A Genie in a Jamby Oonah V. Joslin | |
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Chapter 6: Gooseberry | |
DJ was early again. He wished he’d paid more attention in Thermal Dynamics now. He could locate the place where the jar was being opened but the uncertainty principle meant that time was a variable, and then there was the physical shift equation to take into consideration, from thermal energy to matter... This genie business was harder than they ever said in the old story books. It took tremendous concentration and practice. DJ doubted he’d ever get the hang of it.
Being early allowed him to choose the moment of his appearance, and that should have been an advantage, but it could be awkward. He lacked the prerequisite social skills to interrupt human interactions. His contact with the species so far had shown them to be unpredictable, but at least he’d learned how to hang around in an unresolved state, and it made the whole incarnation bit so much more effective.
He was almost in a hotel room. A small basket on the trolley contained an excellent selection of spreads and conserves in cute little pots. He ascertained that the names of his clients were Georgia and Neville.
Georgia ignored the jams. Neville deliberated over his choice, unaware that he had no choice; it was predetermined and there was little point in his wasting all this time deciding; but then, there was very little point in trying to explain this to clients — gooseberry preserve it had to be.
Sitting in their dressing gowns, hands intertwined over the coffee cups, Neville and Georgia stared into each others eyes and sighed contentedly. The ocean view from the window of the honeymoon suite might not have existed. They had each other.
‘Shall I pour, darling?’ Georgia dragged her hand reluctantly out of his and sighed again — their first morning together. Married life was going to be bliss. She poured two cups of coffee and added milk to only one.
In the meantime, Neville buttered a hot crumpet and enquired whether she would prefer a croissant. Crumpet, she said, would be just fine, and giggled. Neville manfully removed the lid from his little jar. The seal broke with a satisfying, POP!
‘Grrreetings!’ said DJ, seizing the moment, ‘I am the Genie of the Jam.’
The couple looked at the small, green-turbaned figure bowing low by the trolley, but their reaction, as far as DJ was concerned, was less than satisfactory. Georgia appealed at once to her new spouse to get rid of the intruder, and Neville, with a fine sense of husbandly duty, took charge of the situation — in a non-confrontational way.
‘Ah, you must be the waiter who brought the trolley. Well I think we have everything we need here, thank you, so...’ He pressed a piece of paper into DJ’s palm, took hold of his arm and began frog-marching him towards the door.
DJ struggled free and brushed himself down. ‘You misunderstand, sir. I am the Genie of the Jam.’ He thrust forward his chest in order to display the logo on his green T-shirt; a gesture which impressed no one.
‘Make him leave this instant, Neville,’ shrieked Georgia. ‘I’m not even dressed, and if you think I’m having some little oik playing gooseberry at our first breakfast...’
Neville strode back and placed a reassuring arm around her shoulder. ‘I’m here darling; nothing is going to happen to you.’ Then his tone changed as he addressed DJ. ‘You may be sure I’ll be reporting this to the management, sir,’ he said, ‘you’ve upset my wife.’
‘Oh, Neville!’ she simpered, looking up at him.
DJ thought he was going to be sick... They didn’t pay him enough! ‘Does either of you want a wish or don’t you?’ he said, ‘Because if you don’t, I’m off.’
‘No, wait a minute... A wish did you say?’ Neville was hooked. ‘I can have anything I want?’
‘Pretty much,’ replied DJ, regaining his composure, ‘if it is within my power,’ he added. (He’d been caught out like that before — world peace, indeed!)
‘Can you make me rich?’
‘Define rich,’ said the genie.
‘What kind of a genie doesn’t know what rich means?’ said Neville. ‘Rich — as in lots of money — a mansion — expensive cars — a private jet for God’s sake! RICH.’
‘That is more than one wish, sir.’
Neville was about to throw a tantrum but DJ continued, ‘If I may make a suggestion, I could arrange that you be given the necessary means to purchase all of the items you mention, with cash to spare.’
‘And you’ll do that exactly how?’ Neville was sceptical as well as impatient.
Georgia’s high voice broke into the debacle with startling effect. ‘What about me? Has everyone forgotten about me?’
‘Of course not, my petal, my own sweet love,’ fawned Neville. ‘I’m sure Mr... Jam here will grant you a wish just as soon as he’s done mine, isn’t that so?’ Neville appealed to DJ.
‘Well actually, no,’ explained the genie, ‘They are really small pots, these, and you only took one...’ Anyway he’d just decided he didn’t like being called Mr. Jam.
Georgia was wide-eyed with indignation. ‘Why should I eat jam? I never eat jam! And you mean to say you weren’t going to consult me, Neville? Well I do think this selfish of you. I never would have believed it — never...’ She held a napkin tight to her mouth.
‘You didn’t even want to talk to him a moment ago; you wanted me to throw him out!’
‘Yes, that was when I felt threatened. All you ever think about is money, Neville. You don’t really care about my happiness and security!’
‘And what’s so wrong with being rich? You’d benefit too, you know. How can you call that selfish?’
‘Hey put a lid on it, you two!’ shouted DJ, but they ignored him.
‘Some of us happen to think there are more important things in life than money, Neville! But not you, oh no! It’s all make, make, make and spend with you....’
‘Well at least I make!’
‘Why, you vile pig!’ she shrieked. ‘You know, maybe the two of you should leave together. I’m sure you’d be very happy.’ She folded her arms and turned away. ‘I wish... I wish I’d never married you, Neville Pratt!’
And so the deed was done. DJ had a quiet and uninterrupted breakfast in the Honeymoon suite, alone. He could have done without the champagne; it made a pleasing sound but it wasn’t combustible. However, the jam was very nice.
Copyright © 2010 by Oonah V. Joslin
