[Veritas]

Author's note: I'm stalled with my new story, Beyond Belief, and I don't want to lose my fan base, so while I'm waiting for my Muse to tap me on the shoulder again, I've decided to repost the very first story (with some updates) I ever wrote on the Criss Angel fansite. It's not as good as my later works, of course (didn't get much of a response when it first came out), but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

"Gather 'round, me hearties, and I shall spin you a tale of..."

Okay, okay, I'll drop the old salt routine and just tell you about my experiences on the Lakes with one very extraordinary magician who goes by the name of Criss Angel.

First, allow me to introduce myself. I'd like to protect my privacy on the Internet so you can just call me Vicky. I live by the coast of Lake Huron in Alpena, Michigan. If you open your right hand and look at the first knuckle joint of your index finger, that's where Alpena is on the Lower Peninsula, roughly. My father's family lived here for generations as farmers and other professions.

I own a pleasure crusier which I charter to anyone willing to pay--the Angel of the Lakes. My niece, Andi, was thrilled with that choice of name because she is a rabid Criss Angel fan. I just picked it out because the other names I wanted had already been taken. I won't bore you with the details of size, dimensions, or all that, because I have a tendancy to put people to sleep when I do that. Picture a floating RV, that's all. It's got a small galley (kitchen), a couple of bunks and a very tiny bathroom. It can go up to 20 knots, but I never pushed it that far. I just go at a leasurely pace for all my passengers. It's a nice boat, if you want to lease it for a few hours, or a three-day weekend.

The reason I'm telling all this is that after what happened that fateful weekend Andi has no doubt been denouncing me on her Facebook page, and I just want to set the record straight. You'll find out as this yarn spins along.

Anyway, this whole thing started when my brother, Rich, his wife, Vy, and my niece, Andi, were up for the weekend, visiting. Actually, Vy and Andi were visiting--Rich was laying some new carpet in the house. My cell phone went off. so I answered it. I have a special tone for those who want to charter the boat, and I really needed the money because insurance was due. A boat like mine, it's not cheap to maintain.

I was a bit taken aback when it was from Nevada, of all places. Some outfit called "MindFreak Productions" wanted to charter the Angel for a TV show; I was to transport the star of said show, along with a couple of cameramen, to the Mackinac Bridge. Why, they didn't say. I wondered why they didn't just drive up there, but, as I said, I needed the cash, and if this guy wanted to go by boat and is willing to pay, okay by me.

I had a hell of a time negotiating a price because the very nanosecond I mentioned "MindFreak Productions", Andi went ballistic! She absolutly had to speak to whomever was on the other end of the line. I kept waving her off, her mother kept pulling er back, but she would not be deterred.

I succeded in closing the deal for Labor Day weekend (just in time for the annual Bridge Walk), and turned to Andi, demanding to know just what her major malfunction was.

"Aunt Vicky!" she squealed, "It's MindFreak Productions!"

"So?" I replied
.
"Don't you get it?! MINDFREAK PRODUCTIONS!!"

"So what the hell is MindFreak Productions?" I demanded.

She stared at me incredulously. "MindFreak Productions is the people who produce Criss Angel! CRISS ANGEL IS GOING TO BE ON YOUR BOAT!!"

I was suddenly overcome by a feeling of impending doom. If I was transporting Andi's big crush, there was no telling what was going to happen. I drew a deep breath, looked at Andi straight in the eye, and resolved to be firm. "Look," I told her. "This is strictly business, and if you do anything--anything!--to blow this, so help me I'll..."

"I won't do anything, I promise!" Andi crossed her heart. "I'll be good! We'll all make sure Criss has a good time."

"Wait a minute!" I said, holding up my hand to stop her. "Time out! Who's 'we'?"

"Well, you know, you, me and..."

"Hold it right there, missy!" I halted her. "There is no 'we' on this trip. It's just me and the three passengers booking this trip. You have to start school, remember?"

"But, Aunt Vicky...", Andi whined.

"No buts!" I replied firmly. "We'll all do fine without some giddy teenage girl going all starry-eyed and getting underfoot."

Andi turned to her mother with an appealing look on her face. Vy upheld my decision with a shake of her head. Andi responded in the usual manner of all teenagers: she stormed out of the room. I heard a door slam. I sighed. Vy assured me I had done the right thing, even if Andi crossed me off her Christmas list for life.

I came up with an idea to what I hoped would smooth Andi's ruffled feathers. "She can come help prep the boat, at least." I offered.

Vy agreed, offering to run it past Andi once the storm blew over.

Rich finished laying the carpet and came in to where we were sitting, wanting to know what all the fuss was about. Vy said she'd explain on the way home. Rounding up Andi (who was still in a snit), they said their goodbyes and drove away.

I went into my newly-carpeted office, still smelling of burlap and glue, and logged onto my "ship's log", as I call it. It's just business records, inventories and such. I had to prepare for the Mackinac trip.