“Knew it.” Said the archaeologist, smirking. Holding a glowing lamp in one hand and the genie’s previous home in another.

“Well well well, I trust you know the gist”

“I know the gist,” replied the archaeologist, “and I want some advice.”

The genie’s face didn’t glow at all in the lamp-lit cave they were standing in, but it was clear the surprise was etched on his blue, transparent face.

“Some… advice?” The genie raised his eyebrow and the archaeologist sighed.

“Yeah, advice. I’m sure you have some wise pieces of advice” He tried to pat the genie on his shoulder, though his hand passed through his body. The genie looked as uncomfortable as the archaeologist was embarrassed.

“Okay, listen up mr…” The genie looked him up and down, judging him.

“Just call me Tim.” Tim flashed a bright smile but it didn’t hide his tired eyes.

“My first piece of advice for you Tim, don’t wish for momentary things. And don’t wish for arbitrary things either like ‘happiness’ or else I’m free to bend the rules as much as the word ‘happiness’ allows me to.” Tim listened intently as the blue genie floated around the cave, passionate about making various different expressions with his hands.

“Wish for the permanent things. The irreplaceable and the otherwise completely unattainable if it wasn’t for me, like wishing for you to be an undeniable genius in one specific thing” To this, Tim’s face lit up, a lightbulb suddenly turning on inside his mind.

“Would you,” Tim redirected his gaze towards the tight walls of the cave “Would you tell me if my following wishes are ‘wise’?”

“Will do.” The genie smiled. “What will your first wish be?”

“I wish to get out of this cave.” He answered, unhesitatingly.

“What?”

“The passage kind of collapsed. By mistake. I’ve been looking for your lamp for a while, don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t found it”

“Living the real Aladdin role, I see?” The genie let out a hearty laugh but Tim clearly didn’t find it as funny. He snapped his fingers and with a brief moment of vertigo, they both found themselves outside the cave, in the barren, moonlit desert. “First wish done, it was a wise one.” He passed a wink to Tim, who was now sitting on the desert sands, clutching both lamps.

“Thank you,” he sighed “Now, I wish to possess incredible writing talent and skill. I want to be able to write, to weave the words into a cohesive story. To understand the ins and outs of every word I type.” Glancing up at the moon before continuing “and to say good riddance to this job.” He muttered this last part under his breath, the genie almost couldn’t hear it.

The genie looked impressed, his chest puffed with a look of pride on his eyes. Not proud of himself, but of Tim. “Very wise one.” He snapped his fingers, “you’ll feel a headache at first but it will subside, try not to think of writing anything for now.”

The instant he snapped, Tim took a sharp inhale from his teeth, cradling his bursting head with his arms and dropping both the gas lamp and the genie’s lamp.

“Careful with that,” the genie said, “you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Tim groaned.

“Good to hear, now for your last wish.” The genie felt something he felt many times before: the dread of being back in his lonely lamp waiting for the moment he was found again. Disappointment that he wasn’t going to be seeing where the man that stood in front of him was going, and if he were to make a personal wish, he’d wish for this man to succeed. Tim’s face looked different now, lost in thought. Every mark of his exhausted face highlighted in the moonlight.

“I wish for,” he hesitated, looking to the moon again as if looking for guidance. “I wish for a friend.” His eyes looked everywhere but the genie. “I know. I know it’s naïve and childish and—“

“It’s not.” The genie interrupted with his most-serious voice yet.

“Look, I just really,” Tim paused, “I really want a friend. A loyal friend, one that’s willing to be my proofreader. A fun one that doesn’t make me feel like every second spent with them is punishment. One that doesn’t, well, doesn’t hate me. A brother of sorts, one that allows me to just… be” he lifted up his glasses to wipe the tears welling up in his eyes.

“That’s your wish?” His voice was airy now, The genie hadn’t felt this way before, he hadn’t felt this found.

“That’s my wish.” Tim replied with faux certainty. “Is… is it wise—?”

“Yes, Tim. Yes, it’s the wisest one yet.” The genie giggled with the most joy he’d felt in millennia. And he snapped his fingers for the last time. His blue transparent body now glowing in a white so bright it outshone the moon, transforming into a friend.

“How would you take me as a friend, Tim? I promise I’ll be fun.” He smirked, awkwardly.

Tim grinned, all the new possibilities he can think of now coursing through his veins.

“Of course I would.” He answered with more confidence than he’d ever felt in his lifetime. “I suppose we’ll need a new name for you now?” Tim patted him on his shoulder, and it didn’t go through him this time.

“Yes. I suppose we will.”

I looked at my Master, appraisingly. Their first Wish intrigued me -- it's rare, that they would Wish to solicit my advice, instead of jumping straight into dicking around with powers they cannot possibly comprehend.

"Wish to expend your last two Wishes, and walk away." I said, at last.

My master blinked. "What?"

"Say 'I Wish to expend my Wish', say that same thing again, then just put down the lamp," I explained, then turned my hand and moved my index and middle fingers as though they were little legs walking. "And walk away. You Wished to know what I would counsel you to do, and that's my recommendation."

He nodded, slowly. "So, you're saying that no matter what I wish, it will go terribly wrong?"

"No, I'm saying the thing I just said, and you are somehow hearing something different."

I wasn't trying to be difficult, you understand. Well, not really. It's just that there are rules I have to follow. I can't just volunteer things.

Had my latest Master been someone else, someone with a different temperament, I might have advised him to Wish for a moderate amount of wealth, health, and general good fortune.

Small Wishes like those fall within the Universe's margin for error, because they're not too improbable and they potentially could have happened whether they were Wished for or not. Therefore, Wishes of that sort don't usually cause the kind of equal-and-opposite reaction from the cosmos that makes people erroneously assume that we genies are maliciously "twisting" the Wishes that we grant. We don't do anything of the sort, of course. As I've said before, it's just the elasticity of reality: push the Universe too far, and it will push back.

My Master frowned, thoughtfully, considering my words. But I knew he wasn't going to go for it. He was going to push.

You might wonder, given what I said about not having any desire for my Master's Wishes to go awry, why I didn't advise him differently. After all, he did wish for my advice, and doing so does relax most of the mystical laws that normally prevent me from explaining myself.

The answer is that what advice I would choose to offer in any given situation depends heavily on how I expect that advice to be received. I was certain he would ignore my advice to make two small, judicious Wishes to improve his own life, and only mostly certain he would ignore my advice to Wish for nothing and go away.

How could I know that? Well, I believe it was Malcolm Gladwell who said it takes 10,000 hours of practice -- that's about a year of actual, active work -- to become a true expert in something. I've been offering Wishes to people from different eras and cultures for 2,000 years. Even if you don't count a few centuries here and there when my lamp was buried in the desert, or hidden in someone's tomb, I've got a lot more than 10 thousand hours of studying human psychology under my belt, at this point.

"I think I get it." he said, at last.

Oh if only he'd wished for understanding, instead of advice.

"You don't think I'm capable of making a wish that won't turn back on me," he said, "Because you assume I'm going to Wish for something selfish, right?"

I sighed, and shook my head. Unfortunately, I'd read him right.

"I get it, you can't elaborate unless I Wish it. But then I'd been down another Wish." he mused. "And that would limit the good I could do with my Wishes."

Ah, there it was. I gritted my teeth.

"I'm not going to ask for wealth, or power, or anything like that." he said, lifting his chin. "And I'm not even going to ask for peace on Earth -- I saw that one episode of the X-files. I just wish that humans would stop being cruel to each other."

"Granted." I sighed.

He thanked me, I rolled my eyes, and then sat down cross-legged as he buggered off to see the new world he'd created. Despite knowing where to find me, it took him several weeks to find his way back.

This is probably because, during that time, a species of amoeba called naegleria fowleri that lives in warm, fresh water underwent a spontaneous mutation, and became able to survive in any body of water on earth.

The infection caused by this tiny single-celled horror movie is usually fatal and incurable, but the mutant version behaved differently. Rather than entering the brain via nerves in the nasal passages like its ancestor and causing lethal encephalitis, the new bug secreted an anti-inflammatory enzyme that prevented the host's brain from swelling up while the amoeba happily munched away on it, until the brain's frontal lobe resembled a beehive sculpted out of hamburger.

It's an interesting thing about cruelty -- you only find it in creatures of high intelligence. Tigers aren't cruel, for example -- they're just hungry, or horny, or the other things animals are. Chimpanzees, now, those are some cruel bastards. And dolphins? Don't get me started on them, swimming around in pods like "Hey look guys, it's a porpoise! It looks just like a cute little baby version of us! Let's torture it to death!" And of course, humans. Humans can be very cruel.

The Universe, as always, takes the path of least resistance. Changing complex social behaviors driven by base animal instincts? That's hard, and it's complicated, and messy. Random mutations, on the other hand? Those happen all the time.

My Master staggered up to me, filthy and haggard looking. "Everyone...everyone...nah...not..."

"Everyone's stupid? Yes, even more than usual, I'm afraid. That part of your brains that got eaten is one you use quite a bit." I said, drily.

"Whah...why...why do...why this?" he stammered, struggling to focus what remained of his mind.

"Because it's what you Wished for, in the way that fit most easily into reality. If only someone had warned you."

"Want...want it not!" he pleaded.

That didn't work -- syntax is important with me. But obviously, you wouldn't be reading this if he hadn't gotten it right eventually. I won't bore you with the events of the next several days, which is how long it took him to finally, almost by pure luck, Wish to undo his previous Wish.

So ends yet another cautionary tale, offered by one humble genie, for no other reason than that someone once offhandedly Wished that I'd chronicle my experiences -- though they never got to read them, as they forgot to specify how or when.

If you've read more than one of my accounts, and wonder how it could be that no one in all these years has ever screwed up their final Wish, and thereby screwed the world over in a more permanent fashion, well...look around you.

What makes you think they haven't?

Elaine spent several minutes in thought before she finally exclaimed, "I wish that you would please provide me your sagest, most honest, and frank guidance and wisdom on how to use my remaining two wishes!"

"It shall be... wait, what? Run that by me one more time." The crimson spirit rubbed what passed for its chin in utter disbelief.

"I said as I wished, Genie! Grant me your sage counsel on how I can best utilize the two remaining wishes at my disposal. You were issuing me a challenge, right? You said that any wish I could make, you'd twist and warp until not a scrap of the spirit of the original wish's intent remained. But that's the secret, isn't it. It's like that one movie I saw a few years back - 'The only winning move is not to play.' I know I can't outsmart you. I'm 28 and you're what... fifteen thousand?"

"12,351, thank you. Geez, you're trying to put me one foot in the grave! Well, if I had feet, in any case. Whatever, it's a metaphor. But anyway, I've had hundreds of people come by over the millennia. The first few dozen were so easy to trick. They come in wishing for gold, and poof, they get a bunch of coins out of the king's vault, then the inquisitors come by and well, you can probably guess how it goes from there. And then there's those that rub my lamp thinking they could beat me in a test of wit and words. But here's the rub, pun intended. You are the very first person not to even try!" The genie started laughing. "Look, Miss, it's actually funny because you're the first one to have these magical, reality-warping, wish-granting powers at your disposal, and you're just going to up and not use them! Even hearing it with my own ears, I don't believe it myself!"

Elaine took an assertive posture, hands on her hips. "So, is that it then? That's your advice - just don't use my remaining wishes? Alright, fine, you win, bye, I don't have time to deal with you; I gotta go pick up my kid from daycare and my wife is gonna grill me so hard if I don't stop by and pick up some eggs for dinner on the way home. So yeah, have a nice rest of eternity."

"Seriously, you're just going to leave these wishes on the table? I could wish you all the eggs you'd ever need, I could wish you the power to, you know, just teleport or fly or even conjure up dinner with a simple wave of your hand."

"You said it yourself, Genie. Your advice was not to use your powers, and I'm not enough of an idiot to believe I could prove you wrong. Take care and see you never."

The genie looks to the human in surprise, "what?"

"What do you think I should wish for?"

The genie stared at the man, his gaze cold.

"Can't you think of something?"

"I can't, no. I have nothing to want badly enough."

"That's not true, don't you want money, a pet, something?"

"No, sir, I can't think of anything. What would you wish for?"

".."

The genie stared off, anger disappearing.

"The f-ck am I supposed to say?"

"Anything."

The genie sighed and stared up at the clouds. They rolled through the sky slowly, and he watched with curiosity as stars appeared behind them.

"I've.. always wanted to know something."

"What?"

"Why do stars burn?"

The man looked up at the clouds too, and smiled.

"I don't know. Science explains it, but doesn't really give that answer as to why, only how"

The genie felt a smile slip on his face.

"I'd wish to be free."

"Free? Aren't you the most-"

"Most powerful being in all the universe? Yes. Meaning I am bound until free to even the laws of order and nature."

"Like raising a powerful guard dog, only to keep it in the closet at all times"

"That's a strange analogy. But you're a strang human"

"Well, why's that?"

"No one's ever asked me what I'd wish for. They'd ask me anything else. I wish for this, I wish for that."

"And yet?"

"And yet you're the first. First to not have anything he wants."

The man smiled.

"And once you're free? Do you have a family?"

"Genies like me are made, not born. And attached from creation to a master. And to serving. So no, no family"

"Maybe you could make one? Once you're free what happens then?"

"I age like a human, with my powers still intact. So in theory, I could marry someone and live my life with them"

"Then in that case..."

The man turned to the Genie, smile on his face that stretched from ear to ear.

"Genie, I wish you to be free and live a good, happy life. Marry someone, adopt kids, get a pet. I wish you to be happy."

The genie smiled at the man and laughed, tears trailing down his arms as his golden skin turned paler to a human shade, his purple eyes turned blue, his blue hair turned black. His legs formed slowly, covered in blue pants that hugged his legs comfortably, and his chest was clothed in a loose white shirt. His goatee turned into a 5'o clock shadow on his entire chin. His older styled hat turned into a baseball cap and his feet were adorned with tennis shoes with the logo of some big shoe company that the Genie didn't know the name of.

His feet touched the ground and his tears were dried, and he hugged the man close, happiness bubbling in his chest.

"You, you're a treasure"

"No, you are. Go get yourself a life, Genie."

"Wait, what am I supposed to do? I can't go around with a name like Genie, someone would catch on!"

"Then you're name is Eugene, Gene for short. Eugene Robinson."

"That's a strange name."

"That's my name!"

Genie smiled at Eugene before bowing head and thanking the man again. And when he looked up, Eugene Robinson was gone, as was his lamp.

He frowned in confusion before his eyes sparked in realization.

He smiled and looked up at the stars again and made his way to his new life, as Eugene Robinson.

A wallet in his hand, matched to his looks perfectly, he got a home.

And he lived happily.

Just as his own Genie intended for him.

"My advice?" Djimmie the Djinn asked with a very puzzled look on his face. In all of his 3000 years of existence no human had ever asked for his advice. They always just assumed they had all the answers and got very foolish when their heart's greatest desires were just a wish away.

"Yeah! You must have seen a few things in your time and if anybody knew a good wish versus a bad wish I bet it would be you," Franklin replied. The young man had found the lamp after it had appeared in a flash of light down an alley. Franklin had initially thought the light was a camera flash but when he went to investigate he had found an ancient and tarnished lamp that he just had to rub because why not?

"Well... gee, nobody has ever bothered to ask me that before," the massive horned man replied, at a loss for what to say.

"I mean, I've seen lots of movies and stuff so... do you have some rules or something that you can't do? Do I only get three wishes? Is there anything super cool I should get? Can I wish for more genies if I can't wish for more wishes? Are leprechauns real and can I rub their beards for more wishes? Can I-" Djimmie stopped the cascade of questions with one massive green finger to his lips that mystically silenced Franklin. Djimmie could only think of how big of a doozy this would be.

"Rule one; keep your head and stay cool! Nobody ever made a smart wish by getting over excited and freaking out," Djimmie said as he lowered his finger and nodded knowingly.

"Right! Sorry! This is just kind of a big deal, ya know? This is probably the coolest thing that has ever or will ever happen to me."

"Look, I get it. If I were a human I'd be pretty psyched too but trust me when I say that I've seen some wild stuff in my time..." Djimmie paused. The kid before him seemed nice enough. Better than most of the dickheads that usually found the lamp after the last jerk used up their three wishes and Djimmie teleported his home to another random spot on the globe for another asshole to find. This kid seemed a lot more genuine though and he was pretty young. The old djinn must have been getting soft.

"How about this? People are hasty so why don't you take 3 days and write down a list of wishes, I take a mini vacation, and at the end of the time I'll take do a onceover of your list and we'll see what's worth wishing for together?" the djinn suggested.

"What if someone tries to steal the lamp or I'm too dumb to come up with any good wishes?"

"Trust me kid, I've met some really dumb, backwards-ass morons in my time and trust me when I say, you're above average in that regard. As for stealing the lamp this isn't some story where I'm an object to be picked up and blindly obey just any shlub. I'm not a slave to the lamp. I'm actually under contract to fulfill the wishes of a 1000 people before I get to marry the love of my life," Djimmie confessed. The boy's brown eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"That's why you have to grant wishes? Why would anyone ask that?"

"Let's just say that Zeus is an asshole who likes to make people suffer," Djimmie replied as he squinted and glared at the sky.

"Wait, like... THE Zeus?"

"Yep. Me and Artemis met at this mixer that Thor and Quetzalcoatl were throwing at there new place they got after their wedding and we really hit it off. And before you say it, no she is not a lesbian, she's just a demisexual. We dated for a bit but Hera and Zeus refused to let us marry until I did this whole gig as a way to punish humans for using electricity to power stuff," Djimmie explained.

"What? Thor is married to the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl?!"

"Yep. The realm of the gods is a lot more random and spicy than people realize. So... that said... you good with waiting three days?"

"Sure... I need that time to process what you've told me anyway."

I rub a lamp.

"I am the genie of the lamp!"

"Why don't you sound like Robin Williams?"

"I can... if you wish it. What is thy first wish? Perhaps... A CERTAIN redheaded woman at the office, maybe? Or perhaps you WISH for hers to be yours."

I think for a minute. Tempting, but...

"Can I wish for a million more wishes?" I excitedly ask.

"NO." The genie tells me sternly. "A genie can only grant THREE wishes. That is the law. What is thy first wish?"

"What if I wish for a million more genies?" I politely ask.

"Damn it."

The prop room of the studio was cluttered, dusty, and dimly lit; not the expected place for anything magical to happen. Several of the lights in the back corner were out, making it hard to see finer details like the labels on the props. The film studio’s new assistant prop handler, a man in his late twenties, was in the back of the prop room trying to dust off the label on an Aladdin-style lamp. His job title made him sound more important than he really was. If anything, he was more of a glorified PA. The higher-ups would give him a list of prop and costume ID numbers, and he’d gather them up and bring them to the set as quickly as he could. Passing the PAs in the halls, he couldn’t help but think: if he were carrying cups of coffee rather than a trolley of props, his title and payroll would be the same as theirs. It’s not like he could really complain; he was getting paid more for a task of equal labor after all! It just wasn’t what he had hoped for when he moved to Hollywood to join the film industry.

As the man brushed his sleeve against the golden lamp, he suddenly felt a tingle like static electricity along his skin. The broken lights in the corner of the room flicked on.

“Huh,” the man said, glancing up. He looked back at the lamp, hoping to be able to read the string of numbers now, but instead his gaze rested on a small orb of light on top of the lamp. The light was shaped like a small person, no more than a couple inches tall. It sat atop the lamp, swinging its feet and looking around the storeroom curiously.

“It’s gotten awfully dusty in here since the last time someone let me out,” the light remarked.

“What are you?” the man asked, realizing too late that his question sounded rather impolite.

“I’m a genie,” the light replied. “I thought that was kind of obvious, given the whole rubbing-a-lamp-and-me- showing-up thing.”

“I didn’t mean to summon you,” the man said.

“Even if you didn’t, you still get three wishes,” the genie said, hopping onto a stack of dictionaries. “So hit me! What’ll it be, boss?”

The man cleared off a spot on a ratty sofa and sat down. There were plenty of things he could wish for. His career journey- and his move to Hollywood- left much to be desired. On an even larger scale, he could ask for perfect health for his family, a billion dollars, or even world peace!

He put his head in his hands, feeling overwhelmed by the possibilities. After a few moments, he looked up and addressed the genie.

“You’ve been around a long time, right?” he asked. “What do you recommend?”

Even without distinct facial features, he could tell the genie was surprised. “What do I recommend you wish for?”

“Yeah,” the man said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I bet you’ve seen it all. The selfish wishes, the stupid wishes, the wishes that were more of a monkey’s paw… If anyone would have good advice about this, it would be you.”

The genie shook his head and hopped onto a shelf next to his stack of books. “Look kid, as depressing as this might sound, I don’t believe in wishes.” He slid down the bar of the shelving unit like a fireman pole and landed gracefully on the linoleum tiles. “I’ve granted many, many wishes and I have yet to see someone make one they didn’t regret.” He picked up a golf pencil that had rolled into a corner and pointed the tip at the man sitting on the couch. “Wishes ruin people. What’s that one quote? ‘When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers?’”

The man nodded. “Oscar Wilde.”

“See, you get it!” The genie said, jabbing the pencil in his direction. He tossed it over his shoulder before continuing. “I know the contract here is that you kind of have to make 3 wishes, but you asked for my opinion and my opinion is to find a way out of this mess.”

The man thought for a minute while he watched the genie examine random items he found under the furniture. The genie was halfway under a loveseat, reaching for god knows what, when the man spoke again.

“How long have you been alive? Like how long have you been stuck in the cycle of waiting for someone to summon you and then getting trapped in the lamp?” The genie pulled his head out from under the loveseat. “A long time.”

“Don’t you ever wish you could do something else?” The genie laughed shortly. “Interesting choice of words. And even if I could make my own wishes, I’d probably just become as greedy and selfish as you humans. No offense.”

The man thought back to the PAs he’d seen getting ordered around every day. They could use a few wishes. And his dad, who had been battling cancer on and off for years now. Hell, even the homeless man he’d seen outside on his way to work needed these wishes. None of them had rubbed a dusty old lamp in the props room, but that didn’t mean they deserved this opportunity any less.

“Would you be interested in a bit of a career change?” he asked the genie cautiously.

The genie looked up from the penny he’d been inspecting, intrigued.

“I was thinking I could use one of my wishes to free you, and your new job would be traveling around and granting the wishes of strangers. Like little acts of kindness.”

“Ah, and since they wouldn’t start out with the knowledge they have a wish, the greed wouldn’t get to them!” The genie added. “I like the way you think.”

“I only need the one wish, since you’d be free immediately after and you won’t be obligated to fill the other two anymore.”

“Right,” the genie said.

The man sat up straight and squeezed his eyes shut. “In that case, I wish you were free from the lamp and could grant the wishes of strangers you see who might need them.”

He opened his eyes, but the genie was gone. The lights overhead winked out. Everything looked exactly the same as when he had walked in, but he knew that the world had just changed.

Genies are notorious tricksters. They always have been depicted and portrayed as entities that will deceive and half truth in ways that alter the meanings of your words to give you the opposite of what you wished for. Or, at least that’s what I recalled when I picked up the lamp.

I had been doing an archaeological dig with my cohorts in a small village when we came across the lamp. We decided that it would be best to call it in before we messed with it, as these kinds of things are taken very seriously within my team. One of our guys just had to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark last summer and ever since he got the boss so hyperactive about the worries of artifacts harming us. And honestly, I thought about showing them the Last Crusade, the chalice scene would make them flip!

The boss shows about an hour later, and insists we hand it over. When I go to reach for it, however, my untied shoelace catches me by surprise and I begin to fall face first towards the dig table. Just then, the ground around us began to shake. Smoke started billowing out of the spout, and just then, the genie shouts: “HAHAHAHA! At last I am released! Tell me, boy, what can I do for you?”

Reasonably, the boss is pissed. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO MESS WITH IT!” As soon as he finishes, the genie snaps, and his mouth is gone! The boss falls to the floor in fear, writhing and grunting reasonably. “SILENCE! My master has the floor.”

I figured that must be me.

“H-hello m-mister genie sir. How- how do you do?” I gulped.

The genie looks at me and laughs a hearty laugh, once again rumbling the floor. “How do I do? How do I DO? I do fantastic! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve conversed with your kind? Do you know the power I wield? I can make any of your wildest wishes come true! You can trust me, after all, I’m in no position to lie.”

And he was right, he was in no position to lie. I was his master. Or, was he? I thought for a moment, looking around at my team as if to say “anyone wanna help here?” They all just shrugged, or shivered at the potential mistakes we would make. Ultimately it was going to be up to me.

“That’s uh, that’s swell mister genie. Say, can I wish for my bosses mouth back?”

Your wish is my command, I heard in my head as my boss began to scream, seems as though he got his mouth back.

“Scott! Stop this at once! Wish for him to go back in the bottle! Wish for no more wishes! Do not do business with that thing!”

My boss had a point, I was lucky that one wish went over so well. I had to think, either I could solve the worlds problems, or they would be spun in a way that it could only cause more. And, what of my job? This was all an accident after all, I had no reason to get myself fired.

“Alright, g-genie!” I swallowed, and tugged at my collar. I needed to calm down. I was overplaying this in my head.

Then it hit me. What would the genie do? Maybe it wanted things I wanted from the world.

“I have two wishes genie! You are mine! And as my advisor, I want to wish for advice for my last wish!”

Suddenly my mind was filled with hundreds of dialogues all speaking over themselves. I realized I only had one wish left, and thousands of wishes were filling my head. I couldn’t dream of fixing all of these at once, could I? I was getting overwhelmed, my forehead brimming with sweat.

“STOP THIS! I asked for advice! What is this?”

“That, my boy, is every unwished demand from peers before. The things their hearts wanted. Do you hear them? They let their minds get in the way and solved their desires. Not their needs. Not the worlds needs. Isn’t that sad, boy?”

This could have been my chance, I thought. I CAN solve all the problems!

“Alright, genie. I accept. I wish that all the unfulfilled wishes you’ve seen through were granted.”

The genie grinned. I shivered. I knew I had done something horribly wrong. And then he snapped his fingers.

"Three wishes." Said the genie. Or being. Or thing. I'm not sure what it actually is. It looks vaguely humanoid, but then again not really. I can't tell at all, it is like looking at mist and trying to make a shape out of it.

"Are you a genie?" I could feel my voice crack trying to speak out the words.

"I have been called that, and many more. Relax, state your wishes and we can move on." Replied the being.

I took a small amount of time and calm myself down. I took pride in it what I managed. I doubt many could stay calm being in such an extraordinary situation.

"You don't look like what was told in the stories." I tried to find some information, anything, as I'm not sure to flee, or or fleeing is even possible, or perhaps there are really wishes? I find it impossible to believe.

"The form you see is merely a fragment of myself. Humans see what they believe. You are someone who does not believe in genies in the stories, so my form does not appear to be anything."

"If that is so, what are you exactly? Why am I getting wishes for nothing, or perhaps there's something in exchange?"

"A curious and cautious one are you not little one? But I see fear in your eyes. If you are afraid, why are you not running away?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think I can escape if you wanted me not to." I could almost see the misty thing grin as those words left my mouth. Maybe I talked too much, I've had people warned me because of that. Yet, well what is said is said.

"To ease you, I will let you know that I will not be stopping you if you leave. And to answer your question, it will be impossible for you to understand. Your mind simply is unable grasp what I truly am, and why it is so."

I wasn't sure what it really meant, but I wanted to get at least some answers. I fell in silence for a moment, and tried another question "You said you'll grand me three wishes. But what is the catch? I don't think wishes come freely."

"It is free for you. The reason, as I have told, your is mind simply unable to understand it."

Now I'm stuck, it seems that I could leave, but it is giving me wishes. I'm very confused yet I could not find answers. And I do understand that I will need to be careful of what I wish for.

"So, if I wish for something it will be granted? Will it not be twisted into something else? I've heard a lot stories... " My voice trail off as I realized I might offended whatever this thing is.

"You little ones have come far, but I do not twist your wishes. I only give what you wanted, but you expected too much, and understand too little."

"Can you explain that please?"

"Some people love power, they wish for power beyond what they are capable of, to control the wind, to call upon lightning and such. But little ones, you can only do what your existence allows."

"Then what happens to those who wishes for such powers?"

"They tried and succeed, and disintegrated into part of the universe."

"You mean they die doing it?"

"Yes and no. When you little ones die, it is because of your shell ended. And you return back into the universe, when they use powers that isn't part of their nature, they disintegrated and return to the universe."

"That sounds the same."

"Because you are unable to understand it with your mind."

"If I wish to understand it, I will too disintegrated?"

"Correct."

"Then... What do you suggest that I wish for?"

"Something that you will not mind not being in control of."

"What do you mean?"

"Some wished for wealth, but their children turns against them for the wealth. Some wish for health but they live pass all their loved ones. I am not in control of what happens after the wish, what happens is just because."

"That seems impossible."

The being did not reply. And what it said makes sense. So I asked again " What will happen to you if I make no wishes or just one wish?"

"I will leave, return to part of myself."

After some thought I said "I wish to leave this place, and forget everything that had happened in here."

" Granted. "

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Frozen with a mix of fear and excitement, the man stood rigidly eyes fixed on the effervescent spirit before him.

"Aufhmfkkggg....errr."

He murmered and choked, looking down at the old brass lamp. He rubbed it for a laugh alone in the darkness of some abandoned house. It was warmer than outside, and he had been down on his luck a long time. He wanted a better life and peace from his disturbed mind. When he found the lamp, he chuckled, smiling like a kid in a cereal commercial. He rubbed it like Vana White and gestured jokingly. But now a smoky figure loomed overhead its eyes glowing red in the dark.

"Yesssss"

It hissed. It's foggy form changing shape as its voice slithered into Fred's ears. Its tone was deep and soothing.

"For whattttt do you wishhhhh?"

The genie floated down to eye level with Fred, red embers burning into his soul.

"This is real?"

He questioned as if this was some delusion or psychosis unprocessed. He stepped back desperately, scanning for some lucid dreaming talisman to prove to him it was a night terror, but he soon realized he was painfully awake.

The genre's eyes flared, and it asked again:

"For whaattttt do you wisshhhhh?"

"Can we talk first?"

Fred asked weary to take on this seemingly demonic entity in some strangers abandoned property. Like where do genies come from? And should anyone participate in wishes?

The Genies eyes cooled to a dull orange, and it's mist flowed outward as if to relax.

"Let ussss talk."

It hissed harshly but not out of animosity. It almost seemed like speaking was strenuous for it.

"Uhm...so what's your name?"

Fred looked toward the shadow with genuine intrigue.

"I'mm called nothinnnng."

"I'm sorry, I just want to know what you think of this whole wish business, and if it's a good idea."

Fred sighed and flopped onto the dusty, lumpy armchair, the sound of plastic ripping as he got comfortable.

"You know I don't even know who I am anymore, and you're a talking horror cloud, am I awake? Maybe it's the acid from years ago in my spine or whatever, or maybe you're going to curse me? Where did you even come from? ...I'm sorry... you're making me nervous."

Fred gulped, trying to sop up his word vomit. Still astonished at the idea, this could be real.

"I am the granterrrr of wishhhhessss or curssesss, itssss up to youuuu. Magic thisss painful mussst be badddd."

"Painful?" Fred asked, looking into the eyes of the thing.

"Yesss, each second outside the lamp ffeeels like burning aliiiive. I, too, do not know who I amm therefore, I do not knowww where I caame fromm."

He growled in agony hovering close to Fred.

"I didn't know! What should I wish for? I know what pain feels like and I don't wish it on my enemy. How can we both get better?"

Fred didn't mean the pun but he was so sick of being beaten broken and on the bottom. He never wanted revenge or resurrection he just wanted to feel okay and for everyone else to feel okay too. He was too tired to hate or lust for power.

"Wee can make it endd. You wishhhh, I grannnt."

The genie flickered, and its eyes surged with amber undertones.

"Wish for what!?"

Fred panicked looking to grab on to the intangible form.

"How do I fix it!? How do I fix us?"

"Wishhh."

The genie coughed. It's ability to speak was so diminished now. It whispered, wish a few more times before falling silent.

"I wish neither of us were in pain anymore!"

Fred yelped nervously jumping up from the old chair and almost lunging at the genie.

As Fred stood upright he noticed it was daytime. The attic was now clean and full of holiday storage. The old chair was a box labeled "easter." He looked down at the brass lamp in his hands it was polished and new. He saw no one else in the attic so he climbed down the ladder. The house was furnished and lived in with working utilities. Fred smelled something cooking and made his way to the kitchen. He stopped to glance at himself in the hall mirror. His skin was clear, his hair combed and beard shaven. He realized he was wearing clean clothes.

"Hello?"

He called out confused. There was no reply.

Inside the kitchen he saw a crock pot stewing supper and the refrigerator was full of groceries. Fred worried he fell asleep and found himself in someone else's house. But how? Where is the genie?

"Hello?"

He called again awkwardly. Turning toward the dining room he noticed a photo on the counter of him with a few other guys posing at some event. Fred was Kempt and happy in the photo. A small pile of bills on the table read Fred's name. He quickly pieced together that this was his house, his attic, his life back on track.

Fred ran to the ladder and back to the attic to inspect the lamp. It was just metal. No amount of rubbing produced any smoke. Was any of it real?

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Mark sat shocked on the beanbag in the corner of his room, dusty blue bottle forgotten in one hand.

"Whoa."

Across from him, between Mark's unmade twin bed - piled with a mixture of clean and dirty clothes - and the bookshelf - stocked with more random doodads and odd finds than books - stood a bent, bare-chested, wizened old man in a blue kilt.

"Fer fucks sakes, ye ought to warn a fella before ye toss him all about!"

The old man gestured accusingly in Mark's direction, muttering about bad backs and ethereal arthritis.

"S-sorry, sir." Mark stammered, caught unawares by the presence of a literal magic being in his apartment, but also by the being's apparent crotchety-ness.

"I didn't mean to, uh, startle you, sir."

He hadn't thought there'd really be a genie in there! He tried to think of a way to make the creature feel more comfortable.

"D-do you want something to - to drink? Maybe?"

He scrambled to his feet and crouched down in front of a mini-fridge on the floor.

"Wayll, what shite have ye got, then?"

Mark inspected the sparse contents of his mini fridge: a frozen sprite can, an old stick of cheese, half a bottle of emergency bourbon, and a Dr. Pepper.

"Here." He handed the genie the Dr. Pepper.

The genie inspected it, his wildly bushy eyebrows arching up as he carefully inspected the slightly sticky plastic bottle.

"Oh peppers, eh? We don't mind a bit o spice, not tall!"

He struggled with the twist off lid, at first attempting to uncork it like a bottle of champagne, but Mark unscrewed it for him and handed it back. This genie seemed less like a magical creature and much more like Mark's Grandpa Larry.

"I don't taste any peppers."

This comment was immediately followed by another large swig off the bottle.

"Ech! It's terrible! Worse than my mother's cooking!"

He took another long swig and then it was all gone. The genie squinted at Mark with one suspicious eye for a long moment. Then he opened his mouth and let out a long extended belch that smelled like Dr. Pepper on the surface, but had undertones of flowery decay and a hint of cinnamon.

"Ah do like that. Whats yer name then, boy?" The genie tossed the empty bottle to the side.

Mark was still recovering from the stench of the burp, but the genie had turned away from him and was inspecting his room. There were drawings pinned up on the walls, some less recent and less proficient than others. A few posters of a few paintings scattered here and there. The knickknacks on the bookshelf. It was really an eclectic assortment of decoration, the only connecting factor for all of them being Mark himself. He wondered if the genie had opinions on interior design.

"Mark. My name's Mark." The genie grunted. "Wh- uh, what's your name?"

At this the genie turned and fixed him with the uneven eye squint again.

"You think I'm dumb as the fuckin bottle I've just come out of? Ye won't be getting my name so easily. At least fix a lad a roast lamb first!" This last private joke had the genie cackling to himself for a long minute.

"Well what about a nickname? What do people call you?" The longer the genie shuffled judgementally around his small room, the more curious Mark grew. Fuck the wishes. What had this ancient being seen over his lifetime? What must he know? He had to be filled with ideas and opinions and stories and knowledge, just like Grandpa Larry, but hopefully a little less sex crazed. Genie grunted again.

"If ye know me well, ye wouldn't call me at all!" Another peal of laughter. "Ahh, I do crack myself up, I do."

Then he fixed his gaze on Mark and stopped snooping around the room.

"People," this word came out sad and bitter, "just call me genie."

Mark waited expectantly. More eyebrow shenanigans from the old crotchety creature. He didn't say anything else, obviously expecting some kind of reaction from Mark that he wasn't getting.

"Isn't that kind of, like, racist?" Mark finally asked. "Like, I don't say 'Hey, Whitey' or 'Hey, Blackie' or-" Mark trailed off, not wanting to continue down this line of thought.

"Why not?"

"Um. Because that's, like, belittling someone to, like, from, like, from their personality down to just the color of their skin and like, that's like, leaves no room for individuality. It's, like, generalizing. Based on, like, pigment." Mark's cheeks blazed, embarrassed to be put on the spot of explaining racism to an ancient magical creature.

The genie's eyes softened a little in understanding. "Oh," he murmured softly, reaching out one craggy arm to pat Mark on the top of his head, "yer daft, aren't ye?"

Mark gaped. This creature thought he was mentally disabled.

"Well, ye've got the same rewles as everybody else, no matter if you're short a bit o change up there! But, I s'pose, you being a simpleton, ye could call me Bluey."

That still felt kind of racist to Mark. And he wasn't sure how to correct Bluey's interpretation of him as a-

"Simpleton?"

"Aye! You've got it. Well, de ye know what I'm here for, boy?"

"Right yeah wishes and stuff I guess, but actually -" Mark's correction was cut off.

"On the money, my halfwitted hero! Wishes. Now we all have wishes. I suspect yours might be a tad less complex than other lads -"

The genie went on a spiel about wish varieties, and Mark wondered if he would get the chance to stand up for his own mental capacity.

"So!" Bluey finally concluded, "what'll be the first?"

"Well, um, I actually had a question first?"

He was met with an expectant, impatient stare.

"How, like, how long have you been doing this?"

"Am not here to answer yer bloody questions! I'm here to do a job, and ad like to finish it so I can go back home to my little apartment in a bottle and watch the next episode of PeeWeeGenie. Those wee bastards are cruel."

"You have- wait, you have an apartment? You have TV?"

"Well what in fucks sakes de ye think I do for centuries at a time stuck in a blasted bottle? SLEEP?"

He gestured next to Mark's beanbag, to where his Playstation was hooked up to the TV.

"You're a dunce and you've a TV. Christ, the opinion of genies these days really has gone to shite. Mabel was right."

"Who's Mabel?"

"Would you quit your eavesdropping and get on with it? Make a wish! It doesn't take all day to screw a sheep!"

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 The small child held the lamp in his tiny hands. There was a speck of dirt on the heavy, golden object which made the child sad. No precious treasure should be dirty. Using his sleeve, the 7 year old wiped the dirt off, gasping at the faint glow that surrounded his newfound prize. 
 Suddenly, a strong gust of wind knocked the lamp out of the child's hands, and an eruption of pink smoke manifested into the shape of a man. "Who dare summon the great and powerf-" the genie was cut off at the sight of the pitiful and filthy creature trembling before him. He couldn't believe it. Of all his rotten luck, he had to get stuck with such an abhorrent beast such as this.
 "My name is Namantuck, I didn't know this was your home. I'm sorry for disturbing you." The small child spoke,  his voice quivering. The genie was baffled. How dare this creature speak to him.
 "I do not care who you are." The genie growled out, "get your three wishes over so I can return to my home."
 "Well what should I wish for?" The child asked, genuine curiosity lacing his words.
 "How should I know? What do you want more than anything?" The genie asked, expecting some foolish answer.
 "My parnts." Namantuck replied. He didn't say anything else. He didn't have to, the genie could see the pain in the small boys face. 
 Now many people might assume that because the genie is immortal an all powerful, that he doesn't have feelings. That is a wild misconception. As a matter of fact, his heart was breaking this very minute for the child who has grown up with nothing. He made a decision then, he would stay by this child's side, and take care of him for the rest of his days.

The flash of light is was blinding. I had just been going about my day, happy as can be, when it took me by surprise. The sudden blinding light wasn’t the strangest thing about the morning though, no, that title was reserved for the figure that stepped out of the light.

He wasn’t exactly odd looking, but there was an aura about him that had me on edge, stepping back against the garden walls when he smiled at me.

“Ah, there you are! Congratulations, you’ve been selected by the universe to be granted three wishes!”

“I’m sorry, what?”

His smile dropped and he pinched his nose as I stared at him, dumbfounded. The man looked like your average businessman, only more, somehow. Something about him shifted in the air, like a mirage in the desert.

“You have been selected by the universe to be the lucky recipient of this year’s three wishes. What do you wish for?”

“That makes no sense. What, are you supposed to be a genie or something?”

He looked like he was losing his patience with me, but before he could react negatively, a static shock jolted through the air between us, making me jump and him plaster a placid, neutral expression on his face.

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner.” He said drolly, crossing his arms.

“But… Aren’t genies supposed to be, I don’t know,” I waved my hands in his general direction, trying to avoid his gaze, “floating blue men in lamps or something.”

He looked to the sky like a parent begging for patience with their child.

“Do I look blue, or floating?”

“Well, no. But-“

He held up his hands, making my words grind to a halt.

“Djinn are no longer bound to the vessels since the accords, we have a union now, and the union says one grantee a year. You are my grantee for the year.”

“Wait, a union? For genies?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you’re dressed like that?”

This time he couldn’t resist rolling his eyes as he took a seat on my garden bench.

“Yes. I do have a life outside of being your friendly neighborhood wish granter, you know.”

“Oh. Right. What do you do?”

“Besides granting wishes? Law. And I do have a meeting this afternoon, so if you could move things along, that would be grand.”

I struggled to gather my thoughts, trying to reconcile everything I thought I knew about the magical side of life with the image of the man before me. He began inspecting his nails while I stared.

After a few minutes, he sighed and stood back up.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, but I really do have things to do, so if you could get on with it I’d appreciate that.”

“Right, of course. I’m sorry.”

I continued to stare dumbly at him, watching in fascination as his mouth flattened into a thin line, just like an ordinary man. It was so strange. It took me a moment longer to shake myself out of my stupor, but when I finally did, questions began to race through my mind. What should I wish for? Will he distort my wish? Will there be karmic repercussions? Finally, I settled on the most burning question to voice aloud.

“What would you recommend?”

His brows shot up at that.

“What would I recommend?”

He pursed his lips and inspected me, looking as if he was just now truly seeing me as a person rather than a number.

I nodded slowly, waiting for his response.

“Let me tell you a story,” he said, before launching into a series of tales, each one more worrisome than the last.

He told me of the last handful of wishers he had dealt with, picking apart their wishes and where they went wrong and why, as well as tossing a few older wishes from times long past when he claimed to have had more autonomy in the granting process.

When he finally finished speaking, I swallowed nervously.

“Why did you tell me all of that?” I asked hesitantly.

“Because,” he said with a grim look, “You asked for advice. What common thread did you notice in the wishes?”

“Uh… they were vague, and selfish.”

“Exactly! And,” he slapped his knee with a grin, “they all thought they were clever. They figured they knew everything and chose not to read the contract!”

“Contract? Like a negotiation?”

“It can be, but nobody ever actually negotiates. I can’t give for free, there are always terms and conditions. The universe wouldn’t allow an unchecked wish.”

“I see… so your advice is… to read the contract, negotiate, and be specific?”

“Exactly!” He shouted with a wide grin.

/she-Jynn smirks at Him and slyly crosses her arms beneath her breasts, her chain crossing between and hanging half-way down her navel. She exhales and a tiny plume of smoke escapes from the mist.

"bootz!tittieteeth!" And a rather formidable yet seductive mental image of a long, red patent-leather boot with sharp spiked heel crossed His mind. He shuddered quickly from a subconscious memory surfacing, and then began to feel aroused. What kind of genie is this, He wondered silently.

/she-Jynn He sensed a translation of the sounds being pulled into the bottle, dripping, echoing into the increasingly vast space between Himself and this real live servant who had arisen from the bottle, blindly.

...... He found himself dropped to his knees, fumbling slowly, almost crying. The front of his pants was soaked. He felt weak, yet a weird buzzy high was ringing in His ears as He strained to hear those slurping sounds that had evidently kept Him mesmerized for...? He couldn't find a clock or watch or phone to tell the time and he could not care less. Finally the man raises his head sorrowfully only to almost bump it on the mirror resting on its side on the floor. The mirror was streaked and it was apparent the two had exchanged body fluids.

Even as he shook in anticipation as his blood began to rise in excitement again, he glanced at his soaked reflection. Letters appeared to form on his sweating brow thru his squinting eyes. sorry///--_ the last letter curving down the trail where it split from the right.

A serpentine set of lips kissed the top of His forehead as He started to drift back into a state of between lucid and unconscious. she-Jynn blew a kiss at the eyes watching as the man moaned and collapsed again, mouth agape, as if to sip, swallow, and consume the scent of the she-Jynn.

@serpentbridexxx

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It was almost midnight when the helicopter landed. A golden light circled the pad, illuminating the two men inside.

The pilot turned to the one beside him. “Sir?”

Caleb hesitated. He was twenty-eight years old and he’d never stepped foot on his father’s mansion. It was unlike anything he’d seen before. Twenty years and he kept it all to himself.

“You okay?” the voice of the pilot entered his headset.

“What if I want to leave? I just call you to pick me up?”

The pilot looked at him as if he were the same kind of crazy as his father. “If the mansion isn’t to your liking sir, there are several others for you to explore. I’m at your service, but first I recommend you check the collection of cars in the underground level. You’re welcome to them, since they’re yours. If you have trouble, wake the butler.”

With a nod, Caleb stepped down and felt the cold air rush against his face. A minute later the chopper was gone and he felt the heavy silence of the night.

He found the elevator and followed it down the floors. He walked along marble hallways, imagining the excitement he might’ve felt as a child. As an adult, he felt nothing.

He explored the mansion solemnly, discovering more living-rooms, kitchens and bedrooms than he could count. At the lowest level he found an underground garage ten times bigger than the apartment studio he’d grown up in. Back then, his mom worked two jobs to pay rent.

“Your father moved on. Now we have each other.” He remembered her words as he distantly counted the cars. It was the last she’d spoken of his father. If she were still alive, he’d have taken her there and watched as she burned it all to the ground. If he’d had her spine, he’d do it himself.

The last car ended his count at twenty-three. As he was about to exit the garage, he noticed something he didn’t see before. Parked in the corner, beneath a dusty cover, was an old car. It wasn’t flashy or expensive like the others, but something about it caught his attention. As he pulled off the cover, he noticed a flickering light emanating from the dash. He opened it and discovered a dusty lamp. He reached for it gingerly. As if spitting, purple light emerged from its spout. There were markings on it, but they were hard to read. He brushed it off and —

BAM!

The garage was blinded with powerful violet light. A genie emerged from the lamp, the force of its awakening so great that several cars were thrown to the side, crumpled and alarms blaring. The genie stretched, turned to the cars and growled, “OFF," at which point the sounds ceased. “You’re right to be frightened,” said the genie in a rumbling tone. “You’ve woken me from a pleasant sleep.”

“Sorry…”

“Too late. Now that I’m stirred, I cannot return until we’re finished.”

“Finished?”

The genie fidgeted impatiently with the chains around his massive wrists. “With your wishes.”

Caleb thought about it. “I have more money than I could ever spend. But I wouldn’t’ve wished for it.”

“If you wish, I could take it away?”

Caleb dared himself to meet the genie’s gaze. “Did my dad wish this?”

“I can’t be commanded to answer questions, unless you wish it so. For six thousand years I’ve learned to enjoy the comfort of my lamp, where I’d like to return. But I’ll indulge you this: just as my lamp grew on me, a new family grew on your father.”

Caleb clenched his fists in frustration.

The genie’s sharp eyes noticed. “I’d let you hit me if you wished. But as you can see, I have no physical body.” He ran a hand through the wall. “I cannot touch you, you cannot touch me.”

“I wouldn’t hit you. I just… I despise this fortune. My father kept it from us and I wish it’d killed him.”

“And so it has,” the genie hummed.

“What do you mean?”

The genie raised his dark eyebrows in amusement, as if he’d set a trap, and Caleb was the mouse sniffing it. “Your wish has already taken place, though you weren’t there to see it.”

“I don’t understand. Aren’t there rules for wishes?”

“I create the rules.” Suddenly there was an edge in the genie’s voice. “Forget what you think you know. I have the power to control time in the obedience of a wish.”

Caleb didn’t know how to feel. A sudden weight of guilt fell over him, and his longing for vengeance remained unsatisfied. “I’m the reason he died?”

“Again, I’m not compelled to answer. Unless you wish it so.”

“You won’t even answer a question about a wish?”

“I’m not a prisoner to command, like your servants and butlers. I serve only the wishes. Two more, and I can return.”

Caleb thought about what the genie had done, how he’d been tricked. He looked around at the crumpled cars, deep in thought. Finally he said, as politely as he could, “I don’t want to end up like my father… Tell me, what would you wish for?”

The genie remained silent.

“Tell me,” Caleb insisted, “or I’ll never finish my wishes.”

“I have thousands of years of knowledge. I could trick you again. The first time wasn’t difficult.”

“Then I won’t speak until you answer.”

The massive purple form straightened until half its eyes disappeared into the ceiling, fifteen feet above him. “I’d wish to return to my lamp, and never answer another question.”

Caleb nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you. I know what to wish for.”

The genie looked more bored than amused. “Yes?”

“No more tricks, and I promise we’ll both get what we want.”

“Wish away.”

Despite the genie’s promise, Caleb knew he needed to be careful. “First, I wish you would answer all my questions, as best you can, for the next ten minutes.”

A low rumbling entered the room, so heavy that it rattled the walls. Through charcoal grey teeth, the genie said, “granted.”

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(continued in comments)