One of my hobbies is flea markets and rummage sales. I like to wander around looking for cool stuff, admiring it, haggling for deals, and people-watching.
Today, I picked up an old ornamental lamp for 75 cents. I have a good spot for it on a shelf behind the wet bar. Of course it was a little dingy, so I got a rag and started rubbing it up a bit.
And out popped a ragged-looking genie. He was a little pissed at being disturbed.
“Awright, Jack,” he said. “Ya gots t’ree wishes comin’. What’s it gonna be?”
I have no idea why he talked like a Brooklyn street thug from the fifties, but whatever.
“Okay,” I said, rubbing my hands together, “let’s start with cash. I wish for $500 million in he bank.”
The genie snapped his fingers and said “Done. Oh, and I t’ink I didn’t mention, ev’ry wish I grant youse, the Elkridge Horror gets a double-up. So he’s good for a cool billion. Capisce?”
I thought about that for a minute.
“Yeah. I got it.”
Knowing what I do about the Horror’s overall health situation, I chose my next wish with no small amount of glee. “I wish for a dozen beautiful women to be at my beck and call whenever I want.”
The genie snapped his fingers again. “12 new contacts in your phone, with photos. But the Horror just got 24.”
“Fine by me. I don’t think he’ll be able to make much use of them. And it won’t matter for long anyway.
“For my third and final wish, I want those women to beat me half to death.”