What I Do Know

At the time it seemed a reasonable proposition. At least to my 9-year-old mind it did. My older brother had told me that, if I stood on the fringed rug in the upstairs hallway, he could yank it out from under me, leaving me standing, undisturbed. What could go wrong?

We had both seen this kind of thing done before, had watched novelty acts perform the tablecloth trick on television, usually to the accompaniment of Khachaturian’s “Sabre Dance.” A deft wrist-flick and the performer would pull the cloth from beneath a fully set dinner table, barely disturbing the plates, glasses and candlesticks. I believed it could be done. I must have believed, or else why would I have been stupid enough to get on the rug in the first place?

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