Nothing Up My Sleeve

I pass my lonely hours by playing solitaire. Not a digital version on the computer, but with real cards at the kitchen table. I've lost probably 95% of these games, but those cards comfort me. Or at least they did, until that one game when I flipped a card & saw the Ace of Crabs.

“That’s odd,” I thought. “I don’t even have a card like…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. The mere sight of the card was enough to put me in a trance. I sat there slackjawed for a couple of hours, unable to take my eyes off this unexplainable item.

It was there, right in front of me. The very card I chose. The Ace of Spades. He’s aced it. “Is this your card?” The magician grinned. Despite shivering in cold sweat I somehow managed to pull a poker face. “No,” I responded with a most assertive tone, “No, it isn’t.”

“Wait, it isn’t?” “Nope,” I confirmed. “Surely that’s his card, right?” “Nope,” the others replied. “But I know it’s his card! I saw it with my own eyes!” the magician protested. “No, no you didn’t.”

“This is my card!” He lay a seventeen of clubs in front of the the illusionist. “But… what…” mumbled the Great Zambini. “You know what it means. Don’t make this difficult, ok?”

The befuddled magician wiped his brow with his scarf as he performed the final act. In a show of defeat, he drops the scarf-which surprisingly turns into a dove and flies away. A card flutters down. The seventeen of clubs. The Great Zambini bows to the sound of applause.