Wishful Drinking: Spirits of the Bottle

SAM STAGGERED IN the chilling Autumn wind, anticipating another cruel night. Holding a rolled sleeping bag, he sought refuge behind Anderson's grocery store.

The pungent odor coming from the dumpster assaulted his nose as he squeezed between the wooden slats of the locked gate to the enclosure that surround the dumpster. Walking around the side he unfurled the sleeping bag behind the dumpster and crawled inside.

As the sky darkened, he revisited his recent downfall, feeling betrayed by the world and his wife's anger. His drinking had not helped, leaving him haunted by his daughter's heart-wrenching expression as he left home that fateful night.

Now he found solace in the last golden drops from the fifth of whisky as he thought about the remnants of his life. Before long, exhaustion and intoxication won over, pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Sam was startled awake by the clanging of the dumpster gate unlocking and trash being thrown in. Battling his pounding headache, he stayed still to avoid notice. Gritty-eyed, he rubbed them to clear his vision.

And then, there it was.

Just out of reach under the dumpster, a familiar brown bottle with rounded edges and a blue twist-off cap. Hope flickered as he imagined the possibility of finding some remnants of the soothing elixir that could quell the ache in his heart and head.

With grim determination, he stretched his arm across the frigid, gritty pavement, prompting a frenzied scuttle from a hefty rat that darted over his arm. The tips of his trembling fingers grazed the edge of the bottle as the neck cruelly spun out of reach, compelling him to wedge his shoulder against the unforgiving metal of the dumpster and exert every ounce of strength. At last, the satisfying chill of glass greeted his touch as he triumphantly snatched the prized bottle.

Sitting up he leaned against the sturdy frosty brick wall, held the bottle at arms length and smiled. Bringing it closer, an eager anticipation gripped Sam as he twisted off the cap.

With a resounding crack, an intense burst of energy suddenly knocked his hand back. As if guided by some unseen force, the bottle sailed from his grasp, skittering across the pavement before colliding with the opposite wall.

Sam sat frozen, his eyes wide and hands trembling, his brows knit together in confusion. "What in the world...?" He pinched himself to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

A thick, billowing fog began to pour out from its open mouth, enveloping Sam in a swirling mass of opaque mist. He could feel a chill seeping into his bones as the fog coiled and spiraled around him, obscuring his surroundings.

Just as Sam felt consumed by the mist, a freezing wind dispersed it, revealing a mysterious figure. He appeared to be around sixty years old, with closely cropped, immaculately groomed, grey hair. A dark fedora adorned his head, sporting a striking yellow band. His attire was a dark pin-striped suit accented by a matching yellow tie and a sizable diamond clasp. Gleaming patent leather shoes with white spats adorned his feet.

In one hand, he held a cane with a solid gold handle adorned with diamonds, while the other hand sported several large gemstone rings and gripped a large cigar.

“Hello there.” he said to Sam. Then he took a big drag off the cigar and blew the smoke out.

“Who are you?” Sam's voice quivered, “Where did you come from?”

He tapped the bottle with the tip of his cane. “Well, pal, let's just say I've been waiting around in dat bottle awhile.” Before Sam could react, the man moved closer to him, bending his face to within a foot of Sam's.

“My name is Stefano. I'm a Jinn, a genie, a pooka, a spirit. Call me whateva.” He said and the then stood up puffing his cigar and stepped back to lean against the opposite wall. “Stand up. Let me get a look atcha.” he said.

Sam, not taking his eyes off this “Genie”, shook his head and rubbed his hand through his hair.

The genie flashed a grin that showcased rows of immaculate teeth. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're probably thinking I'm some kinda hallucination from the drink. But lemme tell ya, buddy, I'm as real as they come."

Sam scrambled to his feet, eyeing the genie warily. "What do you want from me?"

Stefano chuckled, a low, melodic sound. "I ain't here for nothin' from you, pal. It's the other way around. You let me outta that cramped bottle, so now I gotta grant you three wishes. But listen closely, kid. Every wish you make comes with a price, and if you ain't careful, you might just find yourself stuck in that bottle forever. Be careful what you wish for. Capice?`"

A chill raced down Sam's spine at the genie's words, the warning hanging heavy in the air. He hesitated, wrestling with the allure of having his deepest desires granted and the ominous consequences that loomed ahead.

Stefano's eyes gleamed with mischief, "So, what'll it be, pal? You gonna play the game or tuck tail and run?"

“Three wishes? Seriously? Like from my kids cartoons?” Sam scoffed, still not quite buying into the genie spiel.

“Yes, three wishes,” Stefano replied casually, his tone laced with a hint of exasperation. “But first, we have to do something about your appearance, and dat smell.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste before taking swift action, bringing down his cane on Sam's shoe with a sharp rap.

“OW!” Sam winced, his eyes squeezed shut as he yelped in pain. When he dared to open them again, he was met with the unexpected sight of a lush park, the shade of a grand oak tree enveloping them. Sam stood transformed, clad in fresh clothes and gleaming shoes, his scruffiness replaced by a clean-shaven face redolent of lavender.

“That one’s on me,” Stefano drawled, his words dripping with sarcasm. “There was no way I was going to be seen with the likes of you.” He emphasized his point by gesturing dismissively with the butt end of his cigar in Sam's direction. "Alright, listen up, see. I’m about to drop some serious knowledge on you, pal," Stefano began, his brash, voice slicing through the quiet of the night. " Three wishes, that’s what I’m offering ya. But, there’s rules to this game, see? No monkey business once the wishes are granted."

Sam’s brow furrowed as he hesitated, the alcohol clouding his judgment but also kindling a spark of curiosity. As they finally reached a park bench and settled down, Stefano prepared to lay down the rules of the wishes when Sam suddenly interjected, "Hold up, Stefano. Before we get all serious, how ‘bout we start with something simple, eh? If you're real How ‘bout you whip up a ham sandwich and a cold beer for me? Now that would be real swell."

Stefano's eyebrows shot up to the brim of his hat in surprise before a grin spread across his face. "Ah, I see ya playin' it smooth, huh? A test. Very well, some good ol’ comfort food and a brewsky, I respect that. Consider it done, my man."

Like a cobra he stuck the side of Sam's leg with the cane eliciting a yelp out of Sam but before he could respond a mouthwatering ham sandwich materialized in Sam’s hands, the aroma of freshly baked bread and savory meat wafting through the air. Beside it, a frosty beer appeared, condensation glistening on the bottle. Sam’s eyes widened in disbelief, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out to grab the sandwich and take a long swig of the cold brew.

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” Sam exclaimed, his speech momentarily clear as he savored the first bite of the sandwich. “I’ll give ya this, Stefano. You sure know how to impress a fella. Maybe there’s more to this genie business than I thought.”

Stefano chuckled, nodding sagely. “Ya see, pal? Nothin’ but top-notch service from yours truly. Remember though, this is just the tip of the iceberg. The real magic’s just gettin’ started, see?” The stub of the cigar held in his teeth disappeared in a small flash of light. “but remember, if you wish for material t'ings someone has to pay. For instance, say you wish for a million smackers. Well, some poor bank manager is gonna lose their job, see? Da vault might come up a little short. Ya get me?”

Sam peered into Stefano's eyes and glimpsed a flicker of darkness that sent a shiver down his spine. As his thoughts raced, he wondered if this eerie presence was the key to righting the wrongs in his life.

"Alright, alright, I see where you're going with this. Maybe I wish for a million bucks, but an armored car drops on my head and crushes me at the same time, right?" Sam leaned back, a smug grin tugging at his lips. "And what's in it for you, huh? You must be gaining something too."

Stefano's expression remained impassive, resembling more a lifeless statue than a being with emotions. "Indeed, my friend. What I receive is freedom – liberation from the confines of a minuscule prison crafted by man, a curse imposed upon me eons ago."

Sam closed his eyes and gulped down his beer.

“Time's a-tickin', pal. Vegas is waitin'.” Stefano quipped.

Sam opened his eyes, inspecting his clean clothes. His hands caressed his smooth face. “Sleeping rough isn't a picnic. I wish I could get back my old job and rent that empty apartment above Anderson's drugstore. The empty one.”

Stefano rapped him on the shin with his cane, stating bluntly, “Consider it done. You're back on the clock tomorrow like nothin' ever went sideways. Oh, check your right pocket.”

As Sam massaged his sore shin, he fished into his coat pocket and discovered a set of keys. Retrieving them, he eyed the round tag labeled 2A.

The ringing of a bell from a bike drew Sam's attention to the playground. There he saw all the boys and girls frolicking over the playground equipment. Giggles carried on the warm Sunday morning breeze.

Sam's eyes darkened with regret as he thought about the days he wasted drowning in alcohol when he could have been here, sharing these joyful moments with his daughter.

Maybe, just maybe, he needed to confront the deep-rooted pain and sense of failure that drove him to numb himself with each sip. He brought the cool glass bottle to his lips and drained what was left of the beer, the bitter taste a stark reminder of the self-destructive cycle he found himself trapped in.

“Well I better go check out my new apartment.” Sam said as he stood up.

Sam sauntered down the cement path, his thoughts swirling like cigarette smoke on a windy day. The bustling city streets of Bentonville surrounded them on that crisp Sunday morning. Stefano caught the glances Sam shot his way and let out a chuckle that could've come straight out of a black-and-white gangster movie. "They ain't layin' eyes on me, kid," he drawled. Sam inferred that he must be invisible.

As they navigated the bustling streets, they finally arrived at the bustling intersection of Main and Chestnut. Anderson's drugstore stood proudly on the opposite corner, its welcoming doors wide open. Inside, Sam observed families gathered at the ice cream fountain, where children eagerly devoured chocolate-covered treats while parents watched with radiant smiles.

A little girl clutched her dog's leash tightly, her hand firmly held by her mother as they stopped at the street corner next to Sam, waiting for the "walk" signal. The passing cars startled the dog, causing it to twist and leap in a frenzy, eventually breaking free from the little girl's grip. The dog sprinted into the busy street.

The little girl dashed after her beloved pet. Sam, his paternal instincts surging, reached out to grab her shoulder, but his trembling hand failed to keep her from slipping away.

Before anyone could react, tires screeched violently, followed by a sickening thud as the dog and little girl vanished beneath the car as it came to a stop in the crosswalk. The mother's piercing scream of "LAURA!" echoed through the air as she rushed towards the vehicle. Sam's heart pounded furiously in his chest as he followed suit.

A wave of relief washed over him as he watched the mother scoop up Laura, clutching her tightly and weeping with overwhelming emotion. Tears streamed down Laura's face as she buried her head in her mother's shoulder, her gaze fixed on her lifeless dog lying on the asphalt.

Amidst her heart-wrenching sobs, she whimpered, "Peanut...ohhh, Peanut."

Sam knelt down to inspect the dog. There were no visible wounds on the outside but Peanuts eyes were rolled back in his head. His breathing shallow and slowing.

Sam felt a surge of agony as a sharply dressed man exploded towards the woman, the little girl's piercing shriek of "OH DADDY" tearing through the air like a dagger. Tears welled up in Sam's eyes as he watched the father snatch his daughter up in a fierce embrace, the little girl's heart-wrenching wails echoing in his ears. Unable to tear his gaze away, Sam's own past failures bore down on him with the weight of a merciless avalanche, suffocating him with regret and despair.

Sam's mind raced to Becky, his wife Kathy, and all the shattered pieces of his past. How could he have been so blind, so utterly consumed by his own demons? The stark realization slapped him in the face: It was all his own actions that had led to his catastrophic downfall.

Sam looked around for Stefano and saw him leaning against the brick wall, casually glancing at his watch as if time had no hold over him. Stefano straightened up as Sam lunged towards him. Before Sam could speak, Stefano cut him off with a sly grin, "Listen Pal. That's just a dog. Dogs die every day. Why not wish for something more enjoyable, like a shiny new ride or one million one-dollar bills. No one gets fired over a missing dollar bill. No need to worry yourself over a mutt."

The wailing of the little girl steeled Sam's resolve. Sam clenched his fists, his jaw set in determination as he locked eyes with Stefano, his voice trembling but resolute. . "I wish that never happened. I wish the dog was unharmed. I wish the tragic scene never unfolded!" Sam's voice rang out with a newfound courage.

Stefano's face grew dark, his skin turning as red as strawberries, with actual fire behind the narrow pupils of his eyes. His voice deepened with intensity, exclaiming, "I can't believe you just did that." Stefano looked up at the sky, fury evident in his glare, "Rule 27. Damnable rule 27!" he spat the words.

Then, he struck Sam in the arm with the cane. As Sam winced in pain and rubbed his arm, he understood the gesture from Stefano's previous actions.

The sudden silence around him jolted Sam into action. No crying from the little girl. No murmuring of people. Sam turned to peer into the crowd and there, to his astonishment, stood the little girl and her dog, unharmed this time. The trio crossed the street without incident.

"There, ya satisfied smuck? Ya coulda wished for anything. Anything but no, you had to wish for that damn dog. Rule 27," Stefano ranted, his expression fierce as he continued, "If the party of the first part, that's you, uses a wish for a selfless act, then said party of the first part gets his heart's desire." Stefano's hand rested heavily on Sam's shoulder. "Looks like it's back to the bottle for me, and for you..."

Before Sam could respond, a searing pain consumed him as Stefano brought the cane down on top of Sam's head. Darkness enveloped him, and he was lost within its depths.

Sam's eyes fluttered open to the familiar sound of a TV blaring the date: "That's the way it is, Sunday, July 31st, 1960." Surprisingly, he found himself not lying on the cold, unforgiving sidewalk but on a soft, welcoming surface.

"July of last year?" Sam muttered, a hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. As if summoned by his newfound realization, Becky, his daughter, pranced into the room, her eyes alight with anticipation to finally build the dollhouse they had promised to set up together.

"I'm here... I'm really back," Sam whispered in awe, memories of his rocky past flashing before his eyes. The dull ache on his head served as a stark reminder that this was no hallucination.

Sam sat up abruptly, pulling Becky into a tight embrace, feeling overwhelming emotions welling up in his chest. Tenderly placing her back on the ground, he brushed a kiss against her rosy cheek before rising to his feet. The creak of the butler's door swinging open drew Sam's gaze, and he met Kathy's curious eyes peering through the doorway.

"Lunch will be ready shortly. Then, off to the park with Becky,” Kathy announced cheerfully.

Sam’s heart swelled with a newfound sense of purpose. “Not without me,” he responded softly, eyes filled with determination.

Kathy's expression shifted in surprise. “That's a change,” she remarked before disappearing behind the door once more.

"Things are going to be different," Sam murmured to himself as he settled on the floor, immersing himself in the world of make-believe with Becky.