Tony came home to a strange sight, one day: There was a large vat of green grapes in the living room. And Jeannie was in it, stomping barefoot on them!

"Hi, Master!"

"Hi, Jeannie. OK, why are you stomping on grapes?"

"I am making a very special wine for you. It will be the sweetest, most flavorful wine you have ever had!"

"Oh. Why, thank you. Only, wouldn't it be easier just to. . . 'blink it?'"

This appalled her. "Oh, no, Master! The wine needs special care. I can blink the juice into bottles, but to extract the juice correctly, I must do it the old fashioned way."

"I see."

"Master, could you please do this, too?"

"You mean stomp on the grapes with my feet?"

"Yes. It will take less time with two people doing it. Please?"

"Well. . . what about dinner?"

"I will make it after we finish. It will not be much longer."

"OK, Jeannie."

He quickly took his shoes and socks off, then rolled his pants legs up. Then he got into the vat with her.

"Good, Master. Now stomp down hard on the grapes."

"Like this?" He demonstrated.

"Yes, Master. And if you get grape stuff on your pants, do not worry, I will blink it out."

"Oh, thank you. I see there's some on your pants!"

She smiled. "Yes, Master!"

"By the way, where are those grapes from."

"They are from an exclusive grove in Egypt, Master."

"I see. And how long should we do this for?"

She thought a bit. "I have been doing this for a half hour. With you helping, me, I'd say. . . another half hour."

"All right." He put his arms around her. "Shall we dance?"

She smiled and blinked. A record of soft mood music began playing on his record player. They danced in the grapes.

"This is nice."

"Yes, master."

"Perhaps I could give a couple bottles to Dr. Bellows—that is, if you don't mind.""

"Oh, no, Master. That is a good idea."

They continued grape stomping to the record. When the side finished, Jeannie blinked it to the other side.

"All right, Master," she eventually said, "we are done, now."

They climbed out of the vat.

"Our feet have wine gunk on them!"

"Do not worry, Master."

She blinked, and their feet became clean and dry.

"Thank you, Jeannie."

Then she blinked again, and an automated process began. Wine bottles appeared and scooped themselves into the stomped grape juice. Corks appeared and corked themselves into the bottles. Then they formed themselves into a line along one of the living room walls. Eventually only the grape peels were left. She blinked again and the tank disappeared.

"Good. Let's open a bottle."

"No, Master. Like I said, this takes time. They will need at least six months to mature. I'm sorry, Master."

This disappointed him a bit. "Oh, OK." Then he picked up one of the bottles. "How about putting labels on them? We shall call this 'Jeannie Wine.'"

She smiled. "Yes, Master!"

She blinked, and labels appeared on the bottles. As he suggested, they were called Jeannie Wine, and they had a photo of her on them.

"Nice! I can't wait to try it." He put the bottle down. "Now, how about some dinner."

"Yes, Master."

They put their shoes on and went into the kitchen.