A GENIE’S PLEA
Can Someone Let Me Out of This Magic Lamp, Please?
It doesn’t smell great in here
I’m the genie who granted you those life-changing wishes, and I’d really like to get out of this lamp now. I had Mexican for lunch and it’s a little stuffy in here. Would you mind handing me off to a new master instead of throwing me into a pit full of treasure where I’ll lie undisturbed for the next 1,000 years?
Hey, I’ve been good to you. I played it straight with your wishes. I didn’t pull any monkey paw crap where you wish you’re a king and you end up a chess piece. I mean, I could have done that. When you asked to be rich, you could have woken up as a butter sculpture at the county fair.
But no. I gave you your preferred currency, and plenty of it. It’s not cursed money or marked bills from a robbery. I didn’t try to stick you with any Canadian quarters. You see how things could have gone down if I weren’t such a good guy? When you asked to be popular, I didn’t turn you into a Big Mac or a Bud Light. I know it sounds like I’ve given this a lot of thought, but it never even occurred to me to be a jerk. These examples are just off the top of my head.
So, what will you do now that I’ve made all your dreams come true and you’re living your happily ever after? If you’re like the others, you’ll toss me to the bottom of the ocean or bury me in the desert. What the actual fuck? Why does this keep happening to me?
Maybe I’m too nice. It doesn’t seem like it would be a huge inconvenience for you to hand me off to your sister or your favorite nephew. Keep me in the family or, if you haven’t got relatives, give me to your BFF. You could put me in your will, store me in a climate-controlled bank vault and maybe have someone summon me every few months instead of every few millennia. Or leave me as a tip for a decent waiter, for Chrissake.
You wish for a warm vacation, buddy? Spend a few centuries in this lamp in the Sahara, why dontcha. You whined about how boring it was sitting home playing Animal Crossing during the Covid quarantine. Well, try getting internet when you’re under twenty feet of desert sand. I’ve given up on the hope of anyone using their last wish to free me. I gave people too much credit, ever thinking that that might happen. But would it kill you to donate me to Goodwill?
I’m getting claustrophobic in here and starting to have panic attacks. Someone, for the love of God, let me out of this lamp already! It’s ridiculously small. I know I can work miracles with interior design, but there are only so many ways you can reconfigure a sectional in an oval room.
I’ve been patient. I’ve taken up hobbies: genealogy, Sudoku, crochet, cooking. My sous vide pork chops are fall-off-the-bone — not that I could fit dinner guests in here — but I’ve reached my limit. I don’t have space for any more handicrafts in this lamp. The next time some chucklehead asks to become rich, I’m going to make him rich in granny-square afghans.
MuddyUm Writer’s Challenge Topic 4, CLAUSTROPHOBIA