The Genie arrived in a blaze of glory. Actually, he arrived on the blazing meteorite the other night as it crash-landed out by the Lake. I thought it was a shooting star at first – another one – and I suppose I was right, for shooting stars are bits of space stuff entering the Earth’s atmosphere – they only become meteorites when they crash all the way down to Earth.
It just so happened that this shooting star did become a meteorite and crashed in my back yard.
As if that kind of thing happens around here. We’ll probably have giant beanstalks growing out of the hydrangeas next – well, we would if we had any hydrangeas, that is. Anyway, I digress. I’m getting ready for the ball and need to post this before the carriage turns back into a pumpkin and the white horse changes back into Olive the peacock. And, by the way, I’m not going as Cinderella – before you snigger – it isn’t a fancy dress ball. And I’m not an ugly sister before you get that one in, either. Thomasina would have my guts for garters if she thought that you all thought that.
Anyway, I got to the landing zone (sounds better than crash site!) and I helped the Genie to his feet. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever met any genies in real life, but you may have seen one or two on TV at some time or other, and you must know that they do wear some rather funky looking clothing. Well, half-wear it, anyway. Or half wear it anyway they feel like, I suppose. This one was no exception. He was wearing the back end of a pantomime cow. (And you thought the pantomime reference earlier was just for dramatic effect!)
“Help me kind maiden,” said the confused Genie, “could you tell me if you’ve seen my lamp?”
I had, as it happened, and I couldn’t resist. “It’s behind you.” I chuckled.
“I’m not falling for that one…” said the Genie, who then looked around and saw that I wasn’t making it up.
“Does that lamp come with three wishes?” I asked, trying not to sound hopeful or desperate.
“Oh no,” the Genie roared with laughter, “that practice went out with the lark.”
“Ark.” I corrected.
“Ark right.” Nodded the Genie, with a wink in confirmation, and he held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Hello.” I said as we shook hands; which was strange… it was like connecting to the very source of the Universe – although how I knew what that actually felt like was as beyond me then as it is now. But that was how it felt.
“I’m Tom”, I said.
“Strange name for a wee lassie,” The Genie said, “but each to their own, I suppose.”
“And you are…?” He wasn’t going to introduce himself, otherwise.
“Arkwright” He said, proving that he already had. “I’ve just said.”
“Ah. OK. About these wishes…” I still didn’t want to sound too pleading with the question, but I needed to know about them… for… this blog. Yes, I was going to write a post about the history of the three wishes.
“No, we don’t give three wishes anymore. Everyone has their own power within them now” Arkwright said, “They just need to tap into their own link to the source of the Universe and send their wish. And they have more than three, but we say start with three… best not be greedy.”
“So, how would we know when we’re tapping into our link to the source power of the Universe, then?” I had to ask. Didn’t I…
“Oh, you’ll just know.” Arkwright answered. Kind of. “Anyway, I must be off. Lovely to meet you, by the way. I’m playing a very important role in our amateur dramatic group out there,” – he pointed upwards – “and The Widow Twankey jumped onto a floorboard which catapulted the lamp out into the heavens. I’m not saying that Widow Twankey is on the large side or anything, but as I tried to catch the lamp it took me with it and brought me here.”
The semi-cow-clad Genie turned a dial on the lamp and then took off at great speeds, soaring higher and higher in a matter of seconds. So fast in fact, a disembodied voice was all that remained.
“Nice lake, by the way.” It said.
Anyway, it seems we now have three wishes. To start with. Best not waste them, don’t you agree?So, anyway, I’m off to the ball. Even with hair that makes me look like the Addams’ Family’s Cousin Itt. Ah well…