The smoke is everywhere. You flay your arms madly and cough.
"Where's the genie?" you ask rubbing the smoke from your eyes. The smoke dissipates and there is only the lamp.
Suddenly, you hear a chime from the lamp. You reach down and pick it up. You hear a voice speaking softly. Maybe it's a tiny genie. You put your ear up to the lamp opening and focus on the tinny voice. It's a recording, you realize with widening eyes. Is this some sort of novelty lamp?
"You have just activated your genie of the lamp kit. Currently, the lamp is unoccupied. Since you have activated the lamp, shortly the vacancy of genie of the lamp will be filled. There are several rules you need to be aware of as regards genies and wishes," droned the tinny voice. You recall enough of your Arabian Nights to know that the rules are key in commanding genies, so you listen attentively. Even if it might be only a novelty lamp. It's just too sophisticated to be a cheap novelty. You desperately want it to be real.
The lamp drones on, "Each time an occupied lamp is activated the genie of the lamp must materialize and grant the rubber's wish. Each human is permitted up to three wishes per household. Genies must grant the wish requested, but have latitude with those parameters. If for example your master of the moment wishes for a ton of gold bricks, but doesn't specify how he is to receive it, the genie may bury him in gold bricks.
"When the genie is not granting wishes, it must resume its place as prisoner of the lamp. A genie may be released only if one of his master's wishes it, or after he's granted 30,000 wishes. The genie is permitted to use magic for its own gratification only within the confines of its lamp."
"You are now ready to become the new prisoner of the lamp, and to assume your place in a long line of genies," concludes the voice in the lamp.
"Take my place as a genie? Are you crazy!" you say trying to throw the lamp away, but it seems glued to your hand.
You suddenly notice that your skin is darkening and your body becoming more muscular. You shuffle over toward the mirror, and are amazed to see your body assuming the traditional form of a bearded bald giant of genie. Your skin is crawling and your eyes are the odd shade of purple.
You notice the cloud of smoke forming around you. You shake your head, and scream in an ever shrinking voice as you shrunken and sucked with the smoke into the lamp.
You fight violently, but all that you succeed in doing is rocking your brass prison a bit. Finally, you resign yourself to your fate and begin to decorate your metal prison. You can do magic, sort of. Your first wish for light produces a dim fluorescent bulb hanging from a socket swinging from a cord attached to the ceiling. You concentrate and that fluorescent is replaced with a glittering chandelier. You create rich Persian carpets for the floor, and pillows decorating it in the fashion of the Arabian Nights. Now all you need are dancing girls. You grin, and wish. Instead of dancing girls, you hear a fog horn, and a sign appears.
"MAXIMUM OCCUPANCY ONE" proclaims the sign.
Great trapped all alone, you may go mad.
Just then you hear the clang of a distant door. Oh, right it's the building super, he's supposed to fix your sink. Maybe he'll rub your lamp.
Wait there are two sets of feet, you hear the super's voice, "Ok-ay, Mig-el, you fix the sink in here, and then come up to Six- Oh - Two. Says, Zero, Dose! Capeesh?"
"Yes, Mr. Jones, Six- Oh Two," he says aping the super's slow speech.
"Okay then get to work," the super orders and then he slams the door as he leaves.
"Ignorant bigot, doesn't think I understand any English. I was fucking born here," Miguel says angrily slamming his tool chest to the floor. It bangs against the lamp.
"Eh, what's this? My lucky day?" Miguel asks as he picks up the lamp, and rubs it, "I wish I was the head rooster in the chicken coop!" Miguel exclaims even before the smoke begins to emerge.
You are back in your apartment for the moment, but the wish compels you, and you blurt out, "Your wish is my command."
Instantly, Miguel lets out a cockadoodledoo, and grabs his throat.
His arms and legs seem to grow scrawnier and his neck elongates. His shoes rip apart as his toes splay into bird claws. A red wattle can be seen as his black hairs begin to fall from his head. He chokes and spits out blood and teeth. He rushes to the mirror by the door and stares in agony and horror as his face contorts to form a shiny yellow beak. He notices the room seems to be growing. He hears screams changing to cackling coming from the adjacent apartments as the occupants transform into chickens too. The whole building creaks and shifts as the brick building, furniture and fixtures begin to fade and shift.
In a few minutes, Miguel, the super and all the occupants of your apartment building have been reduced to barnyard fowl, and the corner on which your building stood is now a vacant lot, except for a chicken coop surrounded by chicken wire in the middle of the dirt lot. You see Miguel flapping madly in the air showing his dominance over the other fowl. Yep, he's cock of the walk now.
As you are sucked back with the smoke into the lamp, you notice a police car pulling up next to the fire hydrant, and a young officer stepping out of the car staring at the lot where the building had been. You also hear the voice of children, and young men before the darkness envelops you.
Back in your lamp, you decide to redecorate the place with a high def tv, dvd player, and satellite hook up.
"One down, 29,999 to go," you mutter, as you tumble back on your butt. Someone has picked up the lamp. Now will they rub it?