Three Wishes/One Jackpot

"I'm not in the mood for this kind of humor today, Chet!"

It had to be around here somewhere. The projector. I looked at the top of the refrigerator, where months of laziness compounded by the distractions of daily life had led to an accumulation of assorted junk: cans, bottles, dishes, dusty dish towels, you name it. Perfect for stuffing a small projector amidst while I'm away.

And he would do it, too! He's just the type who will go to any length to play a practical joke on a friend--up to and including sneaking off with a house key long enough to go make a copy for the sole purpose of breaking in to set up the necessary props. But as I dug through the mismatched mess, I found nothing. I tried every ceiling corner. Nothing sticking out of the wall there. And that was when I began to feel it...

Energy, of some sort too vibrant to be a mere patch of light shining on the wall behind me. Turning around with intermittent skepticism, I held my eyelids half-open as a flimsy shield against a swirling luminescence of purple, nebulous, electrified fog which seemed to pull inward through the otherwise-boring fixture that was my living room wall. It was a perfect circle. Only about the width of an average hand, and just high enough above the floor one could stand there and reach into it with ease. The energy was indeed powerful! Enough to generate a deceptive, faint humming sound like that of an overhead powerline.

Part of me wanted to draw closer/part wanted to grab the phone and call 9-1-1; if not to get someone here to examine this potentially-deadly threat, then to affirm that my heartrate was only caused by panic. The part wanting to draw closer somehow managed to win.

"Chet!", I whimpered over my shoulder. "Get in here right this minute! I don't know where you're hiding, but enough's enough! You, Sir, are a genius, but cut it out already!" Something told me I wouldn't hear that maniacal cackle coming from anywhere this time.

"I'm not Chet. And I'm not trying to be humorous."

The upper half of my body leaned toward the tumultuous swirl, while the lower half resisted with all its might. The voice sounded like it was coming from a canyon. It was deep and god-like. Or, maybe deep and devil-like? Whatever the source, it definitely wasn't Chet-like!

Run or face it? It felt the toughest decision I'd ever had to make. "Ok.", I mumbled with fake calmness--as though it could fool such an ominous being. "I'm guessing I'm supposed to ask who you are, what this is, and how it concerns me?"

"You've heard of me. You know what you're seeing. And this may or may not concern you, depending on what you do with it."

It was all starting to give me a headache. "Look, man! I don't know where you got the equipment to create this illusion, or how you're doing that thing with your voice, but for the last time: Come out of there and quit it! It wasn't even all that funny to begin with and it sure ain't now!"

"I told you: I'm not trying to be funny. There's nothing funny about three wishes, is there?"

The words: "Oh, go to hell!" were well on their way from my brain to my tongue when the monstrous voice brought them to a screeching halt.

"Three wishes that could change your life, and the lives of those dearest to you. Three wishes... that could even change the world."

Something about an offer like that, even though too good to be true, has a way of bringing out the greedy/power-hungry/ambitious side of a person real quick I suppose. Which made me question the motives behind whoever was pulling this elaborate prank. Was this part of some clever experiment--a social study on the effect of perceived opportunity on human behavior, maybe? Nonetheless, since this guy seemed to like playing games, I figured I might as well play along.

"All right, now. There's only one dude I know of who would specifically grant three wishes, and only one platform he'd use to grant them; and that's a genie in a lamp. That right there tells me you're a phony."

The voice hissed at me, sending me back a full meter in one step. "Would you humans knock it off with this lamp and bottle thing? It's become so cliche over the millennia! Yes, there was a time when we used lamps. Resources were scarce back then because human imagination just couldn't seem to come up with anything better. Now that we have portals, that's what I use. Lamps were so constrictive, not to mention they got really, really hot when people lit them. Bet you'd find a way to squirm out of one pretty fast too if someone picked it up with possibly the intention of using it!"

A dismissive Eddie Murphy laugh bellowed from the top of my lungs. "Oh, man. You're good!"

"So, where were we? Ah, yes! Your three wishes. Well...I'm all ears!"

"Hmm, let's see...", I said with one hand under my chin and the other bracing an elbow. "I'm supposed to wish for something like immortality or a perfect body.", I pondered. "But I'm going to think outside the box here and trip him up a little."

"Make them count!", he advised as I opened my mouth.

I don't know why everyone feels the need to close their eyes while making a wish, but I stood there guilty as charged myself. "I want...a new pen. Just...a new pen. Doesn't have to be made of gold or anything; just a new pen. One can never have too many pens lying around you know."

"Granted!", Mr. "Genie" echoed. "Reach into the portal to claim your spoils."

"Now, wait a minute!", I thought. I pictured everything from this sick joker slapping a handcuff on my wrist to placing god-knows-what in my hand while running away cracking up. "If you'll excuse me for just a second...", I said in a haste to go look at the outside of the house. Where this so-called portal would be if someone had bored a hole through the wall, I saw only a wall. The same faded, gray, cheap wooded siding I'd always known. I looked around before touching it, and listened. For movement in the bushes, for the sound of spiteful giggling.

I did some hissing of my own back inside, with gritted teeth and eyes aimed way off to the side of my forearm as it disappeared into the swirling, purple void. A zapping sensation like static electricity cloaked the entire arm, and I waited.

"OK, claim the spoils!"

"There's nothing in my hand!", I complained.

"Do I have to explain everything to you? It can't materialize until it reaches your dimension!"

I promptly returned my arm to "this dimension", expecting nothing but to hear: "You are so gullible, Tyler!" from one of many familiar former high school/co-worker voices, if not several. Reddening in the face, I dared indulge them by gazing at my closed fist. "No way!"

Now this lavender kaleidoscope-on-steroids was beginning to earn my respect. The "genie"--whatever power this was--no longer brought to mind silly cartoons. Still, it was just a pen.

"Um, can I, like...retract a wish? See: In my world, we have this deal where if you buy something from a store and you change your mind about it, you can take it back and make an exchange. Surely your dimension has some kind of policy like that!"

"What do you think?", the voice responded. The vibe was both anger and amusement. "Two more!", the genie answered his own question. "Make them count!"

I never dreamed a wish coming true could cause so much stress. I hoped there wasn't a time limit here, because this was not going to be easy. "Hmms" came out of my mouth every twenty seconds or so, and now on top of the wishing, I was praying. That the genie could tolerate the snail's pace of my deliberations. I figured it best to save my stingy wish for last. After all, you can wish all you want to, but it isn't every day you get the promise of any being granted.

"I wish for world peace." It felt oddly good to say that. I didn't know I had it in me. As I awaited the summon to "claim the spoils", I bubbled up inside envisioning the glorious results. No more rivalry. No more jealousy. No more greed. It almost felt like the granting of that wish was already underway, starting with me.

"Are you sure?", the genie asked.

What the hell kind of question was this? "Of course I'm sure!", I shouted. "Who in their right mind wouldn't want world peace?" Now he was just teasing me--like some game show host. He had to be! "Yes! 'That's my final answer'.", I stated with sarcasm.

"Granted! Reach into the portal."

I couldn't imagine what could possibly be that small and yet bring about world peace. I could see the transparency solidifying as the object the genie had handed me crossed dimensions. It was a rolled-up sheet of paper. A scroll? It wasn't yellowed and ancient-looking; in fact, I could smell fresh-dried ink on it. "Really? World peace is gonna come from this? It looks like something out of a textbook for architects!" Unrolled and fully-unfolded, it was every bit the size of my kitchen table. At first, acids bit at the lining of my stomach. I'm not a math wiz! I don't know what all these numbers, and lines, and symbols mean! Then, the acids started boiling. I do know what Uranium is!

I was either getting mad or going mad. "This isn't fair!", I yelled--tempted to throw a punch through the portal regardless of the futility. "I wished for world peace, not world annihilation!"

"I said your wishes could change the world--not how they could. You asked for world peace. This is a blueprint for a hybrid nuclear weapon powerful enough to put everyone out of their misery 100 times over. Hence: world peace. All you have to do is get it in the right hands, and your wish is fulfilled."

Vision became blurry. I held the left side of my chest. "I know I can't send this wish back, but can I at least put this paper in the shredder?"

"Of course! You wished for it. It's in your dimension now. It's yours!"

I let go of my chest. There wouldn't be world peace. And there wouldn't be world annihilation.

"One more! Make it count!", the genie advised--this time with a tone that, for some reason, made me picture a guy straining with desperation to pull a friend back from the ledge of a cliff.

At this point, I considered forfeiting my last wish. If that was possible. To someone a little more skilled at this wish-making business. Everything I could think of had potential strings attached that could easily "change the world" in a really bad way. I considered wishing for a candy bar. It would amount to walking away from the ordeal empty-handed, but at least I'd be rid of the genie and the portal, and I could get on with my boring life. As I fought with my brain--and my armpits began to reek, not caring I'd just taken a shower half an hour ago--I made a decision. It might be disastrous, but I had to try. Because it had the potential to change someone's life. Not the whole world, but something.

"Genie," I said, as if asking my parents for a loan. "In this day and age--this dimension--financial experts all agree that the average person needs at least two million dollars for retirement."

"Yes? Go on...", he said after a long pause.

"I wish for three million." I panicked. "Dollars! Dollars! Three million dollars!", I corrected, praying the technicality of the goof wouldn't result in receiving three million ping pong balls or something else stupid.

"You said two million."

"Yes, but I didn't wish for two."

"OK, you got me.", the genie laughed. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, please don't say that crap again! Let me explain my wish." If the granting of it was going to lead to trouble, I desperately needed to know. Then I would gladly wish for that candy bar instead.

"I'm listening..."

"There's this homeless veteran in town everybody knows named Bernice. She served during this conflict called the Gulf War. Anyway, I've been driving by her nearly every day for years now, wishing there was something I could do, but never sure what to do. And I believe my wish could really help her." I gulped at the silence. Longest ten seconds I'd ever experienced. "So that's my final wish: I wish for three million dollars."

"Granted!", he thundered.

The moist skin on my jittery arm crackled in anticipation of what would hopefully finally have been a good wish.

"Stand back when you open that hand!", the genie warned.

"OWWW!", I shouted at the top of my lungs. I'm pretty sure a ligament got torn in the explosion. But I'm fine with that. It was an explosion of money. All denominations. Totalling $3,000,000. I don't know how the genie got it all packed so tight it could fit through the portal. I guess that's dimensions for you. But there it was, and it was real.

"Um...Genie?", I asked after the cloudy sea of olive-green and eggshell-white, rectangular confetti had settled to the floor in an ankle-deep pile and I could breathe.

"I'm still here. For the moment."

"Is it okay if I use $48,000 of this to pay off my mortgage?" I was already staring at the floor with my head shaking and eyes closed at my own audacity.

"Why are you asking me? This was your wish; this is your money. But if it's an opinion you want, I'll be glad to give you mine."

If this was going to be a sermon, I certainly deserved it.

"I've been a genie for a long time now. I've granted lots of wishes to lots of lucky people. Most of them have been really bad wishes, and you see the effects they've had on your world even to this day. But you're different. It isn't as easy as it looks making three meaningful wishes, is it? But you took the time to really think things through, and you did very well. So to answer your question: In my opinion, we should all do something for ourselves once in a while. It's part of what helps one be useful to others."

"Thank you.", I stuttered as I began the process of gathering up $2,952,000 to deliver to Miss Bernice and planning a discreet way to go about getting it to her.

"Reach into the portal.", the genie invited.

"But I'm out of wishes.", I protested. It was a handshake. I couldn't physically feel it, but I knew it.

And as the nebulous void vanished, I heard: "Well done, Tiger...I mean Tyler! Now go make a dream come true."