desperate search of some way to save this doomed interview, or maybe out of boredom. Finally after a long pause he sighed. "Mr. Phillips, you called my producers because you claimed you could reveal the truth behind what happened in Washington D.C., not to discuss fairytales and fantasies—"
Simon's eyes narrowed as he grabbed the armrests on his chair and leaned forward. " Fairytales and fantasies! You think I'm lying ? Fine, I'll prove it to you! Here!"
Simon held up his left hand, and a ball of fire the size of a grapefruit erupted on his open palm.
"Holy —!" Dad gasped, making me jump.
On TV t he camera wobbled, making the view shake for a second as the reporter jumped out of his chair and yelled for a fire extinguisher. The sound of running footsteps broke out in the background of the video as the camera person fought to refocus the camera on Simon.
At our house, Dad fumbled with and then dropped the remote.
"Seen enough?" Simon barked at the reporter.
The reporter nodded quickly.
Simon stared at the fire on his palm and the flame went out with a poof of smoke. “And that’s why I told you guys to turn off the smoke alarm in here.”
“ I knew it,” Dad whispered, rewinding the show to the point where the flame burst into life on Simon’s hand then playing it again in slow motion. He did it twice more then paused the show. "Haven't I been saying it for years now? I told you these abilities were out there!" He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his gaze glued to the TV. "Oh man, the physics that's got to be behind that... What I wouldn't give to have him in my lab for a few tests!”
I bit my lip and tried to look shocked too, like I never watched a whole bunch of my friends doing some variation of this exact same thing nearly every weekend in the woods.
He should see them call down lightning. That would really freak him out.
My only question was...how the heck was Simon controlling his abilities so well?
Mom paused in the doorway to the dining room, full popcorn bowl in hand, and sighed. “This guy’s still on? You two do realize that fireball in his hand is completely fake, right? Chris Angel and that Damon Blade kid were pulling stunts like that on TV years ago!”
“ You mean David Blaine,” I automatically corrected her.
Mom waved off the correction. “Whatever. The point is it’s obviously a trick, and an old one at that. I can't believe they’ve stooped this low just for ratings! Whatever happened to hard hitting journalism? If Jeremy were here—”
“ If Jeremy were here, he’d have the good sense to know when to be quiet and watch history being made!” Dad muttered as Mom flopped onto the sofa beside him. “This show’s producers never would have put on a simple parlor trick. This is real.”
Mom rolled her eyes then stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth and glared at the TV.
Dad pressed P lay on the remote.
As everyone both on TV and at my own house settled down again for the rest of the interview, the reporter's voice said, “As you can see, Simon's display of abilities was more than a little shocking to everyone who was present at this interview. But I and the producers of this show can all attest that this was not CGI effects, nor was it any kind of illusion or trickery that we could detect.”
They replayed in slow motion the fire as it erupted in Simon's palm. “As far as we can tell, this was a real display of spontaneous combustion that Simon Phillips seemed to have total control over. Furthermore, his hand sustained absolutely no injuries from the fire.”
The interview continued with the reporter asking, “How did you just do that? That was magic, right?”
Simon nodded. “But like I said, it's not like the magic you see in the movies where you've got to call on some pagan god's name or sacrifice a chicken. It's more like working with energy and willpower, though I expect science will figure out a much better explanation for it all someday. Especially if
Simon's eyes narrowed as he grabbed the armrests on his chair and leaned forward. " Fairytales and fantasies! You think I'm lying ? Fine, I'll prove it to you! Here!"
Simon held up his left hand, and a ball of fire the size of a grapefruit erupted on his open palm.
"Holy —!" Dad gasped, making me jump.
On TV t he camera wobbled, making the view shake for a second as the reporter jumped out of his chair and yelled for a fire extinguisher. The sound of running footsteps broke out in the background of the video as the camera person fought to refocus the camera on Simon.
At our house, Dad fumbled with and then dropped the remote.
"Seen enough?" Simon barked at the reporter.
The reporter nodded quickly.
Simon stared at the fire on his palm and the flame went out with a poof of smoke. “And that’s why I told you guys to turn off the smoke alarm in here.”
“ I knew it,” Dad whispered, rewinding the show to the point where the flame burst into life on Simon’s hand then playing it again in slow motion. He did it twice more then paused the show. "Haven't I been saying it for years now? I told you these abilities were out there!" He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his gaze glued to the TV. "Oh man, the physics that's got to be behind that... What I wouldn't give to have him in my lab for a few tests!”
I bit my lip and tried to look shocked too, like I never watched a whole bunch of my friends doing some variation of this exact same thing nearly every weekend in the woods.
He should see them call down lightning. That would really freak him out.
My only question was...how the heck was Simon controlling his abilities so well?
Mom paused in the doorway to the dining room, full popcorn bowl in hand, and sighed. “This guy’s still on? You two do realize that fireball in his hand is completely fake, right? Chris Angel and that Damon Blade kid were pulling stunts like that on TV years ago!”
“ You mean David Blaine,” I automatically corrected her.
Mom waved off the correction. “Whatever. The point is it’s obviously a trick, and an old one at that. I can't believe they’ve stooped this low just for ratings! Whatever happened to hard hitting journalism? If Jeremy were here—”
“ If Jeremy were here, he’d have the good sense to know when to be quiet and watch history being made!” Dad muttered as Mom flopped onto the sofa beside him. “This show’s producers never would have put on a simple parlor trick. This is real.”
Mom rolled her eyes then stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth and glared at the TV.
Dad pressed P lay on the remote.
As everyone both on TV and at my own house settled down again for the rest of the interview, the reporter's voice said, “As you can see, Simon's display of abilities was more than a little shocking to everyone who was present at this interview. But I and the producers of this show can all attest that this was not CGI effects, nor was it any kind of illusion or trickery that we could detect.”
They replayed in slow motion the fire as it erupted in Simon's palm. “As far as we can tell, this was a real display of spontaneous combustion that Simon Phillips seemed to have total control over. Furthermore, his hand sustained absolutely no injuries from the fire.”
The interview continued with the reporter asking, “How did you just do that? That was magic, right?”
Simon nodded. “But like I said, it's not like the magic you see in the movies where you've got to call on some pagan god's name or sacrifice a chicken. It's more like working with energy and willpower, though I expect science will figure out a much better explanation for it all someday. Especially if
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