You hear whistling from outside the lamp. It has to be your ex. The tune is one that your ex knows you hate.
"My, my, looks like somebody lost all their clothing, even their undies," your ex comments to nobody in particular.
You shout madly for help, but your voice goes unheard in the attic outside the lamp.
Someone picked up the lamp, your big toe pokes you in your eye, as your compressed body shifts in the lamp.
Rub the goddamn lamp already! Rub it!
You hear something starting to brush against the outside of the lamp. You feel static all around you. Then it stops. Another brush, and pause
Finally, a earnest rubbing, and you feel an electric jolt as you spew out of the lamp opening as a cloud of smoke.
Your ex is standing there with your lamp swinging from your ex's index finger.
"I see you found my going away present, hon," your ex says.
Your eyes go wide with anger. Your ex did this to you?!
"Don't you have something to say to me, hon?"
You think:Yes, yes, I want to tell you where to go, but I can't. Instead you have to say, "I am the slave of the lamp. Whosoever rubs the lamp is my master. What is your wish oh great master?"
Your ex laughs maliciously, you just know you will hate the wish even before it's spoken. You ex whaps your penis with a backhand movement.
"Hm, since you're my slave, and I have to look at you. I think we need to start with a few improvements in your appearance. "