"Wait, so he hit you?" the young adventurer asked, sliding another drink across the worn tabletop, hoping to lubricate my throat, if not my imagination.
"That's right. A real, genuine Djinn…"
He interrupted me "…that's a genie, right?"
"Yes, a… er… genie. You know, from an old oil lamp, yes. Very good young man."
I took a sip from the proffered whiskey
"So, what did you say to him? Why was he so angry?"
"Well, he told me 'Before you start, you can't wish for more wishes.' and I said 'I wish you could.' That's when he hit me!"
When I was a child, we used to have pet mice. The first one was called Snips and I don't remember how or why, but we had it for a few weeks and then it died.
According to Grandpop, who is not the most reliable storyteller...no, that's not quite true. He's a reliable storyteller, he's just not the most reliable truthteller. According to Grandpop, Snips didn't die of any ordinary mouse cause of death.
Snips died because he got in with the wrong type of animal.
Again, I'll stress that this is all according to Grandpop, not something I saw...
Black and white. I couldn't believe Dad had done it again.
I know I'm lucky, I do. You can say I'm spoiled if you like, but it doesn't matter - I'd asked for ONE THING this Christmas, and it was colour.
I looked up at my father, tried to fake a smile, and said 'Thanks'. As soon as he turned away, I rolled my eyes, and unwrapped my next present.
A sweater. Great. I wondered what colour it was - if I went out wearing this and one of my friends actually GOT what she asked for and could see...
The disco ball was turning.
The Mighty Fwarriors turned in shock. Their ambush on the Gold Chain Club had been going well - too well. Now they watched, as the disco ball slowly turned...into Disco Bull.
"Curses!" shouted Melissa, leader of the Fwarriors. She'd hoped that just once, just this one time, they could have a successful ambush, but she knew that it was probably too much to ask for.
Superheroes, supervillains - these are normally pretty clear cut terms. One group fight on the side of good, the other on the side of "evil". But in the real world,...
I looked at the passport, and then back up at the woman standing in front of me.
"Are you serious?" I asked, a puzzled look on my face.
She looked sad.
"What is to be funny?" she said, her broken English somehow endearing.
"I don't know how they do things in..." I turned her passport over, and looked at the country name listed. It took up three lines, and many of the letters just looked like squiggles to me. "...your home country, but over here we do things differently."
"Is me!" she smiled, and I felt my tough exterior melting...
The audience stared open mouthed at me. I was petrified at when had just come out of my mouth. Then Amy Smythe began to cry. I don`t blame her, I would have cried, too, if my co-star had called me a stuck-up cow on stage. I could feel the Drama Teacher coming forwards to kick me off stage and tell everyone that there had been a mistake, that the show couldn`t go on now that it`s star had obviously had a psychotic episode onstage. Jeez, I was in for it now. My principal was going to call me in tomorrow...
"Constellation of freckles."
I made a face. "Oh, that's going on the list."
She nodded with a degree of authority - she hadn't needed me to tell her it belonged on our list of paticularly purple prose, our list of phrases that were to be avoided at all costs.
"Can you even get a constellation of freckles?"
"Well, of course you can, it's an arrangement - it's the implication I resent. That freckles are like stars - who'd have starry freckles? You can't wish on a freckle."
"You could. I think that could be quite a romantic scene."
The conversation lasted two words.
At least, by the computer's definition of 'word'. That was definitely the source of the bug.
Lazy summer days are so much fun. The sun shining down, fresh apples on the trees, dropping down, and soft grass to lie on. Just pure bliss.
I reach into the picnic hamper next to me, and pull out a banana. Peeling it, I look around. No one else is here yet. That just makes things even better. I stuff the banana into my mouth.
It tastes just as good as the day feels.
I hear a shriek behind me. Turning around, I see a pretty young lady, her features pushed out of shape into a look of fear. She...
Stupid, insignificant human! Does he not realise his days are numbered? As soon as he releases me from this cardboard prison, he will die! Now I just need to get him to let me out. Perhaps mewing pathetically will do the trick. I do hate to degrade myself in such a manner, but if needs must...
I tell you, my life was perfect before he came along. The Owners used to feed me, tickle me under the chin until I purred, and let me take over the Big Bed during the day. Sometimes even at night too. Mmmm. Those were...