The magician has a crush on his beautiful assistant, but so far, he doesn’t ask her out on a date. Later, a great opportunity comes along, when the old “sawing a woman in half” trick goes somehow wrong, and he has to conciliate her. So he asks her out to dinner. The assistant says yes straight away, blushing. Now the only question is, which part of the woman the magician should take out tonight. He would seem too pushy if he chooses the lower half, so he eventually drives the upper half to a restaurant.
There’s a strange, awkward mood around the table. Every bite of food the assistant swallows falls out from her bisected body. The magician tries to look away, kicking the undigested bits under the table, but soon, he can’t bare it any longer and takes the woman home. There, the assistant winks and tells him he can take her lower part into the bedroom, if he wants to. She doesn’t have to say it twice. After a wondrous night, the magician asks the upper part for another date.
But as the weeks go by, he begins to get more and more bored by the upper half. After a few more dinners, he gets fed up with the food stains on his shoe. At the same time, he and the lower part of the woman gets along better and better in bed. The man arranges secret meetings with the lower half, but the other half presses for dates, too. Time to time, he carries the upper half to the restaurant. He orders some food and a bottle of wine, and then he excuses himself to the restroom. He sneaks home to the lower part before the torso would start putting food in her mouth. After an occasion like this, when he’s romping with the lower half in bed, someone knocks at his door.
He dresses and opens the door. To his surprise, it is the upper half of the assistant—she’s drunk, and the waiter carried her here. She clings on the man like a spider monkey.
“We’re here for my pussy. I promised this guy he can have it.” She burps and nods at the waiter.
“You can’t do this! We . . .” The magician’s look glances off the girl. “All right. She’s . . . it’s in the bedroom.”
The excited waiter puts the woman’s upper side into an armchair, and then he rushes into the bedroom. A key turns in the lock, and the magician begins to pace with a resigned visage. He sighs, and then he fixes a glass of wine for the upper half of the girl. She drinks it. Some of the fluid flows out from underneath her, onto the furniture.
“You have no heart,” says the woman, rolling the glass between her fingers. The magician tries to lighten the mood with a joke:
“But I have. I keep it in one of my trick pockets.” He slips his fingers under his shirt. To his surprise, he feels something soft and hairy between his skin and the cloth. He pulls out a drowned rabbit. He shakes the dead animal, and then he throws it into the corner of the room and fills a glass for himself.