Flim Flam

By John Skrabacz

This exciting adventure has an historical twist! It will keep you on the edge of your seat as you sail with three amazing characters and their ship the “Bonnie Blue” to faraway islands, searching for a treasure once hidden by Ferdinand Magellan in the 16th century during the first circumnavigation of the Globe. They must solve the mystery of “The coins” in an unusual way. An excellent mixture of danger, romance, and humor weave their way through this tale!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664138612

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FLIM FLAM

JOHN SKRABACZ

Copyright © 2020 by John Skrabacz.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 11/24/2020

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

821545

CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter 1 (1979)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (1980)

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

DEDICATION

For my girl Hillary

"Twenty years from now, you will be more

Disappointed by the things you didn’t do

Then those you did. So, throw off the

Bowlines. Sail away from safe harbor.

Catch the wind in your sails. Explore.

Dream. Discover."

Mark Twain

CHAPTER 1 (1979)

It isn’t the best of bars, and it isn’t the worst of bars. The Pinetree saloon in the town of Mooresville, West Virginia is the average shot and a beer place where patrons want to pay less and drink more. It is packed on a hot August Friday night. If you want a night out on the town this is the place to be…. because it is the only place that is. The air is smoke filled, and the cacophony of sounds can be labeled barroom usual. You know what I mean, you’ve been there before. It’s 2100 hours (General Patton time), and couples are on a small dance floor moving to Johnny Cash as he claims to be Walking the Line over someone. The long mahogany bar is filled mostly with older men brooding over their drinks. I am here. I am not drinking. I am working. My name is Spade, John Spade. I scratch out a living by performing close-up magic. That’s right. I have called myself a magician for the last five years. When I started this journey, it was never my desire, it was never my goal to become a very rich and famous magician. So far that’s working out pretty good for me. But I enjoy what I do. I love my freedom and the ability to satisfy my wanderlust. Some might say that I have a hobo’s lifestyle. I have no business agent to book my shows. I have no wife to nag me. I have neither a mortgage nor any bills to pay. My earthly possessions are a Ford F150, a pull behind camper trailer, a decent wardrobe, and the books and tools of my trade.

My job tonight is to perform magical miracles (sleight of hand tricks). I’ll be meeting guests going table to table, behind the bar, and at a table I set up in the corner with my black curtain backdrop and an oval sign in which ostensibly announces that I am John Spade the Flim Flam man. I hope to earn five hundred dollars tonight. This money comes from a club paid performance fee, and audience tips. Procuring three to four of these gigs a week provides the financial support for the lifestyle I enjoy. I am sitting in the corner at my table arranging things for my sit -down show. I stuff my pockets with cards, coins, silks, and all other kinds of paraphernalia. Misdirection is my middle name.

I do lighthearted and fun effects. My job is to entertain this evening. I’m not trying to develop any deep dark hardcore mysteries. When my audience is having fun, then I’m having fun. When I’m really into it, You can buy me some peanuts and cracker jack and I don’t care if I never get back.

Putting all fun aside though, I do want you to know that I’m slowly working my way down the eastern seaboard to its southernmost point of Key West. I’m just not in any hurry to get there. I’m curious to discover if the mystery that has haunted me for so many years is true. More about that later because now IT’S SHOWTIME!

I wave at the bartender Henry and he temporarily stops the jukebox. I pick up my microphone and rattle off my usual announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the Pinetree saloon. I am John Spade the Flim Flam man. Tonight, I will flim flam you. You will discover that the world as you know it does not really exist. Come on over and say hello. I see that a group is coming over, and they fill the dozen chairs in front of my performance table. For the others it’s standing room only. Since I’m doing close- up tricks the rest of the house won’t be witnessing this part of my program. I’ll be tending to them later. Maybe I’m prejudice but I believe close- up is the most enjoyable magic spectators can witness.

I start with a boxed deck of Bicycle red backed cards. I ribbon spread them across my tabled black close- up pad without taking them out of the box because my empty hands indicate that the card box has already completely vanished. I do some fancy riffles, cuts, and shuffles, and then cascade the cards from my right hand to my left. The audience is smiling and staring at me. They are taking in my blue eyes, my brown fedora hat and vest which overlays a long sleeve green cotton shirt with its sleeves rolled up.

There is usually a drop-dead gorgeous lady sitting in one of the front row seats. She’s here tonight. This is (of course) who I pick as my first helper. I say nothing. I just smile and stare admiringly at her until she finally giggles. Then I say Miss, would you tell everyone your name please. My name is Candy she says. I then fan spread the cards in my left hand and hold them towards her. Would you please select one? She does. I turn my head and say, Please look at the card, remember it, and show it to the folks behind you. She does. Now would you please return it to the deck. I then shuffle the deck, square it up, and place it down on the table. I retrieve a pair of glasses out of my shirt pocket without showing their lenses. I explain These are very special glasses that will enable me to find Candy’s card. I turn my head down, chin to my chest, fix the glasses to my face, and remove one single card from the deck. I put it face down on the table and declare Candy this is your card. I dramatically turn the card face up. After a moment of silence and a long pause Candy says, That’s not my card. While still looking down, I place another card on the table. I say, Sometimes it takes two tries. As I turn the second card face up my audience starts to grumble. Candy says, That isn’t it either. As I remain staring down at the table, I ask Candy I’m sorry what was your card? Candy says, The eight of hearts. I pause, and then slowly turn my head upwards to allow my audience to see that the lenses on my glasses are painted white and written on them is a big red 8 and a red valentine heart. I enjoy their immediate laughter and applause. This effect always breaks the ice on my sit-down shows.

I proceed to perform a few other tricks. Coins appear from nowhere, they go invisibly one by one from one hand to the other, then they all totally vanish. A borrowed and lit cigarette is pushed into my left fist. When I slowly open my fist, it has disappeared. Sponge bunny rabbits go one by one from my hands to an older lady’s hand. Then they multiply to a dozen.

In the magician’s legerdemain it is understood that your last trick must be both powerful and memorable. I look up at a younger man standing behind the second row of chairs. I stare at him and say, sir don’t say anything out loud. I want you to just think of your first name to yourself; in your mind only. Please keep repeating your name over and over to yourself. I pick up a black magic marker, and a blank 3 x 5 card off my table, and the audience watches me write something on it. I put the marker down and hold the card to my chest. I then gaze at the man and say, Tell everyone here your name sir. Richard he says. I then immediately hold the card up and turn it around. The audience can see the name of Richard written on it. I receive an applause. Richard, I ask, what do you do for a living, I’m a plumber he says. I tell him Well then since you’re a plumber I’ll do this next trick very slowly. I laugh and say, Just kidding. I ask Richard to take a card. Take one please, look at it, and with the marker write your initials name on the face of the card. He does and returns it to the deck. I shuffle. I then stand up, look up at the ceiling, and throw the deck of cards (with great force) toward the ceiling. They hit hard and then all of the cards come cascading down like butterflies. All except one single solitary card. It is stuck to the ceiling with the face of the Jack of Diamonds and Richards initials written on it. It is looking down at all of us like the Cheshire Cat. As everyone stares up at the card there is total silence. Although any performer loves to hear the applause of a grateful audience, only the magician can appreciate the total silence of a stunned and awestruck audience. Let me say that the greatest reward I get is seeing their faces as they turn to me and give me The look. The look is worth more than the money you’ve earned for the show. Then I hear Okay asshole when are you going to do some real magic. These words were loud, boisterous, and broke the happy atmosphere of our little gathering. This continues with What a smart little asshole you are. I look toward the hoarse voice and saw it was coming from a red-eyed, bearded man, wearing a cowboy hat, and a torn and dirty t-shirt with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. You could tell the guy was drinking doubles and was seeing that way too. I think to myself, there’s one in every crowd. I look at him and say Hello friend. May I ask what name your friends call you by? He replies, They call me bastard, because I’m a real mean bastard. I say Well Mr. Bastard let me ask you a question…. if you had to live your life all over again…. do it overseas. The crowd laughs. He replies with You think you’re cute don’t you. You don’t even have a job. What you’re doin’ isn’t work. I work for a livin’. I’m a truck driver. You’re just a cocky bozo. I say Oh be careful what you say Mr. Mean Bastard. You don’t want to come to a battle of wits completely unarmed. The laughter is louder now because the crowd now listening has grown larger. Patrons not watching my show are interrupted at what they are doing and turn to stare at us because of how loud my disgruntled heckler is.

I now pick up my microphone, look at my antagonist and say you know sir that the U.S. government has just done a survey about truck drivers that wear cowboy hats. The survey is about what they do while taking a shower. The test results have come back and show that ten percent of the drivers masturbate while taking a shower and the other ninety percent sing. Do you know what they sing? He says No. I say "I didn’t think so. The whole bar now roars with laughter. My job is done. The only way to crush a heckler is to get the audience on your side. Really mad now, Mr. Mean Bastard leaves the saloon.

I shake the hands of those who watched my sit-down show, and with a grateful and somewhat greedy eye I watch as bills are being thrown into my tip jar. Drop dead gorgeous comes over and asks for my autograph. This occasionally happens to me; and being a nobody my ego is really stroked. I go the bar, slide onto a stool, and ask Henry for a Diet Coke. He says, Looks like it went over pretty- good, except for that first- rate jerk that bothered you. Yeah I say, but he really wasn’t a problem though. Henry adds He comes in here once in a while always looking for trouble." I then let him know that I’ll be joining him behind the bar to entertain those sitting there. I promise to stay out of his way.

I find that quick fast paced tricks work best in this venue. I change five $1.00 bills into five $20.00 bills. I get the most laughs out of my two pocket- knives. One is blue and the other silver. They change colors back and forth. I also bend a spoon with my mind. That trick always plays well. I look at my watch and discover that there’s an hour left to go table to table. I enjoy meeting the folks sitting at the tables, especially those who were at my sit - down performance. I usually do the same effects that I do behind the bar with a few variations such passing a salt- shaker through the table. At one table a girl asks me to dance. I have found that when this occurs you never ever say no. We dance a two- step while Hank Williams Jr claims he Ain’t Misbehavin’.

I know what all you guys are thinking. You’re thinking I’m always taking drop dead gorgeous home. I’ll come clean. The first year I started my magic career I did, or at least I tried too. And it didn’t have to be miss drop dead gorgeous, because All the girls get prettier at closin’ time". For a while it was one- night stand after one -night stand. As I look back at that time, I believe it was a part of my healing process. At least I thought it was then. The healing I needed was because of the death of the great love in my life. The truth is I don’t pick up any women during my shows anymore. I promise I will tell you soon, as to why I have ceased to do this, and about the great mystery that I’m chasing all the way to the Florida Keys.

The midnight bell has struck, and I collect and organize my belongings. By the time I’m finished only Henry and I are in the bar. I pick up my bags and the both of us walk out. The first thing I see is Mr. Mean Bastard himself standing there and wobbling on two feet. He steps forward and Henry steps back. Although I’ve only had one other physical altercation in the years that I have been doing this, it appears that this may be the second. We stand face to face and he says I’m gonna whip up on ya. With my right hand I reach up into the air and instantaneously produce a bright and shiny silver dollar. I hold it between our faces. He gives me The Look. He watches me transfer the coin to my left hand. I close my left hand into a fist. He looks stunned when I open my hand and the coin is gone. I then, with all the strength I can muster, hit him in the jaw with an extremely hard right cross. I then watch him teeter, fall to his knees, and end up face down on the pavement. Henry laughs and comes over to check him out. He’ll be alright John. Go on home. He deserved that. I’ll call the cops and he’ll spend a night in the drunk tank. Maybe he won’t be causing any more trouble around here. I say good night Henry. Thanks for everything".

I go to my truck, hop in and start for home.

CHAPTER 2

Home tonight is the Mountain Village Campground fifteen miles on the outskirts of Mooresville. As I drive I mentally critique tonight’s show. I have learned to listen and watch my audience’s reactions. They are the best judge of whether the effects I do are good or bad. I add or subtract things from my show based on their opinion. I give myself an A+ for tonight’s performance. I’m also thankful for Marine drill instructor Gunnery Sergeant T.J. Himes who taught me fighting skills on Parris Island so many years ago. Semper Fi baby.

I pull into the campground and park next to my camper. I reach in the glove box and pull out my Smith and Wesson 9mm pistol and shove it under my belt. With my carry permit I’m legal in most states, but I really don’t care. I’d rather be tried by twelve than carried by six. I grab my bags, lock the truck, and enter the camper. I go to the fridge, grab a beer, turn on the radio, and plop onto the couch. Everywhere I roam I always find the local oldies station. In Mooresville I’ve found KLUK your lucky mountain station 1300 on your good listening dial". I stretch my feet out, close my eyes, and listen to the Mamas and the Papas dreaming about California.

I can sleep as late as I want to, so now’s probably a good time to tell you a few things about myself. As Paul Harvey says, You know the news, but now here is the rest of the story. So, here’s the short of it. I was born on November the 2nd 1945 in Springfield Missouri. My mother Betty, a nurse at Springfield General Hospital, and my grandfather raised me. No one knows where my father ran off to, neither back then nor even today. I was the average midwestern kid. My mom was a peach, and my grandfather was…. well, my grandfather was a real character. He had spent his life in the merchant marines. He was an old salt who had sailed the seven seas. It seemed he had invented Murphy’s Law for he was always in one predicament after another. You could have probably guessed this by the initials of his name. It is Samuel Oscar Spade (S.O.S.). He was the grandad everyone would have wanted. He loved me and spent time with me. He took me to St. Louis to see Cardinal baseball games. He also took me to my nine- year old favorite place in the whole world, Lou’s Magic shop on Grand avenue. On every visit he would buy me a trick or book. His hobby was magic, and it became mine also.

Now my grandad was a talker. He talked, and talked, and talked. Generally speaking…. he was generally speaking. He loved to tell all of his seafaring stories. He told them often to me, and to anybody else who would listen. His favorite tale was about a gold coin. He proudly showed it to me and to everyone else.

After graduating from high school, I joined the U.S. Marine Corps. It didn’t take the Corps. long to send me to Vietnam. I saw action there, but unlike many of my peers I came back alive. I was lucky that I only received a minor bullet wound in my left leg. I served my four years, and after being discharged, I returned home.

After some rest and recuperation, I found a job as a laborer at the "Burns Construction Co. I hammered and sawed during the day and started to take some college courses in the evening. During, one summer day my life changed completely. I really should say that my life really began when I met her. She was the girl of my dreams. Her name was Faye. She was just shy of six- foot tall, long black hair, green eyes, a contagious smile, and curves in all of the right places. She was a goddess. We met by the produce section of our local Kroger store. She was a professional career woman, a certified accountant. I was totally smitten. We dated for about three months before I popped the question. She said yes. We loved, lived, and planned our lives together. I found when you start to plan things, that’s when life happens. On the evening of our fifth wedding anniversary life happened. Faye was killed in an automobile accident. I was devastated. So, you see at one time I did have a wife, a mortgage, and plenty of bills to pay.

After Faye’s death everything went to hell for me. There is an old adage that says, Everything in moderation but for me I took moderation moderately, and my new hobby became drinking. I was exceptionally good at it. I was usually inebriated both day and night. I started to gamble extensively. I found out quickly that I’m only good at gambling when I’m sober. I lost all my savings. I quit showing up for work and lost my job. I became delinquent on all my bills. I was three payments behind on my truck, and my bank was ready to foreclose on my house. It wasn’t until my phone was shut off that grandad came to my rescue. He helped me dry out. He called a realtor friend who quickly sold my house. With the equity I had in the house I paid off my truck and bought a small camper. I tried to get my job back, but the foreman wasn’t very forgiving.

I was sober, but I was still lost, and that is the last time I’ll talk about Faye again. It still hurts too much. That’s about the time I had my epiphany. I formulated a plan to go on the road doing my magic shows. It was the logical conclusion, because I would be doing the things that I loved the most. I would perform magic and travel. I decided to go for it.

CHAPTER 3

It was May of 1974 when was I ready to start my new career. I was finishing my final packing in my camper when I heard my grandad knocking. Come in I said. Looks like your finalizing things he said. I am, and I’m just about ready to pull out of Springfield. Where are you stopping first? I’ll probably stop somewhere in eastern Illinois. Before you leave, I’d like to talk to you about something. Fine, have a seat grandpa. How about a coke? Okay. I get the two drinks and join him at my small dinette table. Remember this?, and he drops a gold coin onto the table. Yes, I do I answer. Do you remember the story that goes along with this coin he asks? It’s been a long time. I probably only can recall some of it. He gave me