[FIC] Penn & Teller Go Network | ch10
May. 31st, 2019 07:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
milesyORIGINALLY POSTED: 2003
Title: Penn & Teller Go Network (10/19)
Fandom: Penn & Teller Get Killed
Wordcount: 3200
Rating: T
Characters: Penn, Teller
Summary: The boys finally get their big television break. It'll make them famous, even if it kills them.
AO3
Shortly after eleven, the entire cast and crew of Saturday Night Live had gathered in a large ninth floor conference room. The scheduled host, who was still a complete mystery to everyone on the crew, still hadn't stepped foot in the building, but Lorne couldn't delay the meeting any longer.
"Before we get too serious," Lorne said, bringing an instant silence to the room, "Madonna has confirmed her appearance for this week."
Many of the men in the room verbally approved the selected host for the week.
"Unfortunately," Lorne continued, "she can't even make it to New York until Thursday afternoon, so just do the best you can."
While the writers voiced their malcontent, Penn grabbed Teller by the lapel of his jacket and pulled him close so no one would overhear what he was about to say.
"Listen, pal," Penn said. "You better not even look at her wrong, or I'll make you wish you hadn't. Never mind the bodyguards she's bound to have with her."
Teller slowly nodded, fully aware of what would happen if he decided to do something mean to the Queen of Media Darlings.
"Also," Lorne said over the noise, once more bringing a silence to the room. "These two gentlemen, in case you don't know, are Penn and Teller —" A few people turned to see to whom Lorne was referring "—and I apologize to those who've already had the misfortune of meeting them. Yes, I've heard the stories, but please don't come bitching to me anymore."
Teller sank down into his seat and Penn shook his head.
"And," Lorne continued, "please don't touch their props. I normally wouldn't say that, but I just feel the need to emphasize that rule this week, as they're attempting a fairly risky stunt on Saturday. I don't want to have to actually use those medics the city makes me keep backstage."
The lack of response to what Penn thought was a joke made him nervous. The fact that they even had EMTs backstage to begin with suddenly make him nervous about attempting the trick.
♣ ♣ ♣
The meeting lasted about 90 minutes, during which the writers would go over the fine points of their scripts for the initial approval. Mostly a crew of men, the rundowns were loud and often visual. One writer even went as far as to jump up onto the table to demonstrate how he wanted a dance number to look. At the last second, Lorne vetoed the script, but gave no reason other than "it didn't fit."
After the meeting, Penn and Teller were lead down to an empty room on the 8th floor where all of their gear was being held. A few techies were waiting for them as well — techies Penn hoped would be around for the performance on Saturday. He looked around at each of the techies, memorizing their faces.
"First thing's first," he said. "The tank's gotta be filled." He looked down at Teller. "It was too cold last time, wasn't it?" he asked.
Teller nodded.
"Make sure the water's warm, but not hot," Penn added.
Teller wandered over to a table near the wall and took off his jacket. He laid it on the table and quickly checked his trousers pockets, making sure that nothing valuable would get wet.
"I want three successful runs of this thing today," Penn said. "This first one doesn't count since it's the first time we've ever even done this."
Teller climbed up onto the ladder that was next to the tank and waited for it to fill. As the water level slowly rose, he reached down into the tank to test the temperature. The action wasn't lost on Penn.
"That good?" Penn asked.
Teller shot him a thumbs-up and nodded.
"Good," Penn said.
Penn pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and started to shuffle through it.
"You guys haven't been told what we're doing yet, have you?" he asked the techies.
Several of them shook their heads.
"Good," Penn repeated. He pointed to the techie standing nearest to him. "You," he said. "Come here."
As Penn sized up the techie, Teller put his SCUBA mask on and climbed into the tank. Marc, the Penn & Teller Director of Covert Activities, closed the lid and passed the SCUBA regulator through the bars. After Teller got himself situated, Marc handed him a key with a large white tag with "TELLER" written across it in large black letters.
"We're not working with the lock today," Penn reminded Marc. "Not until we get this thing going the way it's supposed to."
"Right," Marc said, stepping away from the tank.
Penn turned back to the techie, still shuffling through the deck.
"What's your name, sir?" Penn asked.
"Tim," the techie replied.
"Well, Tim. What we're doing here is simple," Penn said. "It's a simple card trick, but with a little something riding on it." He pointed to Teller, who was calmly checking for grit under his fingernails. "What I want you to do right now," Penn continued, "is that the lock on the tank — it's not really there. Just pretend — and lock Teller in his under-water tank of doom."
Tim hesitantly did as told, feeling a bit stupid pretending to lock a lock that didn't exist.
"Now, Teller can't get out of the tank. He's sworn on his honor as a gentleman not to relinquish the key to the lock until these supremely skilled hands —" Penn held his hands up in front of his face "— find your selected card. Now, as you can see, Teller is breathing rather comfortably with the aid of the regulator, there. Just go ahead and rip that SCUBA regulator from his mouth, right there."
Tim looked at Marc, then to his co-workers. No one objected, so he pulled on the hose running through the bars of the tank, nervously taking away Teller's air supply.
"Great," Penn said. He fanned out the deck of cards and held them out in front of Tim. "Just go ahead and take any one of those cards there."
Tim snatched a card from the middle of the fan, a little more quick to act now that Teller was holding his breath under the water. Penn pulled a large magic marker from his pocket and handed it to Tim. He turned his back and Teller put his hand over his eyes, as though he could somehow aid Penn from inside the tank.
"Go ahead, Tim, and just write your name across the face — the side that's different from the rest — of the card."
Tim scribbled his name across the face and recapped the marker. He held the card behind his cupped hands, to keep Penn from seeing its value.
"Perfect," Penn said as he turned around. He took the marker back and cut the deck. "Just go ahead and put your card right there."
Tim put his card on top of the packet Penn held in his left hand. Penn squared the pack, false cut the cards, and palmed off the top card. He handed the cards to Tim.
"Tim, just go ahead and shuffle that deck thoroughly, unless you have a shred of human decency."
Tim shuffled the deck a few times and handed it back to Penn.
"Now, Tim," Penn said. "I know your first name, but what is your last name?"
"McFarland," Tim answered.
Penn nodded. "Hold out your hand for me, McFarland," he said.
Tim held his hand out in front of Penn. Penn dealt out the cards on to Tim's hand, spelling out Tim McFarland as he dealt. He turned over the last card for Tim to see.
"And is that your card, Tim? The Ten of Diamonds?"
Tim shook his head. "No." He glanced over at Teller, visibly starting to strain from being under water.
"Of course not," Penn said, looking at the card. The face was completely blank of any writing.
He dealt the cards out into Tim's hands once more, spelling out Tim McFarland once more.
"And is that your card, McFarland, the Jack of Spades?" Penn asked, flipping over the last card.
Tim chuckled nervously.
"No," he said.
"Okay," Penn said, throwing the card over his shoulder. "But I don't seem too worried about it, do I?"
Tim shook his head. "No, you do not."
Penn handed what was left of the deck of cards back to Tim and pulled a small sealed envelope from his pocket. He handed it to Tim.
"What is written on that envelope, Tim?"
Tim looked down at the envelope. "Nothing," he said.
Penn started to chuckle. "Other side, Tim," he instructed.
Tim turned the envelope over. "It says nine-fifteen AM."
Penn walked over to the tank and held on to the key in Teller's up stretched left hand.
"Tim, what I want you to do is open that envelope and say 'Yes, Penn. That's my card'," Penn instructed.
Tim tore into the envelope, pulling out a Queen of Diamonds with "Lawrence" written across the face in large black letters.
"Yes, Penn. That's my card. No it isn't." Tim said when he looked at the card.
Penn turned around on his heel to look at Tim. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.
"I said what you told me to say, but it's not my card," Tim pleaded. He showed the card with "Lawrence" on the face. "That's not my name."
Penn quickly stepped away from the tank and snatched the envelope from Tim's hand. "What?" he asked. He tore the envelope to shreds, as though expecting to find another card. "Damnit," he said, rushing over to the tank. He grabbed for the key in Teller's hand, but Teller ducked down to the bottom of the tank. "Damnit, Teller!" Penn shouted. "I palmed the wrong card!"
Teller shook his head and tried to shout something at Penn, but all that was heard was a garbled mess. Penn jumped up, reaching his hand into the water. Teller shook his head again.
"He's right," Penn said, shaking his hand dry. "We need to do this proper."
"What?" Tim demanded.
Penn held Tim's hand out and counted the cards out once more. "Is this your — no," he said as he flipped the card over. He soon gave up on trying to count the cards out and just started searching through what was left of the deck. "It's not in here, McFarland," Penn shouted. "It's on the floor. Look on the floor!"
Penn and Tim both dropped to their hands and knees and began crawling around. Behind them in the tank, Teller began to tap the hard plastic key chain on the tank. When Penn didn't respond, Teller threw it at him, but missed, sending the key out into the hall.
"Damnit, Tim. Where's your card?" Penn shouted. He looked back at Teller, no longer splashing about in the water. "Let him out! Let him out!"
Tim started looking around for the key. He found it out in the hall and rushed over to the tank. Before Tim was able to let him out, Penn held him back by the shoulder.
"Take it easy," Penn said quietly. He checked it watch. They were at just after five minutes.
Penn took the key from Tim's hand and pretended to fumble with the non-existent lock. As he dicked around with the lock, Teller pushed the lid open and spat a mouthful of water in Penn's face. Penn reeled back as Teller tore his mask from his face and clung to the tank wall. He took Tim's signed card from inside his mask and threw it on the ground.
"Five forty-five," Penn said, checking his watch. "You sure you can do the whole thing?"
Teller nodded confidently, checking his mask. As Penn stepped over to check out Teller's mask, Tim picked up his signed card from the floor.
"How did he get the card?" Tim wondered aloud.
"He just did," Penn said blankly. "You didn't get to see the punch line."
Penn turned back to Teller, whispering secret instructions. Teller nodded, put the mask back over his face, and submerged himself once more to test the new positioning. As he putzed around with the mask under the water, Penn turned back to Tim.
"Hey, go bring someone else in here for me," Penn said. "Don't tell them what we're doing, though. I don't think it would work right if they knew what to expect."
Tim ran out of the room, eager to be done with their sick little experiment. He returned shortly thereafter with Victoria close behind him. As soon as Victoria laid eyes on the horror movie scene unfolding before her, she stepped back and shook her head.
"Oh, no," she said. This is too much. Sorry."
Penn shook his head and lead Victoria into the room by the wrist.
"Relax," he said. "If anything goes wrong, only Teller will get hurt."
Before Victoria could argue, Marc shut the tank lid and passed the SCUBA regulator down to Teller. They ran through the trick using Victoria as the victim, being careful as to not freak her out too badly. This time, they were able to work through the entire script before Teller pulled himself out of the tank. When Penn turned Teller around to show Victoria's signed card in the SCUBA mask, Victoria stumbled backwards, knocking into the prop table they had set up for the rehearsals.
"That work?" Penn asked as Teller clung to the side of the tank.
Teller took off his mask and nodded. He took the card out of his mask and handed it to Penn.
"This is gonna rock," Penn observed, tapping the card against his fingertips. We'll do it two more times and call it a day.
Teller gave him a thumbs-up and nodded.
♣ ♣ ♣
They ran the trick four more times — for Gilbert, Billy, Julia, and a group of writers. The mechanism in Teller's mask failed when they ran through the script with the writers, and Penn simply took too long with Julia, stopping several times to flirt. By the time Teller was finally able to climb out of the tank, the water was ice cold.
"Man, go get changed," Penn said when he noticed Teller's teeth chattering. "I'll clean up."
Teller grabbed the small gym bag under the prop table and walked across the hall to change into dry clothes.
"They're gonna need to replace this rug," Penn said, digging the heels of his cowboy boots deep into the soggy carpet.
"It's one hell of a trick, though," Billy said, helping Penn clean up.
"I'm not satisfied," Penn said. "Not at all. Fifty percent failure is too damn much for a bit like this."
Billy handed him a stack of wet cards. "Yeah, but if you were a baseball player, you'd be batting .500 and you'd be a superstar," he said.
Penn chuckled. "No one's ever drowned playing baseball."
Teller returned to the room, exchanging his gym bag for his jacket. He finished drying his hair with a towel he brought over from the hotel and shoved it into the gym bag.
"I'm still not convinced," Penn said. "What about you?"
Teller shook his head as he straightened his tie.
"Didn't think so," Penn said. "Bring your gear back to the room and we'll see what's wrong with it."
Teller put his mask into his gym bag and left it on the table to help Billy and Penn pick up the cards that had gotten thrown all over the room.
"You guys gonna stick around for the party after the show on Saturday?" Billy asked, eyeing the tank.
"Not sure," Penn said, tossing a bunch of cards into the trash. He looked over to Teller. "What do you think?"
Teller shrugged. He seemed to like the idea.
"Oh, they're a total blast," Billy said, tossing a stack of cards into the trash bin as well. "And Mr. Michaels seems to like you guys."
Teller smiled nervously and looked at the floor.
"Think about it," Billy said before leaving the room.
"Should we tell them how it's done?" Penn asked as soon as Billy was out of earshot.
Teller shook his head as he tossed what was left of the cards into the trash bin.
"You're right," Penn said. "We may want to do this again if it works right."
Penn checked to make sure that the SCUBA tank valve was closed and left the room. Teller picked up his gym bag, slinging the strap over his shoulder, and followed. They walked to the elevator, noticing very quickly that the floor was almost entirely void of human life. Penn checked his watch, stopping briefly when he noticed the time.
"No wonder I've got a headache," Penn said, showing Teller his watch. "It's damn near six-thirty."
Teller leaned in to look at the watch, not able to believe that it had taken them that long to run the trick six times.
"It was probably all that time we spent fucking around with the gear," Penn pointed out, knowing what was on Teller's mind. "You're sure you're cool with this?"
Teller nodded confidently. He had a good idea about what was causing the mechanism to fail.
"Well, I'm just not sure that I could handle a solo career right now," Penn joked.
They stepped onto the elevator and Penn hit the button for the sixth floor. Teller looked up at him, unclear of Penn's intent.
"Just take a minute," Penn assured.
They rode down two floors to six and stepped off onto the smaller — though cleaner — hallway. Penn lead the way to 6A, slightly surprised that they were able to wander right into the backstage area. He got close enough to the set to be able to tell that Act V was filming, but he couldn't tell who David was interviewing.
"You guys were on the show a few weeks ago, weren't you?" a young intern asked.
"Yeah," Penn said. "We dropped a truckload of cockroaches on David's desk."
The intern laughed at the imagery. "Goddamn midterms," he hissed. He spotted a writer coming in their direction and quickly darted out of sight.
Penn and Teller waited around backstage until the show was over. As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, David left the set, almost knocking into Teller as he entered the backstage area.
"Oh! Hey," he said as soon as he realized exactly whom it was he'd just almost flattened. "You guys were great last month. I never saw it coming." He patted Teller on the shoulder. "You boys come back any time." He noticed someone more important somewhere behind Teller. "Excuse me," he said before leaving.
Penn and Teller both looked at one another, their jaws slacken.
"What the hell was that?" Penn asked.
He turned to leave, ready to shower and go to bed. As they stepped back into the hall, they saw David talking to a rather attractive young diva.
"I can't work under these conditions," she demanded. "You get it fixed or I'm out."
Teller tapped Penn on the arm and pointed to the diva.
"Yeah, I think so too," Penn said. "I don't know if I really want to tango with her."
They watched from the sidelines for a few minutes as the diva tore into Letterman about every asinine little thing she could find wrong with the set or the backstage area. After watching the verbal assault for perhaps a little too long, Penn and Teller left the set.
Title: Penn & Teller Go Network (10/19)
Fandom: Penn & Teller Get Killed
Wordcount: 3200
Rating: T
Characters: Penn, Teller
Summary: The boys finally get their big television break. It'll make them famous, even if it kills them.
AO3
Shortly after eleven, the entire cast and crew of Saturday Night Live had gathered in a large ninth floor conference room. The scheduled host, who was still a complete mystery to everyone on the crew, still hadn't stepped foot in the building, but Lorne couldn't delay the meeting any longer.
"Before we get too serious," Lorne said, bringing an instant silence to the room, "Madonna has confirmed her appearance for this week."
Many of the men in the room verbally approved the selected host for the week.
"Unfortunately," Lorne continued, "she can't even make it to New York until Thursday afternoon, so just do the best you can."
While the writers voiced their malcontent, Penn grabbed Teller by the lapel of his jacket and pulled him close so no one would overhear what he was about to say.
"Listen, pal," Penn said. "You better not even look at her wrong, or I'll make you wish you hadn't. Never mind the bodyguards she's bound to have with her."
Teller slowly nodded, fully aware of what would happen if he decided to do something mean to the Queen of Media Darlings.
"Also," Lorne said over the noise, once more bringing a silence to the room. "These two gentlemen, in case you don't know, are Penn and Teller —" A few people turned to see to whom Lorne was referring "—and I apologize to those who've already had the misfortune of meeting them. Yes, I've heard the stories, but please don't come bitching to me anymore."
Teller sank down into his seat and Penn shook his head.
"And," Lorne continued, "please don't touch their props. I normally wouldn't say that, but I just feel the need to emphasize that rule this week, as they're attempting a fairly risky stunt on Saturday. I don't want to have to actually use those medics the city makes me keep backstage."
The lack of response to what Penn thought was a joke made him nervous. The fact that they even had EMTs backstage to begin with suddenly make him nervous about attempting the trick.
♣ ♣ ♣
The meeting lasted about 90 minutes, during which the writers would go over the fine points of their scripts for the initial approval. Mostly a crew of men, the rundowns were loud and often visual. One writer even went as far as to jump up onto the table to demonstrate how he wanted a dance number to look. At the last second, Lorne vetoed the script, but gave no reason other than "it didn't fit."
After the meeting, Penn and Teller were lead down to an empty room on the 8th floor where all of their gear was being held. A few techies were waiting for them as well — techies Penn hoped would be around for the performance on Saturday. He looked around at each of the techies, memorizing their faces.
"First thing's first," he said. "The tank's gotta be filled." He looked down at Teller. "It was too cold last time, wasn't it?" he asked.
Teller nodded.
"Make sure the water's warm, but not hot," Penn added.
Teller wandered over to a table near the wall and took off his jacket. He laid it on the table and quickly checked his trousers pockets, making sure that nothing valuable would get wet.
"I want three successful runs of this thing today," Penn said. "This first one doesn't count since it's the first time we've ever even done this."
Teller climbed up onto the ladder that was next to the tank and waited for it to fill. As the water level slowly rose, he reached down into the tank to test the temperature. The action wasn't lost on Penn.
"That good?" Penn asked.
Teller shot him a thumbs-up and nodded.
"Good," Penn said.
Penn pulled a deck of cards from his pocket and started to shuffle through it.
"You guys haven't been told what we're doing yet, have you?" he asked the techies.
Several of them shook their heads.
"Good," Penn repeated. He pointed to the techie standing nearest to him. "You," he said. "Come here."
As Penn sized up the techie, Teller put his SCUBA mask on and climbed into the tank. Marc, the Penn & Teller Director of Covert Activities, closed the lid and passed the SCUBA regulator through the bars. After Teller got himself situated, Marc handed him a key with a large white tag with "TELLER" written across it in large black letters.
"We're not working with the lock today," Penn reminded Marc. "Not until we get this thing going the way it's supposed to."
"Right," Marc said, stepping away from the tank.
Penn turned back to the techie, still shuffling through the deck.
"What's your name, sir?" Penn asked.
"Tim," the techie replied.
"Well, Tim. What we're doing here is simple," Penn said. "It's a simple card trick, but with a little something riding on it." He pointed to Teller, who was calmly checking for grit under his fingernails. "What I want you to do right now," Penn continued, "is that the lock on the tank — it's not really there. Just pretend — and lock Teller in his under-water tank of doom."
Tim hesitantly did as told, feeling a bit stupid pretending to lock a lock that didn't exist.
"Now, Teller can't get out of the tank. He's sworn on his honor as a gentleman not to relinquish the key to the lock until these supremely skilled hands —" Penn held his hands up in front of his face "— find your selected card. Now, as you can see, Teller is breathing rather comfortably with the aid of the regulator, there. Just go ahead and rip that SCUBA regulator from his mouth, right there."
Tim looked at Marc, then to his co-workers. No one objected, so he pulled on the hose running through the bars of the tank, nervously taking away Teller's air supply.
"Great," Penn said. He fanned out the deck of cards and held them out in front of Tim. "Just go ahead and take any one of those cards there."
Tim snatched a card from the middle of the fan, a little more quick to act now that Teller was holding his breath under the water. Penn pulled a large magic marker from his pocket and handed it to Tim. He turned his back and Teller put his hand over his eyes, as though he could somehow aid Penn from inside the tank.
"Go ahead, Tim, and just write your name across the face — the side that's different from the rest — of the card."
Tim scribbled his name across the face and recapped the marker. He held the card behind his cupped hands, to keep Penn from seeing its value.
"Perfect," Penn said as he turned around. He took the marker back and cut the deck. "Just go ahead and put your card right there."
Tim put his card on top of the packet Penn held in his left hand. Penn squared the pack, false cut the cards, and palmed off the top card. He handed the cards to Tim.
"Tim, just go ahead and shuffle that deck thoroughly, unless you have a shred of human decency."
Tim shuffled the deck a few times and handed it back to Penn.
"Now, Tim," Penn said. "I know your first name, but what is your last name?"
"McFarland," Tim answered.
Penn nodded. "Hold out your hand for me, McFarland," he said.
Tim held his hand out in front of Penn. Penn dealt out the cards on to Tim's hand, spelling out Tim McFarland as he dealt. He turned over the last card for Tim to see.
"And is that your card, Tim? The Ten of Diamonds?"
Tim shook his head. "No." He glanced over at Teller, visibly starting to strain from being under water.
"Of course not," Penn said, looking at the card. The face was completely blank of any writing.
He dealt the cards out into Tim's hands once more, spelling out Tim McFarland once more.
"And is that your card, McFarland, the Jack of Spades?" Penn asked, flipping over the last card.
Tim chuckled nervously.
"No," he said.
"Okay," Penn said, throwing the card over his shoulder. "But I don't seem too worried about it, do I?"
Tim shook his head. "No, you do not."
Penn handed what was left of the deck of cards back to Tim and pulled a small sealed envelope from his pocket. He handed it to Tim.
"What is written on that envelope, Tim?"
Tim looked down at the envelope. "Nothing," he said.
Penn started to chuckle. "Other side, Tim," he instructed.
Tim turned the envelope over. "It says nine-fifteen AM."
Penn walked over to the tank and held on to the key in Teller's up stretched left hand.
"Tim, what I want you to do is open that envelope and say 'Yes, Penn. That's my card'," Penn instructed.
Tim tore into the envelope, pulling out a Queen of Diamonds with "Lawrence" written across the face in large black letters.
"Yes, Penn. That's my card. No it isn't." Tim said when he looked at the card.
Penn turned around on his heel to look at Tim. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.
"I said what you told me to say, but it's not my card," Tim pleaded. He showed the card with "Lawrence" on the face. "That's not my name."
Penn quickly stepped away from the tank and snatched the envelope from Tim's hand. "What?" he asked. He tore the envelope to shreds, as though expecting to find another card. "Damnit," he said, rushing over to the tank. He grabbed for the key in Teller's hand, but Teller ducked down to the bottom of the tank. "Damnit, Teller!" Penn shouted. "I palmed the wrong card!"
Teller shook his head and tried to shout something at Penn, but all that was heard was a garbled mess. Penn jumped up, reaching his hand into the water. Teller shook his head again.
"He's right," Penn said, shaking his hand dry. "We need to do this proper."
"What?" Tim demanded.
Penn held Tim's hand out and counted the cards out once more. "Is this your — no," he said as he flipped the card over. He soon gave up on trying to count the cards out and just started searching through what was left of the deck. "It's not in here, McFarland," Penn shouted. "It's on the floor. Look on the floor!"
Penn and Tim both dropped to their hands and knees and began crawling around. Behind them in the tank, Teller began to tap the hard plastic key chain on the tank. When Penn didn't respond, Teller threw it at him, but missed, sending the key out into the hall.
"Damnit, Tim. Where's your card?" Penn shouted. He looked back at Teller, no longer splashing about in the water. "Let him out! Let him out!"
Tim started looking around for the key. He found it out in the hall and rushed over to the tank. Before Tim was able to let him out, Penn held him back by the shoulder.
"Take it easy," Penn said quietly. He checked it watch. They were at just after five minutes.
Penn took the key from Tim's hand and pretended to fumble with the non-existent lock. As he dicked around with the lock, Teller pushed the lid open and spat a mouthful of water in Penn's face. Penn reeled back as Teller tore his mask from his face and clung to the tank wall. He took Tim's signed card from inside his mask and threw it on the ground.
"Five forty-five," Penn said, checking his watch. "You sure you can do the whole thing?"
Teller nodded confidently, checking his mask. As Penn stepped over to check out Teller's mask, Tim picked up his signed card from the floor.
"How did he get the card?" Tim wondered aloud.
"He just did," Penn said blankly. "You didn't get to see the punch line."
Penn turned back to Teller, whispering secret instructions. Teller nodded, put the mask back over his face, and submerged himself once more to test the new positioning. As he putzed around with the mask under the water, Penn turned back to Tim.
"Hey, go bring someone else in here for me," Penn said. "Don't tell them what we're doing, though. I don't think it would work right if they knew what to expect."
Tim ran out of the room, eager to be done with their sick little experiment. He returned shortly thereafter with Victoria close behind him. As soon as Victoria laid eyes on the horror movie scene unfolding before her, she stepped back and shook her head.
"Oh, no," she said. This is too much. Sorry."
Penn shook his head and lead Victoria into the room by the wrist.
"Relax," he said. "If anything goes wrong, only Teller will get hurt."
Before Victoria could argue, Marc shut the tank lid and passed the SCUBA regulator down to Teller. They ran through the trick using Victoria as the victim, being careful as to not freak her out too badly. This time, they were able to work through the entire script before Teller pulled himself out of the tank. When Penn turned Teller around to show Victoria's signed card in the SCUBA mask, Victoria stumbled backwards, knocking into the prop table they had set up for the rehearsals.
"That work?" Penn asked as Teller clung to the side of the tank.
Teller took off his mask and nodded. He took the card out of his mask and handed it to Penn.
"This is gonna rock," Penn observed, tapping the card against his fingertips. We'll do it two more times and call it a day.
Teller gave him a thumbs-up and nodded.
♣ ♣ ♣
They ran the trick four more times — for Gilbert, Billy, Julia, and a group of writers. The mechanism in Teller's mask failed when they ran through the script with the writers, and Penn simply took too long with Julia, stopping several times to flirt. By the time Teller was finally able to climb out of the tank, the water was ice cold.
"Man, go get changed," Penn said when he noticed Teller's teeth chattering. "I'll clean up."
Teller grabbed the small gym bag under the prop table and walked across the hall to change into dry clothes.
"They're gonna need to replace this rug," Penn said, digging the heels of his cowboy boots deep into the soggy carpet.
"It's one hell of a trick, though," Billy said, helping Penn clean up.
"I'm not satisfied," Penn said. "Not at all. Fifty percent failure is too damn much for a bit like this."
Billy handed him a stack of wet cards. "Yeah, but if you were a baseball player, you'd be batting .500 and you'd be a superstar," he said.
Penn chuckled. "No one's ever drowned playing baseball."
Teller returned to the room, exchanging his gym bag for his jacket. He finished drying his hair with a towel he brought over from the hotel and shoved it into the gym bag.
"I'm still not convinced," Penn said. "What about you?"
Teller shook his head as he straightened his tie.
"Didn't think so," Penn said. "Bring your gear back to the room and we'll see what's wrong with it."
Teller put his mask into his gym bag and left it on the table to help Billy and Penn pick up the cards that had gotten thrown all over the room.
"You guys gonna stick around for the party after the show on Saturday?" Billy asked, eyeing the tank.
"Not sure," Penn said, tossing a bunch of cards into the trash. He looked over to Teller. "What do you think?"
Teller shrugged. He seemed to like the idea.
"Oh, they're a total blast," Billy said, tossing a stack of cards into the trash bin as well. "And Mr. Michaels seems to like you guys."
Teller smiled nervously and looked at the floor.
"Think about it," Billy said before leaving the room.
"Should we tell them how it's done?" Penn asked as soon as Billy was out of earshot.
Teller shook his head as he tossed what was left of the cards into the trash bin.
"You're right," Penn said. "We may want to do this again if it works right."
Penn checked to make sure that the SCUBA tank valve was closed and left the room. Teller picked up his gym bag, slinging the strap over his shoulder, and followed. They walked to the elevator, noticing very quickly that the floor was almost entirely void of human life. Penn checked his watch, stopping briefly when he noticed the time.
"No wonder I've got a headache," Penn said, showing Teller his watch. "It's damn near six-thirty."
Teller leaned in to look at the watch, not able to believe that it had taken them that long to run the trick six times.
"It was probably all that time we spent fucking around with the gear," Penn pointed out, knowing what was on Teller's mind. "You're sure you're cool with this?"
Teller nodded confidently. He had a good idea about what was causing the mechanism to fail.
"Well, I'm just not sure that I could handle a solo career right now," Penn joked.
They stepped onto the elevator and Penn hit the button for the sixth floor. Teller looked up at him, unclear of Penn's intent.
"Just take a minute," Penn assured.
They rode down two floors to six and stepped off onto the smaller — though cleaner — hallway. Penn lead the way to 6A, slightly surprised that they were able to wander right into the backstage area. He got close enough to the set to be able to tell that Act V was filming, but he couldn't tell who David was interviewing.
"You guys were on the show a few weeks ago, weren't you?" a young intern asked.
"Yeah," Penn said. "We dropped a truckload of cockroaches on David's desk."
The intern laughed at the imagery. "Goddamn midterms," he hissed. He spotted a writer coming in their direction and quickly darted out of sight.
Penn and Teller waited around backstage until the show was over. As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, David left the set, almost knocking into Teller as he entered the backstage area.
"Oh! Hey," he said as soon as he realized exactly whom it was he'd just almost flattened. "You guys were great last month. I never saw it coming." He patted Teller on the shoulder. "You boys come back any time." He noticed someone more important somewhere behind Teller. "Excuse me," he said before leaving.
Penn and Teller both looked at one another, their jaws slacken.
"What the hell was that?" Penn asked.
He turned to leave, ready to shower and go to bed. As they stepped back into the hall, they saw David talking to a rather attractive young diva.
"I can't work under these conditions," she demanded. "You get it fixed or I'm out."
Teller tapped Penn on the arm and pointed to the diva.
"Yeah, I think so too," Penn said. "I don't know if I really want to tango with her."
They watched from the sidelines for a few minutes as the diva tore into Letterman about every asinine little thing she could find wrong with the set or the backstage area. After watching the verbal assault for perhaps a little too long, Penn and Teller left the set.
