Tag Archives: genies

The Genie Rule – Interactive Series!

Recap:

(Episode One) Peter found an oil lamp at a flea market.  After Peter paid the merchant for the lamp, the gap-toothed fellow literally disappeared.  Peter met up with his friend Larry, who offered to trade him his lame cork-and-wire banyan tree sculpture for the lamp. Peter refused.

(Episode Two) The two men headed over to Peter’s studio apartment, where the cat Ambrosia was sleeping. Peter peeked inside the lamp, but was disappointed to find it empty.  Larry told him it was the genie rule to rub the lamp.  Peter objected but Larry got his hands on the lamp and rubbed it anyway. Ambrosia freaked as a real live gorgeous genie emerged from the lamp.

And now, Episode Three of The Genie Rule

Ambrosia streaked under the sagging sleeper sofa as the smoke solidified into a gorgeous woman.  Glistening tears slipped down her lovely cheeks as she read a worn copy of Old Yeller.  With a sobbing hiccup, the genie closed the paperback and tossed it into the air.  As the book vanished, so did the tearstains that marred her beautiful face.

“That gets me every time,” she sighed.

She peered at Peter and Larry.  Peter’s eyes had bugged out and Larry’s jaw was on the floor.

“Hello, boys. I have a massage at noon so let’s get started.  Three wishes, none of which involve wishing for more wishes or taking liberties with the genie.  What’ll it be?”

Her remarks were greeted by stunned silence, but the genie merely glanced around the room.

“This is a dump, if you don’t mind me saying so.  You should wish for a better crib.”

Peter finally managed to make his mouth work.  “What’s your name?”

The genie grinned.  “You wish to know my name?”

Larry jostled Peter with his elbows. “It’s a trick.  If you say yes, you’ll lose one of your wishes.”

“Hmm.  You’re not as stupid as you look, Larry,” the genie said.

Larry’s chest puffed up.  “Okay…I want a ’67 Chevy Camaro in red.”

The genie snapped her fingers.  “Done.  The keys are in the ignition.”

Galvanized by a sudden commotion outside, Larry and Peter bolted over to the window. A vintage car was parked in the parking lot, with a gas nozzle trailing from the tank.  In the passenger side front seat sat a bleached blonde bimbo, screaming her head off.

“We don’t want a stolen car!  Put it back right now,” Peter demanded, quivering with outrage.

“Fine.” The genie snapped her fingers again and the car disappeared.  “One more wish left.”

“Nuh-uh,” Larry protested.  “We got two more wishes!”

“You wished for the car and then you wished it away,” the genie said, ticking the wishes off on her fingers one by one.  “That’s two wishes gone.  Cough up the third.”

While the genie examined her manicure, Larry and Peter began to bicker with one another.

“It’s my lamp, Larry,” Peter insisted finally. “This game is way too dangerous.  Don’t you understand? Anything we wish will lead to trouble.”

Peter took a deep breath and stared into the genie’s eyes.

“I wish to know your name,” he said.

The genie blanched.  “Oh doggy doo doo.  Now you’ve gone and done it.”

Come back next Friday for the results!

Woman in A Fiery Flame: © Natalia7 | Dreamstime.com

Magic Lamp: © Frenta | Dreamstime.com

What Is Your Wish? It’s Fantasy Friday!

© Mike Heywood | Dreamstime.com

Your friend Larry asks you to drive him to a Saturday morning flea market.  Ordinarily, you hate things like that; you usually do all your shopping over the Internet.  But Larry gave you a lift last week when your car was in the shop, so it’s an opportunity to return the favor. While he’s in the corner looking at colored glass bottle trees, something in a box underneath a table catches your eye. You lift out a quirky little vessel to examine it more closely. The metal object in your hands resembles a tarnished gravy boat, and you can’t imagine why you picked it up.

“How much for this thing?” you ask the merchant.

He smiles, revealing a wide gap where his two front teeth used to be. “It’s an oil lamp,” he replies. “That’ll be three drachmas.”

“I’m fresh out of drachmas,” you say.  “I’ll give you five bucks.”

“Done.”

You pay the man and tuck the lamp under your arm, oddly pleased.  On the way out of the flea market, you glance over your shoulder.  The merchant and his table have disappeared. A shock runs through you, and you wish you’d settled for decaf that morning.

You meet Larry as he lugs a banyan tree sculpture made of wine corks toward the car.  He gives your lamp a dubious look. “That’s a piece of junk,” he says.

You stifle a smile.  “Likewise.”

He pauses.  “Wanna trade?”

“Not on your life,” you say.

Return next Friday to see which way the story goes.  Whichever wish gets the most votes controls the outcome!

– S.G. Rogers