Restrictions and Pastry Crusts
They gave me generous limits but wanted me not to exceed them. Well, I wasn’t going to resist temptation like that, was I?
I remember my dear old mum telling me promises were like pastry crusts - made to be broken - so took the view the same could apply to restrictions. I knew what I was doing and, just as importantly, why. Where would the harm be? I forgot my dear old mum had become somewhat cynical by this stage - let down far too often by those she thought she could trust, though never by me. I thought she was unlucky, gullible, or both. I should have known the same might apply to me. I take after her a lot, see, and unlike the others, I stayed with her to the end. She appreciated that.
So what went wrong?
Every single spell I cast went wrong. It started with that wretched pumpkin. Yeah, sure, I turned it into a coach, a nice one too, but the wheels were wonky, the suspension was non-existent, and Cinders needed a load of perfume to swamp the smell of pumpkin! She walked into that ballroom smelling as if she'd fallen into a perfumery vat. And I pride myself on my subtle charms. Not a chance here! Mum would've been mortified.
The less said about the glass slippers the better, but all credit to my goddaughter for being able to walk in them, yet alone dance with His Nibs. But it is the mice I feel really bad about. The moment they stopped being footmen and changed back, a greedy fox came out of nowhere and ate the blasted lot!
The classic spellbooks tell you to use natural ingredients and use magic to exaggerate their usual qualities. It was pushing it somewhat to get transport out of organic matter yet alone make humans out of rodents.
I've got two letters on my mat. One’s from the boss. You can't miss the royal seal. Perhaps I can tell her some humans are worse than animals so I felt it would be okay to use animals to be better than humans for a bit. And I swear I had no idea that fox was lurking about!
The other letter looks like a posh invite. The stationery feels heavy. Well they can both wait. I'm shattered. I'll see what they bring tomorrow.
A Way Round
You know the old “you only have three wishes” ploy? I’ve beaten it.
I was clearing Mum's place, preparing to sell up. Dad died years ago. Mum lived again. Think prehistoric school. I miss Mum.
Anyway, I found this old lamp. I know the tale. Mum and I loved pantomime. Later, she introduced me to the theatre, Shakespeare especially.
For a laugh, I rub the lamp.
I nearly joined Mum when that genie appeared. He was equally surprised and sorry to hear about Mum. He loathed Dad.
The genie told me Mum used one wish from him for an endless supply of dirt for blackmail purposes. She then asked for two payments only to be paid in cash, never more than £5000 each, so the people concerned felt they were getting off lightly. No wonder we could afford theatre trips. It wasn’t due to Mum’s pay. She was a hospital cleaner.
If the genie gets returned to his world, he'll be executed for corruption so he must stay in his lamp. As Mum's only heir I inherit her second wish so I can keep this going! What I don’t do is use the third wish. Like Mum, I know not to be greedy. Dad never knew.
I also found Mum’s black book. There are so many in here Mum didn't blackmail. She only managed ten per cent of the politicians!
I must be off. Have lots to do! Wish me luck, maybe?
What You Wish For
I guess the old saying about being careful what you wish for is true. I wish it wasn’t! Here I am, a powerful genie, stuck in a lamp because I dare not go back to my proper world. Okay, I’m on to a good racket with the humans here but if you’d asked me, when I was in magic school, how I’d envisage my life ending up, it wouldn’t involve getting stuck in a bloody lamp!
The mistake I made was wishing to be able to get away with my “little ways”. You’re not supposed to cheat at magic. Things like using magic for your own benefit are frowned upon. Well, I wasn’t having any truck with that, was I? What is the point of being a magical genie if you can’t have any of the benefits? That life of service malarkey is for suckers!
Anyway, I must admit I did have a riotous time though one of my wishes still hasn’t happened. I’ve yet to meet the lady genie of my dreams. But overall I had fun and then the Council wanted to call me to account. I know why. I was supposed to give their head chap a rake-off from my financial gains. No way. I got myself a bigger and better lamp as I progressed and those things cost. Trust me, they cost. I guess you could say I’ve got the palatial suite of lamps If you were to see my accommodation.
So I had to run and then stay hidden in my lamp. I do take a quick peek every now and again at my old world but I daren’t connect to it for long. They could trace me, see. Head chap is still running the Council so I can’t go back with him there. And yes, I have tried wishing him away. Nothing happened there. I can only assume he’s got a bigger, more powerful genie than I looking after him. It’s a pain when that happens but hey you can’t win them all.
So I sit it out, help my humans make money from the people they’re blackmailing, and I guess you could call it keeping up my skills. I just wonder when it will end though. Nothing’s everlasting, is it?
Is it?
Wish Hard Enough
The piles of money were a joy to behold and, better still, there would be more to come. Finding that lamp in the old man's house when Mark was clearing the place out had been the find of any century.
Yeah sure, Mark knew the Aladdin story but had never dreamed there could be any truth in it. But he'd been unable to stop himself rubbing the lamp and, once over the shock of the genie turning up, had realised the potential.
What was disconcerting was the genie had been upset to hear the old man was dead and that Mark was not a blood relative. Mark had assumed genies did not have feelings and were meant to do as they were told. Still, the genie knew that now and had granted Mark's wish to develop the perfect scam.
And the money rolled in, all untraceable of course. People who could be conned deserved it, Mark had told the genie. Mark was merely fleecing the greedy. Honest people would never fall for the get rich quick scheme.
In vain did the genie say Mark had conned dementia sufferers too. Mark's view was their families should have looked after them better.
Mark poured a whisky. Some woman was coming round here in ten minutes to beg for the return of her ill father's money. Mark never let people come here as a rule but this should be good for a laugh.
He was surprised the woman was younger than he thought. The brunette was attractive too.
'You have one chance to restore my client's money. I recommend you do so.'
Well he'd give her due credit. She had a brass nerve or several dozen to come out with that on his doormat. Hadn't even got to the offer a coffee and chat her up stage.
'Client? I thought you were here for your father?'
'I am acting for the father of a friend and I know about the genie. It's time for the genie to be set free too.'
‘How the hell did you know about the genie?’
The woman smiled. ‘Because I’m the witch who put him in there in the first place. Go on, summon him up, you’ll soon see if I’m telling the truth or not.’
Mark didn’t bother. He laughed. It was the last thing he did. A puff of smoke later saw the genie standing in front of the woman and an enraged Mark entrapped in the lamp.
The genie smiled. ‘I never expected you, my nemesis, to be my deliverer.’
‘Well, the curse was broken. I had finally found someone with more reason to be entrapped than you! Now off you go and make a proper go of your magical life this time!’
.
About the author
Allison Symes, who loves quirky fiction, is published by Chapeltown Books, CafeLit, and Bridge House Publishing. She writes for Chandler’s Ford Today and Writers’ Narrative.
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