Rudolph The Magnificent

Rudolph rolls away from his sleeping wife, careful not to tug on the covers. Cilla was deeply unhappy if you either (a) tugged the covers from her or (b) woke her before she wanted to be awake or, God forbid, a combination of both (a) and (b).

Heading quietly down the hallway to the guest bathroom, he takes a hot shower while mentally preparing for his day. The Brickell party is at noon. If things go well, word will get around that Rudolph Mayers, recent retiree and semi-new magician, is available for hire.

Clean, Rudolph heads to the guest bedroom to dress. Cilla was having none of his what she calls ‘wacky’ costumes taking up space in the master closet. Truth be told, he’s just about made up his mind to move all his clothing in here anyway.

Considering his choices, Rudolph dresses in a summer weight powder blue suit, with matching socks and blue suede shoes. The outfit will go well with the light blue silk tall top hat he’s picked out. Don’t want to be mistaken for just another parent. No siree. Rudolph The Magnificent needs to stand out in any crowd.

After fixing coffee and breakfast, he eats before taking Cilla a tray. During the first thirty years of their marriage, he brought her breakfast on Sundays. Now that he’s retired, he makes the journey from the kitchen to the master bedroom almost every day of the week. He doesn’t mind, really. Anything to make Cilla happy, although sometimes that takes some work.

His wife is sitting up in bed. Her eyes grow wide as she takes in his outfit, from the top of his tall top hat to his shoes. Immediately she starts to hum the Elvis song. Cilla always does that when he wears these shoes.

“You, sir, are out of control,” she tells him after she finishes humming.

Rudolph smiles gamely, setting the tray on the bed in just the right place so it (a) doesn’t tug on the covers or (b) isn’t too far out of reach. It took years of training, but he’s finally got the diagram and angles tattooed on his brain.

“Who, me?” he quips, as he sweeps the hat off and takes a bow. “The kids are gonna love me. I have a new trick. Been practicing all week.”

Cilla rolls her eyes, then picks up the full cup. After inspecting the contents to judge the coffee to cream ratio, she takes a sip. It must be the correct ratio, because she takes another sip without comment.

“A new trick? Trying to get off of the “Do Not Hire” list?” Cilla rolls her eyes again. In her mind, Rudolph would be better off spending his retirement chipping away at the Honey Do list she’s been formulating for the last ten years. He’s got the time. And, like it or not, her husband sucks at magic.

“Yep,” he replies, ignoring the sarcastic tone of her voice. “Once I’m off the crap list, I’ll get more weekend gigs. Birthdays, Bar Mitzvahs, Bat Mitzvahs. Christmas!” He waves his arms expansively, excitement glittering in his eyes.

Making a little money while entertaining children is what he tells himself is the main reason for taking on this venture. A close second is getting out of the house for hours at a time before Cilla can rope him in to doing one of the projects on her seemingly endless list.

His eyes light up even more as an idea comes to him. “Hey, you know. I should practice my new trick. One more time before the party.”

Before Cilla can dissuade him, he’s down the hall. He really does need to practice, he reasons. And this trick will impress Cilla. It’s a sure-fire hit. She’ll love it.

Gathering up his cape and magic wand from the guest bedroom, he returns. Cilla has not moved.

After donning his cape, he clicks his heels a few times and goes into his spiel.

“And now, my darling wife, be prepared to witness the newest and most improved magic trick you’ve ever seen.” He takes a dramatic breath. “A rabbit. A white rabbit. I’ll make it appear right before your eyes!”

With a gleam in his eye, he taps the end of the magic wand against the side of his hat.

“Abra. Cadabra!”

Pausing for effect, Rudolph taps again, then sweeps the hat from his head. A spotted chicken sits atop his bald pate, looking alarmed. The bird squawks and claws at Rudolph’s scalp before landing awkwardly on the bed.

Cilla screams. Rudolph puts his hat back on. “Wait! I’ll try again! Abracadabra! A rabbit!”

The hat comes off. This time three chickens burst from the confines of his hat, squawking and shedding spotted feathers before landing on the bed.

The four freaked out chickens run in all different directions on the bed as Cilla continues to scream. The breakfast tray is upset as she kicks at the frantic birds, coffee immediately soaking into the white-on-white duvet cover.

“You promised me a rabbit! Get these stupid things out of here!” Red in the face, she manages to disentangle herself from the coffee-sodden covers and the ridiculous birds that spoil their bed.

Cilla runs to the door of the master bathroom. “So much for you, Mr Magic. This place better be de-chickened by the time I get out of the shower.” She slams the door behind her.

Bewildered at how his trick could have failed, Rudolph looks at his watch. He has a long drive ahead of him. Leaving the chickens and the shambles they’ve made, he closes the bedroom door before making a dash for the garage.

By the time he’s driven halfway down the block, Rudolph is smiling. He’ll get his name off of that list. All he has to do is not promise the kids a rabbit.
***
982 words

Write a story or poem that includes these phrases, bolded please:
tall top hat
out of control
spotted chicken
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