A Genie in a Jamby Oonah V. Joslin | |
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Chapter 3: Raspberry Rude | |
For his first proper assignment DJ wore a raspberry coloured T-shirt and leggings, with a turban to match. He was glad he’d opted for the yellow socks and white Nikes now. Head to toe raspberry would’ve been boring.
He was reluctant to level this kind of criticism at Geoffrey, who could be a little precious about his designs; and besides, Geoffrey had been very supportive during these first few weeks. DJ admired his superb design drawings. Geoffrey kept them in a huge portfolio and scanned them into a computer database for easy reference. Swatches of material were clipped onto a three-tier revolving carousel that looked to DJ like a rainbow wedding cake.
The dressing room was always neatly kept. There was a squashy velvet couch, a bit worn but comfy; a rail with plenty of spare hangers; and a long mirror behind the screen so that DJ could get the full picture. Geoffrey hadn’t once complained about DJ leaving clothing piled on the floor — he just tidied up after him. It was good to have a human friend at last.
DJ hadn’t quite mastered the art of appearing to come out of the jar at just the moment the jam was opened. It had something to do with the uncertainty principle, but DJ had never quite grasped all that technical stuff. Materialization was more an art than a science for him.
Anyway, that was why, on this first occasion, he materialized some seconds too early and under a table. It turned out to be quite advantageous though, as he got a preview of his first clients. He kept thinking how surprised they’d be — how delighted.
‘John, I can’t get the lid off this jam.’ The lady of the house lifted a laundry basket from a chair and waddled out into the garden. A cold draft swept under the table and right up DJ’s tights — most unpleasant.
‘Flamin’ Nora! I’m going to be late for work and I have that meeting today... You know...? Promotion...?’ A man stormed into the kitchen tugging at an inauspicious knot at his neck. He went over and shut the door.
John and Nora; DJ made a mental note of the names. He hadn’t noticed any flames though.
John couldn’t get the lid to budge either. ‘Flippin’ ’eck! That’s on tight.’ Then, POP!
DJ made his appearance and adjusted his red T-shirt so that the company logo showed prominently across his chest. The apparition was accompanied by an appetizing smell of fresh raspberries.
‘Grrreetings, Master.’ He’d practised that trill for ages. ‘I am the Genie of the Jam!’ DJ bowed low.
‘I couldn’t give a flyin’ fart which friend of Cindy’s you are, mate. I’m late for work!’ He looked DJ up and down. ‘God, you’re all as weird as each other!’
‘B-but you’re supposed to make a wish,’ insisted DJ.
‘A wish? Who’d you say you were again?’
‘The Genie of the Jam,’ repeated DJ. He had to acknowledge that his host seemed neither surprised nor delighted — just somewhat stressed and confused. ‘As seen on TV, sir.’
‘Well, I’ll have to think about it and get back to you tomorrow, okay, ’cos I’m in a hurry right now. Some of us work for a living, you know.’
‘It’s irregular; but I can’t see why not,’ said DJ. John swallowed a mouthful of liquid from a mug, looked once more at DJ, shook his head and rushed out the door.
DJ wondered who Cindy was. Nice name — it had a combustible ring to it. He lifted the cup and sniffed at the contents — coffee — how could they drink that? The human obsession with liquids was fascinating, though. It must be strange indeed to be 80% water instead of flame. He remembered learning in school how humans had to keep topping up because of leakage, but to observe this phenomenon in real life was nonetheless peculiar.
Nora came back looking windswept. ‘John?’
‘Oh, he’s gone.’
‘Who the hell are you? Did John let you in here?’
He bowed. ‘Grrreetings, Madam. I am the Genie of the Jam.’
‘Yes and I’m the flippin’ Tooth Fairy! What are you doing in my kitchen?’
‘I’m here to grant you a wish.’
She spoke over his reply: ‘Are you a friend of Cindy? Are you some kind of retard?’
‘No, I’m the Genie of the Jam,’ he repeated, raising one pointed eyebrow. How rude these human were! ‘As seen on TV.’
‘We’ve been through all that, Buster, now cut the crap and... Oh look, it’s raining! I knew I shouldn’t have hung them out. Listen Mr. I-don’t-know-who-you-are, you’d better disappear or I’m calling the police.’ Mobile at the ready, she began dialing.
DJ was about to literally disappear, when she pointed to the door and said, ‘That-a-way!’
‘Okay, okay!’
DJ left, as directed, by the front door. Water was falling from the sky. It was most unhealthy. So when she’d gone in, he disappeared properly and rematerialized back under the table. Handy things, tables.
DJ hadn’t envisaged this situation and he wasn’t sure what to do next. Maybe if he hung around for a bit... Somebody must want something.
Having brought in the washing, Nora grabbed her shopping bag and keys. She called out as she left, ‘Cindy, I’m going out. Don’t answer the door to anyone, right?’
‘’kay Mum!’
Cindy shuffled downstairs in her dressing gown, eyes red from crying. She toasted some bread and sat down at the table.
‘Grrreetings, young Miss,’ said DJ, this time making a very low-key appearance. He was done bowing. ‘I am the Genie of the Jam and I can grant you a wish.’
‘Cool,’ she said sarcastically and shrugged. ‘I’ve seen you on that TV ad, right? I didn’t think you actually made the rounds... Say, how’d you get in here?’
‘You’ve been crying.’
‘So?’
‘Want to talk about it?’
‘What are you? Some kind of psychologist-genie?’ She munched on her toast. ‘None of your business, but I just split up with my boyfriend, right?’
‘Right... and you’d like...?’ At last something DJ could do.
‘You to get lost, creep, or I’m calling the police!’
There was something very déjà vu about this. Must be a familial trait.
For a distressingly long moment DJ did get lost. He didn’t know where he was. Everything began fading in and out of focus. Djinn, then the kitchen, then Djinn again, the dressing room, his flat, the Council Chamber, the mines...
The mines? HELP! Sudden panic accompanied by a ringing in his ears brought him back to himself just in time to save the situation. Cindy however hadn’t seemed to notice his predicament. She dialed her mobile without taking her eyes off him. ‘Craig, there’s some weirdo here thinks he’s that genie person and...’
DJ knew his way to the front door. Once in the hall, he vanished. A faint scent of raspberry vinegar lingered in the air. Nobody could say he hadn’t tried. All in all, DJ considered he’d granted their wish. They only wished to be left alone. Anyway, now that he’d attempted to do his job, he had a little research he wanted to do — on liquids.
Later on he checked on the family just to make certain they had no memory of his previous visit. He certainly wished he had no memory of it. It had been a frustrating and disappointing start to his new career, and if Obsidian ever got wind of it, the mines surely beckoned.
‘Mum!’ whinged Cindy, ‘you’ve ruined my best top! It doesn’t tumble dry!’
‘Well, wear another, dear. Are you going out with Craig?’
‘No, Ryan. Craig’s like... history.’
‘John, you’re late dear. Did you get the promotion?’
‘Huh? Promotion? I WISH!’
Copyright © 2010 by Oonah V. Joslin
