He would get butterflies in his stomach before every show. The butterflies wove endless silk handkerchiefs, which he pulled out of his mouth in succession. Everyone thought he was a magician. He was too ashamed to tell anyone of his strange biology.

He tried to learn tricks, but his sleight of hand wasn’t sleight enough, so he kept on pulling handkerchiefs (and the odd stocking) out of his mouth. The crowds soon lost interest in his limited act.

One day, only loose threads of a very sticky consistency came out of his mouth. He would grab handfuls of the stuff, and wipe them on his shirt, hoping something more coherent would issue next. Only the loose fibers. Soon he was covered in the stuff, a pillar of fine threads, which hardened into a thick gold-green luminescent shell.

He stood there for days. Other acts would play around him. Some would drape their cables and props on the lumpy being. Sometimes rustling sounds would issue from inside, but never any words.

People assumed he was attempting some extreme feat of magical escapism and endurance, and let him be.

Finally, the club owners could take no more. They took a crowbar to the shell, and cracked it open. Inside, they found no sign of the “magician,” only a pile of caterpillars.

–Dan Kilian


Magic Related Nonsense


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