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The genie appeared in a plume of ethereal smoke, as genies often do.
I wished for riches--and piles of money materialized, along with precious gems.
I wished for love--and a foxy harem winked into existence.
I wished for world peace. My phone bleeped with an alert: "World Peace Declared."
Then it hit me: "Hey, isn't there supposed to be an ironic downside when a genie grants your wishes? Like, all this will backfire? I'll wind up miserable and alone and ruined--or something?"
The djinn shrugged. "Maybe," he said, stentorian tones fading to wispy echoes as he vanished, along with his lamp: "Maybe not."
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"Hey!" I cried. Then louder: "HEY!" in all caps.
One of my brand-new wives clucked her tongue. "Shall we screw likes minks, buy yachts, and explore the harmonious world?"
"Maybe later. Then again...."
I sighed, as a dull ache poked my temples and the genie's distant laughter drifted on the breeze.
The End
This story was first published on Thursday, July 22nd, 2021
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