I feel a bit sorry for the genie. I mean, being cursed probably isn’t easy. And he must have been really lonely, spending two hundred years alone in that box.
“Do you need to eat, sleep, take a shower, or whatever?” I ask him, trying to be nice.
“I am very fond of eating and drinking, indeed. However, I’ve been dormant for two-hundred years so I am not in a hurry to rest,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Anyhow, why would I be in need of a rainstorm?”
“A rainstorm?” I repeat, perplexed.
“You asked if I needed to take a shower.”
“I meant to wash yourself,” I explain, rolling my eyes. “Like taking a bath.”
“That would be most refreshing, if it is not too much trouble to warm the water.”
“The water comes out already warm.”
“From the well?”
“No, from the in-house plumbing. I’ll show you later.” I drop the issue. “Do you need to eat? I have some Chinese leftovers.”
“Chinese?” he asks, skeptical.
“You know, I don’t have a horde of cooks to prepare you delicacies.”
“Nothing to worry about—I can conjure food in case of need.”
“So you can use magic even if I don’t wish for anything?”
“For minor things, yes, I can.”
“Minor things like what?”
“Food, for example.”
“Gosh, you are infuriating, you know?” This is the last time I try to be friendly with him. “I should kick that British derriere of yours.”
“I would not attempt such a thing if I were you.”
“Why?” I challenge him. “Will you kick back?”
“No, I would never lay hands on a woman. But, I should advise you not to touch me when we are alone. I have been told it could prove a most unpleasant ordeal.”
“Like what?” I ask, and impulsively reach for his arm.
My fingertips freeze on the spot, and the most gelid shiver passes through my entire body. I retrieve my hand as quickly as I can, blowing on it to try to warm it. It was like touching liquid ice and having it soak underneath my skin.
It takes me five good minutes to stop trembling. Definitely an experience not to repeat.
“That was horrible!” I say as soon as my teeth stop chattering.
“I did warn you.” He gives me the eighteenth century’s version of “I told you so”.
“Nothing could have warned me of that! Anyway, I need something hot. Would you like some infusion? Or do you only drink tea? ‘Cause I don’t have it,” I retort nastily.
“Not to worry, I can make my own,” he replies smugly.
This genie of the box is really annoying. I should just wish my wishes and get rid of him.
“So, how does this work?” I ask, purposely changing the subject. As I start to clatter with the pots in my kitchen, I add, “Can people see you? Hear you? Or am I the only one?”
“It depends. Actually, it is for you to decide. There will be circumstances in which you’ll need me with you, but not visible to others. And vice versa.”
“Mmm, good. And will you look like this…?” I ask, circling my index in the air around him. “When you are visible to others?”
“That is also for you to decide. I mostly prefer to go around as myself, but I can assume any human form you will need me to,” he replies tensely.
“Ok. And when you are visible to others, if someone touches you will they freeze to death?” I want to make sure none of my loved ones will experience the bone-chilling touch. I am barely recovering from it now, thanks to the soothing warmth of my honey-vanilla chamomile.
“No, they will not.”
“And if I touch you in public? Do I still get to freeze?”
“No, you do not.”
“So why can’t I touch you right now?”
“It is a rule.”
“A very stupid one! Why should I risk freezing to death if I bump into you by mistake?”
“It was put in place to avoid improper interactions.”
“What improper interactions?”
“You know…the romantic kind.”
“Yikes, no chance in hell. No offense.” He’s really attractive, but personality-wise I don’t like him one bit.
“None taken.”
“Since we’re clear on this point, can we change this rule?”
“I am afraid not.”
“That’s crazy. Who’s deciding all this rules anyway?”
“The same person who cursed me,” he replies gloomily.
Oh no, oh no. Back off, reverse gear. We have a funereal suffering face again. I’d better change the subject quickly to avoid further mood-worsening.
“Anything else I need to know?” I ask.
“Yes. As I am your servant, you may command me to return to the coffer and summon me again when necessary.” He still sounds rattled.
“Aha! So I can get rid of you anytime I want?”
“Yes, you may.” His reply is strained.
Okay, not the best of times for jokes.
“Don’t worry, I’m not evil. I’m not going to do that, I promise.” I smile, trying to soothe him.
He doesn’t say anything, but he seems relieved.
“Very well, now that we’ve sorted out all the boring stuff, can I express my first wish?”
“I beg your pardon?” he asks, surprised. “Do you not need at least a night of rest before you decide?”
“Oh no, I’ve wanted this all of my life—I don’t need to think about it for a minute longer. I want to be able to shapeshift like Mystique in X-Men!”
“Forgive me, I am quite at a loss here. I do not know what you mean.”
“Wait, wait.” I am too excited to pay him any attention. “I also wish to make others change if I want it.”
“I dare say I do not quite understand your desire, Miss Johnson. I do not happen to be acquainted with this Lady Mystique you are referring to. Anyway, there is a procedure to follow in order to—”
“Oooh, you don’t know anything! Why couldn’t I get an up-to-date genie?”
“I apologize for being such a disappointment to you, milady. I—”
“Don’t get all touchy with me again.” I cut him off. “Just tell me what I have to do.”
“I was not about to—”
“Stop whining and tell me the procedure.” I air quote procedure.
“Very well,” he replies, still offended. “All you have to do is to state clearly what your desire is, and pronounce the incantation Avra Kehdabra.”
“Abracadabra, really? Are you messing with me?” I ask, very skeptical.
“Not Abracadabra, Avra Kehdabra. These are very ancient words, never to be disparaged. They behold immemorial powers.”
“Abracadabra?”
“Avra Kehdabra! It means ‘I will create as I speak’. Please be serious about this—it is of the utmost importance. You have to believe the words for them to work.”
“Okay, okay. No need to get all worked up. I am very serious. Can you repeat it one more time?”
“Avra Kehdabra.”
“Abrakedabra.”
“Avra Kehdabra.”
“Avrakedabra”
“It is two words. Avra…”
“Avra.”
“Kehdabra.”
“Kedabra.”
“Almost. Try to pronounce it like me. Kehdabra.”
“Kehdabra.”
“Good! Now the two together. Avra Kehdabra.”
“Avra Kehdabra.”
“Perfect!”
“Uhuh.” I clap my hands happily.
“Now you may proceed and express your wish. Remember, state what you desire and immediately after, say ‘Avra Kehdabra’.”
“Avra Kehdabra. Okay, I’ve got it. Can I go?”
“Yes.”
“Crap, this is more stressing than I thought.” I shake my hands forcefully to try to calm down. “Okay. Here I go. I wish to have the power to change my body and others’ as well, whenever I want, in any way I want, just by thinking about it. Avra Kehdabra.”
CLINK.
“What was that? Did I do it right?”
“Yes, you did. That was the little wheel on the coffer turning—it will do so for every wish you express.”
“Come with me,” I say in a shrill voice.
I am so impatient I am about to drag him by the arm, except that I remember the horrible shivering that would come from it. So I signal for him to follow me instead. I almost run to my room and start peeling off my clothes in an excited frenzy.
“Oh,” he exclaims, visibly reddening when he joins me. “I apologize, milady. I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy.”
“Don’t be silly, Genie, come in!” I beckon him to enter the room. “Don’t tell me you’re shy. You seem to be blushing a little.”
“I am most certainly not blushing, I simply did not anticipate that you were about to show me your nudities.”
“Oh, come on! You must have seen a woman in a bikini before. Thinking about it, maybe you’ve not. Anyway, in this century this—” I say, pointing at my underwear, “is a perfectly appropriate attire, at least for the beach.”
I position myself expectantly in front of my wardrobe that is perfect for the task, having two huge, mirrored sliding doors and a line of spotlights on top of it, which I turn on.
“Your lamps are truly luminous,” the genie says. “What kind of oil do they utilize?”
“Oil?” I ask, puzzled. “These are electrical.”
“Are you burning amber, then?”
“Amber? No! I’m not burning anything,” I say, exasperated. I don’t have the time for a physics class, plus I am not exactly an expert. “There are these little electron-thingies,” I try to explain. “They run in the wire and make it become luminescent somehow.”
He stares at me blankly.
“I’ll update you on the modern world later,” I say impatiently. “Tell me how this works. What should I do?”
“Ah, yes, yes. Of course.”
He seems still a bit distracted by my lack of clothes, or maybe it is the electricity thing? Who knows? I wonder if he still thinks like a man, if he has the same longings…
“All you have to do is concentrate,” he explains, “and visualize what you want.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“No more gibberish?”
“It is not gibberish. I beg you, these are ancient incantations toward which you need to pay the utmost respect.”
“Whatever. Am I good to go?”
“Yes, just concentrate.”
“Ah. Let’s the fun begin.” I stretch out like an athlete before an important game. “You can sit down if you want—this is going to take a while.”
“Do not worry about me, milady, I crave a bit of a stretch myself.”
“Okay, suit yourself. Here we go.”
First of all: hair. I concentrate hard on the mirror. I want double the hair, double the thickness.
SWISH.
I feel a gentle prickle in my scalp, and WOW! It worked! I lean closer toward the mirror, still incredulous. This is the best! For the first time in my life, my hair doesn’t look fine and limp, but lush and voluptuous. I can’t stop running my hands through it. Let’s make it even better.
I concentrate again, imagining my hair to look like those of models in TV commercials, all shiny and soft. Let’s also make it an inch longer. Screw today’s haircut, I can finally have long hair.
SWISH.
Split ends be banned.
SWISH.
“This is awesome,” I say, beaming toward the genie.
“You look radiant,” he flatters me.
“Thank you.” I make a small curtsy. “And this is just the beginning.”
“I am glad you are enjoying yourself.”
“Genie, it’s amazing. Now, let’s get rid of another kind of hair,” I say enthusiastically.
I focus again on the mirror, picturing all the hair from my legs, arms, armpits, lips, and bikini-line, gone forever. Even the ingrown ones.
SWISH.
I feel the same warm prickle as before, but this time it’s all over my body. I gently caress my skin. This is a dream come true! No more waxing, no more shaving, and no more ingrown hair that makes my legs look like chicken skin. I sit on the bed to examine them better; they never looked this smooth, not even after an hour of torturous scrubbing. By the end of this I am going to be perfect.
“Is hair such a vexation for you?”
“Ah, yes! It is—was—so annoying. But isn’t it the same for men and having to shave every day?”
“Yes, yes indeed. I forgot how harassing it could get. I have not shaved for a long time, you see.”
“So you get it. For girls it’s the same, especially now. You’ll understand the first time we go out. There’s a lot more of skin showing these days compared to your time.”
“I most definitely cannot wait to witness such a display.”
“Back to me now, you wily old fossil. Let’s get rid of all the cellulite as well.” Not that I have much, but still.
Eyes on the mirror. I imagine my skin tight, smooth, spotless, and orange-peel-effect free.
SWISH.
“Ah, ah, ah.” This time, the tingling is so universally spread that it makes me tickle badly.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, it was just a funny sensation,” I reassure him.
Let’s continue the hard work here.
“I want my eye circles gone.”
SWISH.
“I want to lose five pounds.”
SWISH.
“Wow! Let’s make it seven.”
SWISH.
“Super wow!”
“Satisfied?”
“This is the best! The best ever!”
Now I try to imagine how my body would look if I went to the gym every day.
SWISH.
Ouch! I went a bit too muscular and I look like a professional bodybuilder. I should tone it down a little.
“Hey, what do I do if I want to revoke my latest change?”
“Were you planning on boxing?” he replies, eying me, evidently amused.
“Can I go back or not?” I ask, quite alarmed at this point. I don’t want to look like a female version of Arnold Schwarzenegger for the rest of my life.
“Just think about yourself five seconds ago.”
POOF.
I am back to my unmuscular self. Let’s try this again. I concentrate, picturing a Gwyneth-Paltrow-in-Iron-Man-III kind of body.
SWISH.
Et voilà. This is more like it. My limbs look fit and toned. My abs are tight, my buttocks round, and my saddle bags are vanquished forever. It’s perfect…no gym ever again.
Is there anything else I need to fix? Ah yes, nails and eyebrows. Since I had them done today they look perfect, but I want them to stay that way always. Teeth whitening. And maybe I could pop my boobs up a notch, as if I was wearing a push up all the time. Ok, I could also inflate them a little bit.
I add these final adjustments and admire the result in the mirror. I didn’t need a major makeover or anything, but I was full of all those small defects that can drive you crazy and require a lot of work to be kept in check, or that can’t be helped at all. Like my limp hair. Now I can get rid of the endless array of beauty products sitting in my bathroom, even the new ones I’ve bought today.
I am jubilant. I look the best I could ever look while still being myself, and I feel wonderful. Ready for war.
“What do you think?” I turn to the genie.
“You look mostly the same to me, except your skin seems to be glowing.”
“Thank you, Genie, that’s exactly what I was aiming for.”
“You are a jot too skinny, if I may say.”
“Well, Genie, you know what they say…you can never be too rich or too thin.” Which, so to speak, brings me precisely to my second wish.