Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie (14 page)

Before I started up the clunker, I called Sherry and Virgilia on my cel. I told each of them about my housewarming party, tomorrow at an hour past noon. I told each stripper that I ordered her to come, and I expected her to stay at least till four. It turned out that both Sherry and Virgilia were scheduled to start work at four.

Recall, Reader, that both Sherry and Virgilia worked at the same place: the Nimfo Club. So I came up with a simple solution to my strippers’ problem—

“Tonight, early in your shift, both of you
together
go find your boss.
Together
you tell him that something’s come up, and you
both
are coming in late tomorrow, sometime between four and five. If the boss asks what’s so important, say, ‘It’s personal’ and tell him nothing more.”

Reader, you haven’t seen Sherry and Virgilia with very little clothing on. Whereas I have. When I told those two, “Go talk to your boss together,” I had a pretty good idea that however much the boss might bluster and complain, he’d never dare punish two such hot-looking, big-breasted blondes.

And to think, Sherry and Virgilia were
just two
of my women. Reader, life is good sometimes.

****

During the early-morning drive from the mansion to my former home, I noticed that Fatima was wearing a self-satisfied smile.

“Why are you smiling?” I asked.

“I’m thinking about what I did to Harold, and how everything turned out,” she said.

Oh Reader, you should have heard how
gleeful
she sounded, saying those words. I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised to discover Fatima rubbing her hands together while cackling
Myuhaha!

I said, “I’ve wondered what you did. Last week, Hank and Natasha were enemies. Now they’re a couple, and he’s her boy toy.”

“Except he doesn’t look like a boy now, that’s for sure!”

I decided to let that slide. Instead I asked, “So how did you do it?”

“Magic pheromones. For two days, I gave Harold mild pheromones that affected only Natasha, and that were only strong enough to overcome the disgust and loathing that any woman feels toward Harold Miller. After that, he didn’t need pheromones to attract her, because now he looked enough like her ‘heart’s desire.’ Meanwhile, I gave magic pheromones to Natasha from Day One, and her pheromones got stronger each day, like yours did.”

“So why isn’t every guy in the school throwing himself at her?”

“Because hers only affect Harold and his parents.”

“Whoa, hold on! Natasha is having sex with Harold’s parents?”

Fatima laughed. “No, and Natasha is barely having sex with Harold! Since Monday morning, all he’s gotten out of the deal was a handjob yesterday afternoon, and that was to reward him for—”

“—coming to school dressed like the main character in
I Was A Teenage Drag Queen
?”

“Oh Master, you should have seen the comedy, Thursday morning before school. I watched the whole thing later in my scrying ball, and I laughed so hard! When Natasha came to Harold’s house and rang the doorbell, both of his parents were yelling, ‘No way are you leaving the house in a skirt!’ Then Natasha walked in—two minutes later, both his parents were apologizing to her. Then the parents not only let Natasha take Harold to school in that skirt, but do you remember the shoes that he wore to school yesterday?”

“The ones bought at Porn-Actresses-Pay-Less Shoe Store?”

“Oh, this is so nasty! Thursday afternoon, Natasha called Harold’s mom and said, ‘Tonight, me and you and Harold will is go shoppink.’ Natasha didn’t
ask
Kathy Miller to come with her and Harold on a shopping trip, Natasha
told
Kathy to come. But Kathy didn’t argue. And after dinner, sure enough, all three of them went shopping. And it was Kathy Miller, Harold’s mom, who picked out those shoes that he wore yesterday!”

I said, “Wow, that’s, uh, quite a story.”

Fatima grinned. “So now Harold is Natasha’s walking, talking dress-up doll and pussy-licking sex toy.”

****

After I rang the doorbell by the familiar door, Fatima squeezed my hand. Fatima was dressed like a U. of Texas sorority girl—

Her ass-length black hair was out of its ponytail, and was curled up all girly. Her green-polished fingernails were longer than usual. She was wearing a spaghetti-strap top, shorts, high-heeled sneakers, and eye shadow. Everything was green, of course, except for the lipstick. Fatima had explained to me that since my parents thought that she was a U.T. sorority girl, she should dress the part.

Fatima must have looked good: A middle-aged man who was washing his car was definitely checking her out.

It was my mother who opened the front door of my-home-till-yesterday. Mom took one look at Fatima, grinned, and yelled back, “TOLD YOU, STEVE! YOU OWE ME FIVE BUCKS!”

I thought,
So much for “They’ll never in a million years guess who I’m bringing”!

Fatima and I walked into the living room/dining room. Interestingly, the dining-room table, which seldom gets used, was set for breakfast. Seconds later, Dad walked out of the kitchen carrying a big tray, on which sat three pitchers.

“We got milk, O.J., and tomato juice,” Dad said. “Nobody’s going thirsty!”

After I introduced Fatima to my folks (and vice versa), I leaned over to her and murmured, “Offer to help Mom in the kitchen.”

“Yes, Master,” Fatima murmured back.

Mom and Fatima fenced for a few seconds, then Mom decided to allow Fatima to carry the scrambled eggs from the kitchen.

Meanwhile, my dad asked me, straight-faced, “Sleep well last night?”

I replied with my own straight face, “I’m sure I slept about the same as you and Mom did.”

Seconds later, Fatima walked out of the kitchen, carrying a big, shallow dish filled with scrambled eggs. Behind her, Mom walked out, carrying four blue-tinted glass tumblers. Fatima put the eggs on an open place on the table, while Mom put the glasses in front of everyone’s plate. Dad sat down at the head of the table, rubbed his hands, and said, “Let’s eat.”

I was standing by the chair on the west side of the table, clearly about to sit down in it. My mother, flustered, gestured to the empty east-side chair and said to Fatima, “Then I guess you’re sitting here”—while shooting me a look that meant
Why aren’t you holding Fatima’s chair for her?

I decided, now was the time to clue my parents in. I held up my blue tumbler, and spoke a little louder than I needed to: “Fatima.”

“Yes, Master?” Fatima said.

My father coughed, hearing that. My mother gasped.

I said, “I’d rather drink from my Ghostbusters glass. Walk into the kitchen, put this glass back on its shelf, grab my Ghostbusters glass, and walk in here with it.”

“Yes, Master.” Fatima walked to my chair, took the glass from me (smiling at me as she did so), then strode into the kitchen.

My mother shot me a dirty look, before dashing after Fatima. “Honey, let me show you where—”

Dad, meanwhile, was giving me a disappointed look. “Marvin, this is
not
how to win friends and influence people.”

Now I heard my mom’s voice in the kitchen: “How’d you know where—?”

A second later, Fatima appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, holding the Ghostbusters glass. I raised my hand, both to silence my father and to stop Fatima where she was.

I said, “Fatima, please come here and hand me the glass,
without
walking here.” My ‘please’ and my raised eyebrow told her what I meant.

“Yes, Master.”

FOOM
—instantly Fatima went from standing at Mom’s elbow, to standing at mine. Fatima handed me the glass and I put it on the table, as if nothing unusual were going on.

“What just happened?” Dad demanded.

My mother, meanwhile, had stopped where she’d been when Fatima had
FOOM
ed; Mom now was staring at Fatima and me at the table.

Ignoring Dad’s question, I turned to Fatima and said, “I think we’re ready to eat. Take your seat, please.” Again I shot Fatima a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Master.”

FOOM
—Fatima went instantly from standing next to me, to sitting in the chair across the table from me.

I gestured to Mom (who was still standing in the kitchen and staring at me) to take her seat at the dining-room table. When Mom finally did, her face was full of questions.

I looked at my mom, then my dad, and said, “Folks, there’s two things you need to know. One, this last week I haven’t been honest with you. Two, Uncle Warren met this woman in 1943.”

****

About an hour later, Dad said, “I have a question for both of you. Marvin, why did you wish for so little? Fatima, why did you then give him so much?”

I said, “Because, Dad, practically the first words out of her mouth were, ‘When you make your wishes, I’m gonna twist the wording in the nastiest way I can, and then I’ll laugh at you.’ ”

Fatima nodded. “Sounds about right.”

I continued, “That’s why I didn’t make a wish to inherit Uncle Warren’s stuff. I imagined the nasty genie fixing things so that instead of only Aunt Esther challenging the will, there would be a hundred relatives, and a lot of lawyers saying a lot of slanderous things about me, that a lot of people believed. So I’d be constantly in the news for all the wrong reasons. Meanwhile, I’d have gold diggers chasing me. And it would be twenty years before some judge let me move in.”

Fatima shark-grinned. “Except I’d have never thought about news coverage. I have to remember that for next time.”

I continued, “So I decided what X I could live with. Then I told Fatima, ‘I wish for at least X,’ knowing that the nasty genie would give me exactly X and no more.”

Mom, frowning, then asked Fatima, “You were really planning to trick Marvin?”

Fatima didn’t flinch. “Yes, Mrs. Harper, if Marvin had made the usual selfish, greedy, perverted wishes that I’m used to hearing—”

“Uncle Warren,” I muttered.

“—then I would’ve tricked him.”

“Like she tricked Uncle Warren,” I said.

Dad looked at Fatima and said, “Let me ask again: Once Marvin made his wishes, why were you so generous?”

Fatima said, “Mr. Harper, let me tell you what it’s like to be a bound
djinni
. I can cast a spell and fill a room with gold coins. I can change my appearance so that I’m the most desirable woman in the world to the man in front of me—”

I said, “Really? Can you do Megan Fox as Nakeda? Yowza!”

Fatima gave me a sexy smile. “Just tell me when, Master.” Then Fatima turned back to Dad and said, “I can have all the riches I want, and all the sex I want. But what I can’t give myself is time out of the lamp. And eight days ago, my new master gave me
hours
out of the lamp. Even after I’d promised to trick him.”

I shrugged. “She’d been stuck in the lamp since 1943, and who knows how long before that? It seemed cruel to say, ‘Back you go.’ ”

Fatima continued, “Eight days ago, Master didn’t have much money, but he spent what money he had, in order to show me things that I’d never experienced before. Like 3-D movies, and tomatoes.”

Fatima lifted her glass (filled with tomato juice) and toasted me with it.

Then Fatima said, “Not much to tell after that, Mr. Harper. When your son spoke his wishes, I thought of the other bound
djinn
laughing at me: ‘Ha-ha, Fatima got played by a human!’ But then I asked myself, ‘Can I be mean and cruel to a human after he’s been so generous to me? Then how can I say afterward,
Djinn
are better than humans?’ ”

Mom smiled at me. “You always make us proud of you.”

Fatima raised a finger. “Not to mention, after the movie he asked me to memory-read him. So I’d learn 2010 English, he said. That happened, but what I didn’t tell him was I’d also learn everything that Marvin had done, said, or thought, up to that moment.”

“Oh, shit!” I muttered.

“Master, don’t worry. It was all good,” Fatima said.

Then she looked at my parents. “I memory-read him three hours after he’d rubbed the lamp. During the movie, I learned, Marvin had thought, ‘I could wish to be tall and strong like Rubert. I don’t have to stay five-foot-two anymore.’ But do you know what Marvin
didn’t
think? Never once in three hours did Marvin think, ‘Once I’m tall and strong, I’ll beat the tar out of Hank Miller.’ ”

“Who?” my mother asked.

“The starting quarterback,” I said. “That is, till last Tuesday.”

Fatima said, “Anyway, short Marvin wanted to be tall and strong
not
so he could bully anyone, but so he could help people.”

“Like Rubert in the movie was doing,” I said.

Family smiled. “Truly good people like Marvin should be rewarded. So that’s what I did, I rewarded him. Hank Miller, ditto.”

****

About ten minutes later, Fatima’s blue glass was a foot above the dining-room table, and a pitcher was pouring tomato juice into that glass. No hand touched either the pitcher or Fatima’s glass.

Dad gestured toward the floating pitcher and glass. “If it weren’t for that, there would still be a part of me wondering whether everything you’ve said was a big, fancy tale, just to flimflam your mother and me.”

“What
I
don’t understand,” Mom said, “is that in a few stories, the genie grants one wish, but in most stories, it’s three. How did you wind up with
six
?”

I said, “Because of something that isn’t in the stories. I—”

The pitcher and Fatima’s glass each hit the table with a
thump
. Fatima said, “Master, on behalf of all bound
djinn
, I beg you not to answer your mother’s question.”

“Fatima, I really would like to tell my folks this story. It makes me look good. Can you give me a
good
reason why I shouldn’t?”

Fatima’s green-glow eyes bored into mine. “How do you find people who are the truly virtuous, so you can reward them? By not telling them that they might earn a reward. If you tell your story, it might wreck what King Solomon set up.”