My very first experience with show business was in the fourth grade. I was about to move away to Billerica, Massachusetts, and I wanted to do something special for all my admirers before I left, or maybe it was that I knew I'd never be seeing these people again. I dressed up in this foul denim patchwork suit I had, in lieu of a tuxedo, made a top hat out of yellow construction paper, and used a miniature pool cue as a cane. I put on a lame magic show utilizing some of the gambling refuse that MacLean had brought into our home. MacLean also helped out by providing the money I stole to buy the prizes.

I made four fake pies, three containing a toy airplane, one filled with shaving cream (MacLean's again). Then I requested four volunteers from the audience. I sat them down in chairs in front of the class, and handed them each a pie. I had them wait until they couldn't stand it, and then told them to go ahead and open the pies. Three kids were pleased to find toy airplanes, while the fourth looked rather dismayed to get a handful of shaving cream. Then I sent them back to their seats. There was no consolation prize for the loser. Thus ended my lesson on fate.

Thinking back on it, I suppose I should be concerned that I might've scarred the kid for life, but since I was a kid when I did it, that'd just be stupid. There is no payback later in life for what happens in grade school, so get in your hits while you can.