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.
zero_the_ghostdog t1_j6cdod0 wrote
Reply to [WP] A man finds a genie's bottle, complete with a real live genie. Instead of blindly asking for wishes, he first asks politely for the genies advice on what to wish for. by mdsmestad
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.