She gazed into the silk lined trunk then turned to me with a perplexed look. “I understand the rabbit, and the top hat,” she said, “but why the shoe horn?”
I hesitated. The rabbit had come from the back shelf of a second hand store, grumpy, old and stuck in his ways. I had repeatedly attempted to bribe him with treats in an effort to gain his cooperation. Instead of raising his spirits and gaining his favor, my actions had yielded only an irritable, uncooperative, and grossly obese rabbit. The shoe horn was the only way I’d found to get him in and out of the hat.
“Magicians wear tight shoes.” I stated.
“Oh.” She replied with a nod, and clicked the latches of the trunk closed.
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