“Now, ladies and gents, you might be thinking that these are not, in fact, real coals, and that these aren’t, in fact, hot ones either.”

He seized a pair of metal tongs and lifted one orange lump up from the pile. “Well, let’s prove it to ya, eh?” And Burtininkas Richards heaved the coal into the audience. The first few rows screamed and a woman fainted. Burt laughed and showed them that the coal was attached to the tongs by a string. “No worries. But they are, indeed, real.” He set the coal back down in the pile and it went along steaming with the rest.

“Now. Wednesday, you look a mite tired, there, gal,” he continued, adopting a cheesy American Western accent (which he failed miserably at). “Let’s lasso ya ter la-la-land, eh?”

Wednesday suddenly found herself being tugged on by a rope towards the bed of blazing coals. For a moment she wondered if Burt had lost his mind.

Then she wondered how in the world she was going to get out of this.