Despite the usual loud goings on in college dorms, there's only so long that horses can have wild passionate horsey sex in a college dorm room before someone notices. Drake the mare and Jake the rutting stallion were eventually taken off to the campus polo field while Simon, the hall RA, tried to explain things to the campus police:
"Hell if I know," Simon said. "My best guess is that while Drake and Jake were out, one of the frats snuck the horses in. Likely when someone pulled the fire alarm this morning."
"That doesn't sound very likely," said the shorter of the two police officers. She looked around the room. "So were are Drake and Jake?"
Simon shrugged. "Hell if I know. They left their cell phones on the desks."
"Well," said the taller officer. "If you find anything out, give us a call." She handed Simon her card and the both left, leaving Simon standing in the middle of a room reeking with horsey love sweat.
Simon was sweating as well. In the corner of the room, half-hidden by a pile of discarded clothes, was a bong. Or actually some sort of mini-hookah. The last thing Jake and Drake needed was to get caught for drugs on top of having their room trashed by horny horses.
Drake went and picked it up, brushing it with his hand as he did. At once, smoke funeled out of the spout. "Greetings, master!" cried the djinn. "I am Beldazzar, the Djinn of Mind and Body!"
Simon did a double take. This was obviously no ordinary bong. "What does that mean?"
"It means, o worthy one," Beldazzar explained, "that the wishes I grant are limited to changing the mind or the body, but nothing else."
"So I can't wish for money," Simon deadpanned.
"Not unless you wish to be made of money," Beldazzar explained.
Simon could put two and two together. "So those two horses--those were Drake and Jake?"
"Indeed they were." Beldazzar smiled. "Do you have a wish?"
"Did they both wish to be turned into horses or did you fuck with the interpretation of their wishes?"
Beldazzar continued to smile. "A little of both. It's complicated."
Simon raised one eyebrow. "So you can misinterpret but you can't lie?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Beldazzar sighed. "But think, o master, of the terrible regrets you will suffer if you do not wish anything. Think of all the things that you've ever wished changed and how you could have had the power to do such thing, only you through it away from cowardice and fear!"
"Or common sense," said Simon. "The only way I'd have a wish turn out right is if you were a nice genie and you're not a nice genie, are you, Beldazzar?"
"Proudly, no," Beldazzar said. "I am an exceedingly wicked and evil djinn, the pride of my cruel and wicked mother and apple of her eye."
"Fine," said Simon, "then I wish you'd shame your mother by being a nice genie and granting nice wishes."
"What?!" screamed Beldazzar. "Oh, that is totally fucked up!" He screamed and wailed, then abrubtly smiled, proclaiming, "I am Beldazzar the nice and reformed! What do you wish, oh master?"
"So you're nice now, huh?"
"Oh yes!"
"Will you misinterpret wishes?"
"Only if the wish would be something harmful," Beldazzar admitted. "I couldn't bear to see anyone harmed." He shed a regretful tear. "Oh, I have done so many wicked things in the past!"
Simon didn't much care. "Whatever. I wish to be handsome."
"Oh, but you are already handsome, master!" Beldazzar said plaintively. "A happy self image is the best thing! But..." He quivered, "I sense that is not what you want, and I can see little harm in giving you what you desire, as you desire."
At once Simon shifted from a plain ordinary college student to the very image of an Abercrombie & Fitch model, with blond hair and sparkling blue eyes and a little dimple in his chin. Simon checked himself out in the mirror. "I look kind of like a gay porn star, but this is better."
Beldazzar began to weep. "Oh, the shame of this! I have granted a nice wish! What will my mother say!"