The teapot was magical. The trouble with magical teapots is that no one ever stops to wonder what kind of magic might be enclosed, waiting to be unleashed. After all, it's just a teapot. Fat, stout, cute and keeps your tea warm. Why would something evil live in a teapot?

This was the case with Jasmine's mother on eBay. She never stopped to think about what she was buying, and whether it contained an evil genie. So when she came across a splendid pink-and-purple teapot going half price, she bought it without a second thought.

And so the teapot arrived. It came in the mail, as teapots sometimes do. Jasmine's mother was pleased with the teapot and placed it on the counter, where it was still sitting when Jasmine came home from school.

At seventeen years of age, Jasmine was a grump and a rebel. She was also very beautiful, but that was beside the point. If you want another beside-the-point fact, she was also a drop-dead lookalike for the Jasmine who had married Aladdin so many years ago.

Anyway, so Jasmine stormed into the house, sending her mother and ten goats running for cover. She was clearly in a bad mood, and no one particularly felt like being stabbed that day. The teapot was almost glowing in Jasmine's angry eyes, and she grinned, thinking it would be a hell of a lot of fun to take outside and smash with her baseball bat (that she kept specifically for that purpose).

Clutching the china handle in her hot palm, she picked the object up and swung it round her hand, chucking it in the air and catching it a few times to test its weight.

Yes… she thought. It's perfect.

Jasmine stomped through the house with a satanic demeanour hanging over her. The teapot hung from one hand and she grasped her bat from the cupboard before she headed for the balcony.

The balcony was secluded and high above the city streets. Sometimes Jasmine would throw bricks over the edge of the railing. She'd never hit anyone, but she had certainly tried. A couple of times, the police had come by, and she had managed to convince them it was the goats, not her. Her seductive antics always swayed them to believe her stories, no matter how fanciful she made them.

"Heh heh heh," Jasmine snickered to herself, lowering her hand and readying her bat to give the teapot a mighty whack.

Her hand let it fly into the air and she swung the bat, hard, all her strength and angst behind the blow. Just as the bat was about to impact, an eerie glow erupted from the teapot and it froze in the air, as did Jasmine's bat. She could no longer move it. She released her hold, and the bat hung in the air on the balcony. Jasmine watched the teapot with disinterest. It began to wriggle, smoke bristling out of the spout. She gave a toothy yawn as a form appeared in the smoke, sliding from the teapot, and materializing into a man in front of her.

Not a good-looking man either, Jasmine noted sourly. He was tall and wiry, with a moustache and small beard. Jasmine glared at him. Then she noticed that her bat was beginning to drop from where it had been frozen. Quickly, she grasped the handle and swung it at the stranger.

"DIE! DIE! DIE!" she yelled, smiling happily at her luck.

To her disappointment, the bat flew straight through the man, and he pressed the fingertips on both of his hands together and gazed at her fondly.

"Look, you creepy, old paedophile," Jasmine said calmly as she could. "Could you just stop being all ghostly and stuff so I can give you a good thumping?"

The man's grin widened.

"Your wish is my command," he said, one of his eyebrows arching up his face.

There was a small cloud of glitter and pink and smoke. Nothing seemed to have changed, so Jasmine swung again. This time, her bat had a good, solid hit. The man fell backwards and Jasmine lunged for his face. Her vision blotted slightly as she really got into the kill.

It was only after he was unable to move on the concrete ground that she realized she was muttering, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, die!" under her breath.

"Hmm," she hummed to herself, prodding the man with the tip of her bat. He didn't move. She wiped the blood off the bat and onto her school dress. "Get up, loser, and tell me why you were in my mum's teapot."

"Ah, Jasmine," he said, resting his head on his hands and staring up at her. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what, idiot?" Jasmine said, her expression transforming into a snarl. She raised the bat again. "Tell me what the hell you're on about, man, or I will kill you, Mr Paedophile."

"I would rather you refrain from calling me that," he said, losing his grin. "I will admit that you do not seem terribly like the Jasmine I once knew in terms of your, uh, personality… But you look exactly like her."

"I don't know who you're talking about, and you're boring me now." She held her weapon aloft once more, threatening him.

"I will grant you two wishes," the man said quickly.

"Two?" Jasmine scowled. "What kind of cheapskate in a teapot offers a beautiful psychopath two wishes?"

"You already used one," he pointed out.

"Di—" Jasmine started.

"Wait ,wait," he raised his hands over his bloody face. "I've changed my mind. You can have three again, as I tricked you with the first one! Silly me! Surely there must be something you want to wish for?"

Jasmine leaned on her bat and thought for a second. She sauntered back into the house and returned with a brick. She casually chucked it over the railing of the balcony.

"I wish that would hit someone," she said.

The man nodded and Jasmine looked down. Yep. There was a mangled corpse lying on the ground, blood running from his head.

"Hmm," she said. "Not bad."

"I'm Jafar, by the way," Jafar said.

"I really don't give a stuff," Jasmine said curtly. "Shut up unless I tell you to speak."

Jafar nodded. He was a real snake of a man in the way he looked. Jasmine felt her temperature rising, the way it always did when she needed to smash something.

"I wish I was rich," she said, grabbing onto one of her goats that was wandering past. Swinging it round by one of its legs, she thought harder.

Jafar shrugged. He wasn't supposed to grant those sorts of wishes, but she wasn't supposed to be an exact Jasmine-lookalike who was insane. There was a golden puff of glitter and he handed her a card.

"There'd better be good money on this," Jasmine said, throwing the goat back into the house. It yowled, which was odd for a goat.

"And your third wish?"

There was a clunk from inside and Jasmine's mother stuck her head out onto the balcony.

"What are you doing? I hope you're not throwing bricks over the—" she paused, taking in the strange, old man on the balcony with her daughter. "Who is this?" she asked.

"Like I have to tell you anything!" Jasmine stormed. "Why don't you get your own life and stop trying to control me? This is JAFAR! And I know he's old and hideous and mangled, but I LOVE him! And YOU can't stop OUR LOVE! HA! We're going away now!"

Jasmine's mother raised her eyebrows and watched as her daughter pulled the rugged man onto his feet and wrapped her arms around him.

"Take me to where you came from!" she demanded. "I wish that I go to a place where you're my slave and I'm all-powerful!"

Jafar didn't point out that this was actually more like three more wishes because a girl was finally touching him. Maybe this was his chance to finally get some!

Jasmine's mother watched the pair vanish into thin air before her eyes. The goats appeared behind her, baaing in interest.

"Thank God she's gone!" she muttered under her breath and pulled the balcony door closed and locked it.

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