by Joe Janes

A Stern Letter of Complaint

to The “Magic” Castle

To Whom It May Concern:

This letter is to inform you of the most horrible evening spent at your establishment, The Magic Castle, last Saturday with my (former) love. Belinda and I were looking forward to a romantic night of magic, as promised by your brochures. What we got instead was “magic”, quotation marks strongly intended. We arrived on time and I had the valet park my silver Rolls Royce. We were semi-warmly greeted by the coat-check person who insisted on cutting and re-attaching the sleeve of my camel overcoat. We thought that was very impressive and, at that time, felt we came to the right place. 

The host greeted us. He seemed friendly enough, but insisted on being blindfolded before leading us to our table all the while telling us about the menu and what he sensed I had hidden in my pockets. It totally ruined the surprise I had in store for Belinda and I had to assure her the host was mistaken.  

After we were seated, Rolando appeared as our waiter. We found the puffs of smoke each time he “appeared” at our table to be startling – I almost choked on the Spicy Ahi Tuna Poke appetizer – and the odiferous sulphury smoke bombs were nauseous. The presentation of our entrees was, quite frankly, a horror show. My precious Belinda ordered the Braised Short Ribs and Rolando set them on her plate after pulling them out on a string one rib at a time from his gaping mouth. I got the veal which Rolando insisted on sawing in half and putting back together then transforming back into a live sickly-looking calf. It voraciously ate my side of potatoes and parsley before limply trotting off.   

I had invested a great deal into this evening and was determined to make it special for my Belinda. I made the excuse of needing the little gentlemen’s room and managed to find Rolando attempting to escape from a box made of Beef Wellington. I asked him to please take the engagement ring I brought and place it in a champagne flute and bring it to the table. Everything needed to be perfect and he assured me it would be. 

Back at our table, I told Belinda that she was the most beautiful woman I was able to attain and would very much like to spend my life with her. Rolando appeared in a “poof!” and set down two flutes of the Magic Castle’s best champagne. Belinda noticed the ring in hers and began beaming. All my concerns about my proposal melted away. Before she could take a sip, Rolando said he would give her ten dollars if she could retrieve the ring without touching the glass. How dare he sully our moment with a cheap bar trick! Sweet Belinda was never one to say no to a wager involving alcohol. Try as she might, she was unable to figure out a way to get the ring. Rolando asked me if I would like to try. I had had enough and grabbed the glass. Rolando slapped my hand hard which sent the contents flying onto the floor. “You owe me ten bucks!”, he exclaimed, since he did, technically, remove the ring without touching the glass. 

Just then, The Magnificent Todd, asked if Belinda would join him on stage for his final illusion. Always the game one, Belinda hopped onto the boards while I crawled on the floor looking for the diamond ring. I found it in time to look up and see Belinda hold a gold lamé curtain up in front of herself and then drop it instantly revealing a retired veteran in an ill-fitting army uniform. The audience applauded in their patriotism. 

Belinda never re-appeared. 

“Tank”, the nickname of the vet who served in Korea, joined me at the table and we shared a tiramisu. He did not get his nickname from serving our country. It’s from the air tank he carries with him to breathe.  I waited until closing and my Belinda never returned. The Magnificent Todd had slipped out the back. 

Sullen and full of remorse, I left the premises. The cut-and-restored sleeve on my camel coat is now three inches shorter than the right sleeve. My silver Rolls Royce had been turned into a grey pachyderm, which is certainly not street legal and is costing me a fortune to feed. Tank enjoys riding her, though, so I may keep the wrinkled beast. And Tank.

As you can see, my evening did not go as planned and I miss my delicate Belinda so much. Please, at the very least, refund the cost of my dinner and return the ten dollars Rolando “magically” removed from my wallet.

Sincerely, 

Montgomery MacDonald