Magicians: An Editorial From The Mind of an Eight Year Old

         What is wrong with him? I mean, this is my birthday party. I didn’t even really want a magician but my Mom told me that was what I was getting. She thinks she knows what’s cool. She doesn’t. But I guess magic is kind of okay. Kind of. But this guy is stupid. He’s wobbly like what kind of magician can’t even stand straight? He keeps asking all the moms and dads for a table. Why didn’t you bring your own table, dude? You’re ruining my party completely. He has such a dumb name too. I can’t even remember it. Tan something. Doll… fo… dufus!

            He’s doing it again! He keeps drinking from this shiny square jug he keeps in his pocket. He smiles weird after he drinks it too. What a weirdo. Oh great. He just made a girl cry. I mean, I know girls are basically the worst there is but come on. Even I don’t make girls cry. Finally! He asked me to come on stage with him but there definitely isn’t a stage so I’m not going to pretend…I mean this is my living room. Idiot. He says, “since you’re part of the show, you have to wear a costume,” and then he puts this dumb hat on me and called me a “handsome fellow”. Okay, no. I don’t wear hats, my red hair is distraction enough and I don’t even know what a fellow is but I’m not one. He won’t shut up about this hat which is really annoying but I feel better if I can annoy him so I think that’s what I’ll do. He’s getting more and more mad which is funny for me. His weird makeup is starting to sweat off too. Dummy, what boy wears makeup? He didn’t even saw anyone in half.