But before he can finish his sentence, a gunshot rings through the air and he falls to the floor, blood oozing out of his head. Screams are everywhere as the audience seeks cover.
His best friend Nathaniel is in the audience, but all he can do is sit there in shock and stare at the corpse of his now dead friend. Police swarm in through the doors to the venue and take down the shooter, putting a bullet through his head without a second thought, and rough hands seize Nathaniel.
Everything is a daze. The next thing he knows, he’s in a cell, being interrogated about the shooting. Questions are ringing through his head, questions he wants to answer but can’t find the time to collect his thoughts.
“Was he a friend to you?”
“We can’t contact his family. Do you know how we can reach them?”
“What is...”
The words fly by, and the next thing he knows after that is sitting at a table, making calls on his phone. Nathaniel is planning his friend’s funeral, putting every bit of detail into it to give his friend the best send off he can. Yet he’s looking from far off in his mind, almost on autopilot, still in shock somehow.
The day of the funeral comes round, and everything is planned perfectly. The church is presented well down to the finest detail, the guests are all dressed accordingly, and the entire service puts a bit of life into Nathaniel, but there’s still something off in his mind.
Next stop, the wake. A crowd of people who admired the magician all stand around, praising him for his marvellous tricks and chatting fondly about him.
Nathaniel starts to make his way to the drinks table, but is caught behind a queue of others wanting to do so. As he waits patiently, he hears the man in front laugh and say, “well, he was a terrible person and his tricks were garbage.”
Something snaps inside Nathaniel, drawing down a curtain of red in his vision. His mind becomes a blur, but when he comes to he can’t believe what he’s seeing. The group of people are all dead, heads bashed in, and he’s in handcuffs. He killed them all.
Being dragged away. The police. The blood. Blood all over his hands. But he needs confirmation.
“E-excuse me,” he asks a stunned woman near him. “What happened?”
The woman turns to him and says, “can you not remember what you just did?”
Nathaniel shakes his head in fright, to which the woman sighs and asks, “you’re the one who planned his funeral, right?”
He nods his head this time, a slight smile coming to his face.
The woman stares at him and says, “well the setup was pretty good, but you completely butchered the punchline.”
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