Another chapter is ready for your viewing pleasure. In case you haven't noticed, Norm's starting to warm up to Amanda. Unfortunately, it is nearly impossible for him to admit that he might actually like her, even to himself.
In case you haven't noticed between this and my other works, I like creating friendship stories. Especially if it involves kids and/or unusual friendships. I've always felt that strong relationships don't have to be romantic in nature and any type of relationship worth having (love, friendship, family, etc.) is worth the hard work to craft in fiction. I try to represent that in my works. It may take time to get the concept through to the cynical genie, but I know I can make it work.
Remember, my opinions and Norm's opinions are two different things. Just because he says something doesn't mean that I necessarily agree with it.
I hope you're enjoying this so far. Wish me luck.
He may be learning more about Amanda, but he still didn't know what to think about her. Or rather, he didn't know what to think about his reactions and behavior in regards to her. Norm understood that she was interesting, unusual, and possessed a rather depressing life, but the genie couldn't figure out (or completely admit) why those facts mattered enough to keep his attention. His previous boredom was easily kept at bay if he regularly interacted with the child. It wasn't necessary every day but adding even a short visit every couple of days kept him entertained. Even stranger, Norm was enjoying spending time around her. He liked talking with the straightforward, odd child. She made a nice hobby, even if he didn't know why he wanted such a hobby.
Not all of their conversations were inquires concerning her life in an attempt to understand his latest master. Sometimes they discussed the stories he'd been loaning her. Amanda would sit on her bed with her stuffed animal and the lava lamp resting in her lap, asking about why certain humans wished for certain things in the book. When the kid got past some of her mouse-like, wallflower, withdrawn tendencies, she could actually be fairly inquisitive and she certainly made a good audience. Eventually, after they got finished with the book, Norm found himself sharing a few tales of his own. He avoided certain events with his stories; he highly doubted she'd enjoy hearing about the unpleasant fates suffered by his past masters or his attempts at revenge against Turner. She was too nice for that. And he certainly did not want to describe how some of his dates ended up going to a child. But he could describe other events and the kid would listen eagerly. Amanda would react at all the right points with gasps of shock, chuckles of amusement, or soft comments of admiration. Half the fun of relating the various exploits (embellished properly when necessary) to the kid was observing the girl's reactions.
Sometimes he didn't actually meet Amanda in her room. Norm would occasionally just watch the child at a distance rather than directly interacting with her. Sort of like bird-watching or how those guys in nature documentaries would observe zebras getting eaten by lions. Outside of his company, she was just as withdrawn and quiet as the turtleneck-enshrouded kid who first rubbed the lava lamp. Amanda seemed to excel at fading into the background. It seemed to have the positive effect of keeping the bullies from noticing her as much, but it also meant that she never stood up for herself in any situation. This seemed particularly concerning when he watched her parents ignore her existence while the girl did her best to remain out of their way. Teleporting both adults to Mars seemed like such a promising idea, but Norm didn't want to deal with Amanda feeling guilty about her parents' fate, even if they deserved it.
Overall, the girl made a nice distraction t his life. He was enjoying his time being practically free with the occasional break to indulge in his new hobby. She was entertaining and intriguing, but the girl was nothing more than a rather interesting pastime. That was all she was when it came down to it, however. Norm didn't really care about Amanda beyond that of a pleasant hobby or perhaps that of a particularly amusing pet.
She was starting to get used to having him around. Every few days, the genie would show up for a little while. It might only be for a few minutes or he might stay around to discuss the latest story from the book he'd loaned her or to relate one of his own. Regardless of the length of time involved, Amanda savored every instant. Unlike every other minute of the day, she truly felt… well, she felt like how she used to feel when Grandma was still around. She felt like someone was spending time with her because they wanted to rather than because they had no choice and had to put up with such an aggravation. It was kind of nice.
Sometimes at night, like now, she would hug Teddy close and stare at the purple lava lamp, wondering why Norm chose to keep visiting. He rarely tried to convince her to make a wish since he fixed the stuffed animal, so he'd apparently given up on that. Did that mean he kept coming back because… he liked her a little?
She didn't know why he would. Amanda knew that she wasn't the type of person who other people liked. She was a waste of time, money, and energy to deal with. No one had any reason to like her or even notice her. Some people were just not meant to be anything more than a distracting annoyance in the background and she was such a person. She was simply not anyone special enough to have friends of any kind.
Friends. Was this what having a friend was like, having someone around that made you feel wanted? Was Norm her friend? She had done nothing to deserve such a luxury, but a part of her hoped that the genie might qualify. It would be nice to have a friend. It was what she wanted more than anything, even if she knew how unlike it seemed.
Amanda pulled the blanket tighter around her and closed her eyes. Maybe, even if Norm didn't want to be her friend, she could be his friend. She certainly liked him and she enjoyed spending time with him. She didn't deserve the genie's friendship, but she was willing to offer such a thing to him.
Satisfied with her decision concerning Norm, the girl smiled slightly and relaxed. She could already feel herself drifting off to sleep.
Very few pizzeria were able to deliver to any location, regardless of how remote, isolated, or strange. There were even fewer that were happy about delivering to genies, though anti-fairies supposedly had even more trouble with that. Narrowing the list down further to take into account problems such as late deliveries, soggy and cold pizza, getting the order wrong, or employees deciding to be spiteful by leaving the box outside the lamp when Norm was stuck between masters, and he was left with only one real option.
Papa Jingles' Pizza was a brownie-owned franchise that were willing to deliver to anyone who wasn't completely and undeniably evil. They'd even deliver to a few of the less malicious anti-fairies. Norm had to admit the butterfly-winged beings were at least less critical and annoying than fairies, which meant he liked brownies a little more than the wand-waving morons. And brownies made really good pizza.
Today, after spending the day in Canada turning the maple leaf on their flag into a child's drawing of a turkey and seeing how long it would take the Canadians to notice, Norm picked up one of their pizzas. However, he'd altered his usual order this time. The genie currently held an extra large pizza with pepperoni on one half and plain cheese on the other. It had been a spur of the moment decision, a mere whim of his that he'd decided to indulge in.
Norm gonged into Amanda's room, the delicious smell of food announcing his presence to the child as effectively as the sound. She'd been playing with her old stuffed teddy bear, but she swiftly slid off her bed and walked over to him.
"Hi, Norm," greeted the girl, looking at the box curiously. "Did you bring pizza?"
"No, I ordered a bucket of fried chicken. Extra flat," he answered dryly. "Of course it's a pizza. I was hungry, so I figured I'd multitask by bringing it with me." Then, almost as if he'd just had the idea at that moment, the genie offered, "You want a slice, kid? There's too much for just me."
Amanda looked stunned and ecstatic by his suggestion, taking several seconds to even manage a nod. Norm gonged up a couple of plates and left the pizza box floating at a convenient height. He didn't want the kid to start getting the wrong idea and think this sort of thing would become a regular occurrence, yet he thought it would be a nice way to enjoy his food without having to wait until after the visit and it would be rude not to share. He'd even shared pizza with Turner when he teleported Crocker to Mars and he hated the bucked-toothed kid.
The girl, hesitating as she glanced at the two toppings, finally selected a piece of cheese pizza and began eating it enthusiastically. Norm didn't know if she was simply happy to have a meal she didn't have to cook or if she just really liked the pizza. Papa Jingles had good food, but Amanda looked way too excited.
"I'm guessing you might like pizza a little," he remarked, taking a bite of his own slice.
She nodded, "It's really good. Where'd you get it? I don't remember ever seeing the name 'Papa Jingles' before. Is it new?"
"It's just a little brownie-run pizzeria I know of," he explained. "They make pretty good food."
"'Brownie'? Like the food?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.
"No, not the food. Little guys with butterfly wings. Make great pizza. They also make terrific house-cleaning services," described Norm. After a moment, he asked, "What? Did you think that genie were the only magical beings running around?"
Amanda shrugged, "I don't know. I never thought about it."
"Well, we're not. Humans are nowhere near the only supposedly intelligent species in the cosmos and genies are nowhere near the only magic users out there," he explained. "Even if we're the best at it."
Her attention thoroughly captured, the girl stared at him eagerly. He recognized the expression by this point. She was wearing her "story-listening" look. She was ready to hear about the various magical entities, excited to learn anything he might offer about this topic.
"All right," he sighed, realizing he was about to give her a full description of the magical creatures he could provide.
His knowledge wasn't perfect about some species due to how little contact he'd had with them, but he could give the child the basics. His experiences at Fairy Idol were giving him at least a little bit of knowledge of the creatures.
"Let's see. I've already mentioned brownies and you know about genies obviously… There are pixies, which are these weird, monotone, emotionless, corporate drones with pointy heads, small square wings, and oddly-effective rapping skills. Lawn gnomes also have pointy heads, can rap, and dress like tacky ceramic ornaments. And they hate being called pixies. And they don't have wings. Elves have pointy ears, have an obsession with cookies, and either bake treats in a tree or make toys while working for a fat guy who only works one night a year." He counted off each example on his fingers as he proceeded. "You have the leprechauns, who have the whole pot of gold and way too much green thing going for them. Then you have wand-waving, kid-loving, shape-shifting, wish-granting fairies and their bad-luck-inducing, evil counterparts, the anti-fairies. There's even the occasional witch or warlock that pops up, but those aren't really a magical species. They're just extraordinarily freaky humans who tend to either destroy themselves either by using magic stupidly, getting enough normal people mad enough to hunt them down, or simply get crushed by falling houses or melted or stuck somewhere."
Amanda's eyes widened with each named creature. The girl even seemed to forget about the slice of pizza in her hand. When he listed them off like this, it did sound rather impressive how many magical species there were.
As he paused, trying to recall some of the more obscure ones, she interrupted, "'Fairies'? You said… they grant wishes. Like you do?"
Norm rolled his eyes, "No. I am nothing like those idiots. They're lucky to get through the day without doing something stupid with their magic."
"Okay," the girl remarked slowly, taking bite of her pizza. Then, she continued, "How else are genies and fairies different? Especially if they both grant wishes."
"Well, the first real difference is their ideas on fashion. Floating crowns can't compare to a fez. And fairies have those wings attached to their back," he grumbled, recalling Jorgen and his stapler. "They live in a place with the original and clever name of Fairy World, which seems to be composed of clouds, rainbows, and sickeningly cheerful colors." He shook his head, "It is kind of like a five year old girl designed the place. But the biggest difference would be their standard operating procedure."
Snapping up his fingers, Norm gonged up the copy of "Da Rules" he'd gained from the green-haired idiot. The book had been sitting on a shelf in his lamp for a while, even after the events surrounding Fairy Idol. It would be ideal for demonstrating his point.
"As I've already explained to you, genies grant three rule-free wishes to whoever rubs the lamp," he reminded. "Fairies don't have a limit on the number of wishes, don't have a lamp, and don't have a clue about how to enjoy such a thing. The real job that the annoying wand-wavers seem to want is to be a fairy godparent for some human kid."
"A fairy godparent?" Amanda inquired. "Are they kind of like… an extra parent with magic."
"Yep," he nodded. "And they only grant wishes for their godchild, who is picked because they're the most miserable kid on the planet and they need one of those floating magical morons to be around to keep him happy. As long as it follows any of the many rules in here," he waved the book to demonstrate, "they can grant the child's wish. But the rules for them make it rather pointless."
He began flipping through the pages, glancing at the various limitations the book described. Amusingly, there were footnotes at the bottom that identified the cause of specific rules to be put in place. Most readers probably ignored or didn't even notice, but some of the explanations were worth a chuckle. Most were rather old and had been devised very early in the history of fairy godparents. The more recent additions tended to be attributed simply to be caused by "Timothy T. Turner." That didn't surprise the genie in the slightest after skimming through the boy's file. The bucked-tooth menace just couldn't avoid stupid and impulsive wishes.
"Stuff you can't wish for with fairies includes just about anything someone normally would ask for. The godchild can't wish to directly kill, maim, or injure living things, though indirectly works fine. They can't use magic to win a contest, wish for money through counterfeiting or stealing, or to wish for breakfast after 10:30 a.m.," he listed, raising an eyebrow at the inanity last one. "No messing with love; that's Cupid's job. Teeth-related wishes go through the Toothfairy and sleep-related wishes need to be approved by the Sandman." He flipped back a couple of pages, continuing to recite, "No wishing everyday to be Christmas. No wishing for a world without girls. No wishing someone back to life. I guess they had too many problems with zombies." He flipped a couple of pages, shaking his head at some of the odder ones, "Vocal wishes must be made in the voice of the god-kid. Cloning wishes can only be canceled when all clones are present. A god-kid can only loan their fairy godparent to a child who is twice as miserable as them. A godchild can't wish away another kid's fairy, but there are ways to get rid of them through a duel."
"They can be separated? The fairy and god-kid?" Amanda asked, sounding both overwhelmed by the variety of rules and startled by the implications of the last one.
The genie gave a short laugh, "That's kind of an understatement, kiddo. Part of the reason it's a good thing that fairies do so much shape-shifting is because the whole 'fairy godparent' thing is supposed to be one big secret. And breaking them up in a painful manner seems to be the entire point of the arrangement. The entire situation is designed to be the cruelest trick ever. They take this miserable kid with a really crummy life, maybe with some bullying or absent parents to make certain he's practically alone. Then, they give him an annoyingly-cheerful magical being whose entire purpose is to be a floating provider of wishes and semi-parental affection to fill in the void in the kid's life. On the surface, it sounds like a way to spread happiness and joy to the world, causing nauseatingly cute displays of family-like affection between the kid and fairy. What could be better for some bitter and depressed child than magical wishes to improve their life and some airhead to act like a best friend or nagging mother or goofy dad or whatever? But they've made it impossible to maintain such a stupidly optimistic state due to the fact that the entire relationship will end with a giant reset button."
Norm laughed at the irony. Even if fairies were supposed to be these nurturing and fun companions for humanity's depressed youth and genies were infamous for the damage their wishes could cause, it seemed like the wand-wavers could cause much worse pain at the end of the day. Humans tended to be happy when Norm and them parted ways; the fairies and godchildren were almost always sad by the separation. At least, that's how things went until memories were erased. He flipped back several pages to the relevant rules.
"The kids can't tell anyone they have fairy godparents. Ever. Another child with fairies can find out without anything bad happening, but the consequences are fairly steep otherwise," he elaborated. "If, at any point, the kid tells someone or reveals their fairy's existence to another human being, the fairy is taken away. Even if another human finds out by accident and it isn't the kid or the fairy's fault, that's what happens. In fact, any sign of the fairy godparent is removed. The kid loses any of his wishes and then the kid and any bystanders lose even the memories. Really, the child is left in exactly the same miserable state they were in before without even being allowed remember his past happiness or the substitute parent-figure. If the child gets too happy with his life, he also gets this fate. And, even if the kid manages to keep his fairy a secret for years and not lose them due to any number of possible ways, they'll eventually grow up. After they're grown up, the wishes are undone and the memories are taken from them. No matter what happens, the godchild ends up alone, unable to remember his fairy, and only able to recall non-magical aspects of his childhood. Which means, considering they are supposed to be miserable in order to receive a fairy godparent, they will mostly have depressing memories. Basically, the entire set-up is one cruel joke."
As he finished the slight rant, Norm realized that he might have been a little blunt considering his audience was a young child who could have (and should have) been one of those kids who receive fairy godparents. He was probably even exaggerating things a little bit. But it was so annoying to have morons like Jorgen referring to him as a "filthy genie" and acting as if they were so much better and more benevolent when they could end up causing just as much pain. At least he didn't behave as if he was trying to help anyone else with his actions. He even flat out told most masters after the first wish backfired that he planned to do the same thing for the rest of their requests. He never claimed to be a nice guy; he even had an evil laugh he'd been working on over the millennia. But the fairies, who seemed to think they were so perfect compared to other magical species, could be equally as cruel without meaning to or even admitting it and that obliviousness to obvious facts just aggravated the genie.
After several moments of silence, Amanda quietly commented, "That… doesn't seem fair. I mean… they can take away their fairy godparent and make them forget? Even if they accidentally tell their secret or they grow up?"
"Or if some random person saw their fairy and figured out they're the kid's godparent," he reminded. "But, as shocking as it might be to learn this, the world isn't fair. In fact, it is the opposite of fair."
"So if I accidentally saw someone's fairy godparent, they'd be separated and it would be completely my fault," she stated horrified. "I don't want to do that. I don't want to make someone miserable, Norm."
He shrugged, "Maybe you'll get lucky and never bump into a kid with fairies. What is the likelihood that you'll meet someone like that? Of course, you won't know they have fairy godparents until it's too late and you completely ruin their life, but that's not your fault. Being able to keep a secret, no matter the circumstances, is one of the main skill requirements to be a god-kid and if they can't manage it, then it is better to lose their fairy because of you than because of a crazy fairy-hunting teacher."
"But I don't want to do that to someone," the brunette child remarked. "I can't hurt someone like that, even by accident. I'm already an unwanted nuisance and more trouble than I'm worth, but I don't want to also take away someone's friend or family."
He really wished she'd stop repeating stuff her parents told her. If he had to listen to those two idiots continue to fill her head with comments about how little they wanted her or how little she mattered, he intended to turn the adults into a couple of snow globes. The kid was too unselfish and had zero self-esteem, but she wouldn't even be miserable enough for some reason to qualify for the admittedly-limited help of a fairy godparent.
"I can't let that happen, even if there's only a small chance that it could," declared Amanda firmly. She set down her plate, the pizza slice completely eaten by this point, and walked over to the nightstand. "I wouldn't want someone make you go away forever like that. Especially if I couldn't even get to remember. It just isn't right. Other people deserve to be happy and to have friends without someone like me messing everything up." The child picked up the purple lave lamp and closed her eyes, "Norm, I wish that any godchild and any fairy godparent I ever meet will not be separated because of me learning their secret in the same manner that they won't get in trouble if another godchild figured it out. Please?"
Norm barely kept his jaw from dropping. He ran a quick calculation through his head. It had taken just a little less than two and a half months for Amanda to make her first wish. He'd almost given up any hope that she would ask. But the girl finally made a wish and any genie would pounce on the opportunity to start twisting the wish.
There were, however, two factors that made him hesitate on that normal reaction to wishing. First was how specific her request was. Vague wishes were easier to mess up, but any decent genie could figure out a way to deal with wishes made by anyone below a lawyer in competence. If he really tried, he could find a loophole. But it would be a lot more work than he preferred.
The second factor was the fact that he didn't really feel like doing something like that to the kid. It took her this long to actually make a wish and she didn't even ask for anything for herself. She wanted to protect others from being miserable because of her. The same stupid emotions (that he refused to identify) that he first felt when he began to learn about her parent's opinion of their child and when it became clear that she honestly enjoyed his company refused to let him examine the request for a loophole. That collection of rebellious, squirmy feelings only got more difficult with the comment about not wanting him to go away forever. Given that the alternative was dealing with a mutiny of emotions and twisting a wish that he couldn't seem to be motivated to ruin, Norm felt it was easier to take the simpler way out and grant it.
Briefly, the idea that he could have used Amanda to make Turner lose his godparents by "accidentally" allowing her to see them if she hadn't made this wish crossed his mind. He immediately rejected it. For similar reason to why he wouldn't mess up the girl's wish, he couldn't involve her in his revenge. It was a personal matter between him and the bucked-tooth boy. He wouldn't be happy if she became tangled in things and found out he used her in a revenge-plot, so he would avoid that idea completely.
"One wish," he commented finally, "coming right up."
He snapped his fingers.
Well, she's made her first wish. And I doubt that Norm ever expected that to be her first request. But that's what he gets for telling her too many stories. She starts having empathy for everyone and doesn't want to make anyone unhappy, even by accident.
I looked up some of the rules they've mentioned at various points on the show, but I didn't list all of them. But I included some of them. And "Papa Jingles" pizza is my magical version of "Papa Johns" pizza. After all, who else would deliver pizza to a genie's lava lamp? And. if you've watched some of the new episodes of the show, there was this triangular little butterfly-winged girl at Poof's school and they never identify her species. She can't be a fairy since Poof is the only one born in about 10,000 years. So, I decided to declare she's a brownie. They're another little magical people who are famous for cleaning houses at night if someone leaves them out a gift, like bread and honey. And now, apparently, they make pizza (at least in this story, they do).
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