, essentially Mr Peacock had the opportunity to tie me to one of the chairs, then he, in turn, would be tied to the other chair by Velma.

I would only win if I escaped first.

There was a time limit of fifteen minutes set for escaping.

Not that I planned to need them.

I then invited the games tutor to choose between two coils of white boating cord roughly half an inch thick.

“So, do you think you can stop me from getting free?”

“Tsk. Of course!” He snorted derisively. “You’re just a girl”

There were some gasps and catcalls from the audience. Of course this was one the reasons I prefered to select male volunteers to tie me up - it was almost comically easy to bait them into displaying rampant sexism. Not only that, but they were usually too busy showing off to make a good job of tying me up (Hashtag Feminism)

“Oh, really, then maybe you'd care to increase the stakes?” I teased.

“Name them!” He said firmly.

“If I win, you have to promise not to give any more detentions for the rest of the term”

“And when I win?”

“I promise not to ask any more questions during assembly for one, entire, school year”

He thought for a moment. This was big stakes, for both of us.

Of course I had no intention of losing.

“It’s a deal!”

Suitibly emboldened, there was a brief cessation in the festivities as Mr Peacock studiously examined both lengths of rope before finally selecting one

(in reality, they were both completely identical)

He began by wrapping several coils around my wrists and arms, pinning me to the chair, before passing it over my lap and beneath the chair seat and tying it off with, what I immediately identified as a rudimentary shank knot.

However, whilst he appeared confident, not to say a little brash, (bordering on cocky) in reality of course, it’s actually extremely difficult to immobilise anyone for long with a piece of rope this long and unwieldy and, in my experience the volunteer will usually resort to winding great coils of rope around my arms and legs in an effort to use up all of the material at their disposal.

After taking a breather (he was really sweating a great deal through his suit) he started using the excess rope to tie my feet to the chair legs by winding roughly half the remaining rope round and under my thigh, before repeating the same maneuver on the opposite leg.

With only a few feet left Mr Peacock completed his shift by tying a passable knot on the last turn around my ankle.

By the time he was finished I had been enveloped in great swathes of rope.

I certainly looked helpless enough, however it quickly became apparent (at least to me) that Mr Peacocks mastery of ropes was somewhat less than total. The knots were large and bulky, and despite appearances there was plenty of wriggle room in my restraints. Once I could slip my hands free, it would simply be a matter of redistributing slack until I was free.

But first things first.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking” I said, shifting in my seat “You’re thinking, well sure, 'she looks pretty helpless tied up like that' But of course, we both know that magician's lie”

There was a faint murmur of recognition and agreement from the crowd.

“So, in order to prevent me from picking the knots with my teeth, I’m going to ask you to take my pocket square and use it to gag me,..”

Well, Mr Peacock didn’t need to be asked twice and began tugging at the pink scarf I wore in the breast pocket of my tuxedo jacket,.. which was tied to another one,.. and another one,.. and another,..

Seven scarves later he finally reached the end of the chain.

Angrily he removed the pink bandana from the rest and pulled it as tight as he possibly could between my teeth before knotting it behind my head.

“Silenced hm phhm patriarchy ngain” I mumbled to ripples of laughter from the crowd.

Of course, I couldn't begin my escape attempt until Velma had finished tying my challenger to the other chair so I waited patiently as Mr Peacock took the seat he was offered and looked quizzically as Velma cut two short strands of rope from the coil.

With practised skill she crossed his hands behind the chair and fastened them securely in both directions with a series of firm knots.

The second yard of rope was then used to bind his ankles in a similar fashion.

For a final touch Velma used Mr Peacocks own necktie, a hideous paisley pattern, to gag him.

To our audience, we presented a startling contrast - I was swathed in coils of rope all over, while Mr Peacock seemed to be hardly barely tied at all. Instinctively, everyone imagines that the more rope is used, the more difficult it must be to escape from. In practice of course, it’s almost the opposite.

Not that I was about to share this information with anyone (or could for that matter,..)

Finally I instructed Velma to ‘start the clock’ although it sounded somewhat closer to “Fthrt thm glhgg!”

With all eyes fixed on my bound frame I immediately began to work on my wrists which, although they were both encased in a lot of rope, were far from effectively tied. Within seconds I had slipped first one, then the second hand free. Now all I had to do was somehow generate enough slack in the coils around my arms,..

In less than a minute I had worked the rope loose enough to push it up over my shoulders and over my head. After dumping that section of cord on the floor (which landed with an extremely satisfying thud) I was able to lean forward in my seat and begin the arduous process of untangling my legs.

After a brief struggle I was finally able to untie the knot around my left ankle. Once that was free I was able to kick my leg free of the thick mess of cords and step out. Seconds later I had worked myself entirely free of the ropes.

“Stop the clock” I shouted, pulling down my gag.

Standing on the chair surrounded by coils of rope I acknowledged the enthusiastic applause. Mr Peacock, who had spent the last few minutes thrashing about without success, ended his struggles and slumped forward in his chair defeated.

“That will teach you for making us run cross country in a force 10 gale” I whispered in his ear as I took my bows.

Our triumph was complete.

The final score reads: Girly swots 7, Bullying games teacher Zero

[TamatoaShiny123]

Good triumphs over evil again! XD

[Stiletto Amore]

Good triumphs over evil again! XD

It's the feel good story of the year

[Beaumains]

Nice little story! Wanda certainly has more talent than anyone ordinarily has on school talent shows.

[Stiletto Amore]

Nice little story! Wanda certainly has more talent than anyone ordinarily has on school talent shows.

Thank you kindly
Hehe! Without wishing to disparage any of my fellow artists, the acts either side of my performance were a girl playing the recorder and a 12 person improv troupe

[slackywacky]

Fun read, thank you for posting.