Chapter Two - Click. Zap. POOF.

CHAPTER TWO

Click. Zap. POOF.

CLICK.

THE CHAIN snapped down with a little metallic twang.

The bulb buzzed, flickered once… twice…

And then the attic exploded.

Not boom exploded. More like office supply store just sneezed exploded.

There was a whoosh of hot air, a whirl of blue light, and then…

POOF.

A thick cloud of smoke burst out of the lamp lamp. Not gray or black, but a strange swirling mix of printer toner, cinnamon, and copier paper smell.

Tommy jumped back, nearly tripping over a box labeled “Dad’s Model Cars - PRICELESS.”

The smoke twisted like a tornado and condensed into a shape, a floating figure, hovering two feet above the attic floor.

He wasn’t exactly what Tommy expected.

No gold bracelets. No muscles. No dramatic genie pants or dramatic genie pose.

This genie was wearing a tie.

A real, honest-to-goodness, red-and-orange striped, coffee-stained necktie.

He had rectangle glasses halfway down his nose, a little pencil tucked behind one ear, and a clipboard cradled in his glowing blue arms.

His lower half faded into a soft spiral of swirling mist, like the tail of a polite, magical tornado.

He glanced down at Tommy and sighed, flipping a page on the clipboard.

“Name?” he said, in a voice that sounded like a customer service rep who’d already been on hold since Tuesday.

“Uh… Tommy?” Tommy blinked. “Wait, are you a…?”

“Genie. Yes.” The genie yawned without covering his mouth. “Formally: Djinn, Third-Class, Limited Scope. You may call me…” He checked the clipboard. “Actually, never mind, nobody gets it right. Just call me Genie.”

Tommy’s mouth hung open.

The genie floated down slightly, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you want to do the whole ‘Whoa! A real genie!’ routine? You get, like, thirty seconds.”

Tommy shook his head. “No, I, this is crazy! I just turned on the lamp!”

“Mmhm. Classic. That’s what I’m bound to.” He patted the crooked lamp lamp like it was a pet cat. “Budget cuts.”

He floated in a lazy circle, eyes scanning the attic like an appraiser at a garage sale. “You ever read Terms & Conditions, Tommy?”

“Uh… no?”

“Good.” The genie smiled faintly. “Keeps the surprises spicy.”

Tommy took a step forward. “So… I get wishes?”

The genie flipped a page.

“Three. Standard package. No wishing for more wishes, no messing with time travel, no turning into a dragon. We had an incident.”

He gestured to a singed corner of the scroll. It looked like someone had bitten it.

“I have so many questions,” Tommy whispered.

“Excellent. None will be answered. Any other opening comments before we proceed to contractual obligations?”

Tommy hesitated. “Wait, this is really happening?”

The genie snapped his fingers. POOF.

A perfect grilled cheese sandwich appeared in Tommy’s hand. Still warm. Cut diagonally.

Tommy stared at it, wide-eyed.

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah. This is really happening.”

“Welcome to the magic economy,” the genie muttered, flipping the page again.