It all started with my birthday party. My two best friends, Fred and Sam, were over at my house. We were just sitting around the kitchen table doing birthday kinds of things. You know—eating junk, drinking soda, looking at the baseball my sister gave me. My mom started scooping up wrapping paper to throw away. That’s when Sam found the other present. “Hey, Joe, here’s one you missed.” Sam held up a small rectangular present. It was wrapped in black and gold paper. “Who’s it from?” My mom read the card and made a sour face. “Your uncle Joe.” “Yahoo!” Uncle Joe was the best uncle anybody could have. He was a magician for a traveling circus. And his presents were always the best. Uncle Joe’s stage name was “Joe the Magnificent.” I was named after him. “Before he went off the deep end,” my mother always added. “The card says ‘Happy Birthday, Magician-in-training. Be careful what you wish for. You might get it.’ ” “This is weird paper,” said Sam, wiggling the present back and forth in the light.
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