Four Wishes

It was just an average day. Arnold White was walking home from work, a newspaper under his arm, his briefcase in his hand, a pleased smirk on his face.

Mr. White was an average man, five foot nine, brown hair, brown eyes, gray suit. He worked as an automobile salesman, and today he had sold ten cares- thus the reason for his happy expression. Mr. White lived a normal life, nothing special about it. But he was content. He had a pretty girlfriend named Betty, a modest but decent apartment, a steady job and sufficeable income.

He walked into the subway, passing a homeless woman who tugged at his pant leg, trying to get his attention.

"Mister, would you be so nice as to buy this lamp from me? It's a magic genie lamp, and it would only cost you a dollar," the woman said in a soft, hoarse voice that Arnold had to strain to hear.

The lamp that the woman held out was old and battered, bent and dented in places, covered in grit and grime. But Arnold could still see that it was a nice-looking lamp, and that a good cleaning would make it as good as new. And it was a good buy, too.

"I'll take it," he said, and pulled a dollar bill out of his pocket. He handed it to the woman, who held the money as if it were worth a million dollars instead of just one.

Arnold held the lamp gingerly, keeping it as far away from his coat as possible. Once he felt comfortable holding it, he made his way down into the subway.

The trip home was an uncomfortable one. He kept trying to keep the grimy lamp distanced from his clothes, but the other passengers kept jostling him and forcing him to pull his arm in closer to his body. He was incredibly grateful when he was finally able to get off the train and walk into the bright afternoon sunlight.

His apartment was not too far from the subway stop, so he was home within minutes. He clumsily managed to open the door to his apartment, and, once inside, he placed the lamp on the table in the middle of the living room. He then took off his coat and fetched the bottle of polish. Seating himself at the table, he began to clean the lamp.

It began to vibrate in his hands, and a puff of smoke came out of the lamp. Then a man materialized in the living room, wearing a very expensive tailored suit, Hermes tie, and shiny shoes. Arnold started a little, dropping the lamp onto the floor and staring at the stranger.

"Who are you? How'd you get in here?" asked Arnold. The newcomer smiled complacently, completely unfazed by Arnold's apparent shock.

"My name is Gene E., but you can call me Gene. I'm the genie of the lamp, so it's actually very easy for me to appear in unexpected places," Gene said coolly. Arnold could only look dumbly from the lamp to the genie. "Anyway, since you rubbed my lamp, you get four wishes.

Arnold was beginning to come back to himself a little.

"I don't believe it," he said. "How do I know you're really a genie?"

"Well, I don't really feel like proving things to you, so if you want you could just use one of your wishes and see what happens."

Arnold glared suspiciously at the genie for a minute, not sure whether he was for real or not.

"Alright then, have it your way. I wish that the phone would ring but that no one would be on the other end of the line."

Gene smirked and waved his hands around in the air. Once he was done, there was a puff of smoke and the phone rang.

"Hello?" Arnold asked, answering. There was no answer, so he hung up.

Gene bowed and Arnold glared, his hurt pride showing on his face.

"That's great," he said. "What else should I wish for, then?"

He thought for a minute and, beginning to get bored, Gene began to cough loudly and tap his foot impatiently.

"All right, all right!" Arnold snapped, then grinned. "I've got it! I wish I had a million dollars!"

Suddenly a huge pile of cash materialized on the floor in front of Arnold. He eagerly flipped through the wads of money, smelling the currency.

The phone rang once again and Arnold glared at Gene, slightly suspicious. But he answered nonetheless, just in case.

"Hello?"

"Yes, this is the Charitable Association, a charity which helps the sick who are too poor to pay their own medical bills. We were wondering if you would like to donate to our fund," the voice of a kindly, elderly woman said.

Arnold opened his mouth, about to offer a sincere apology, but then caught sight of the huge pile of money lying on the floor. He smiled to himself.

"Yes, I would like to donate half a million dollars to your organization. My name is Arnold White, by the way."

The person on the other end of the line was speechless. Their modest organization had never received such a large donation from a single person before.

"Well, thank you very much, Mr. White, the organization is very grateful! Anyway, thank you!" the woman stammered, emotion audible in her voice.

They hung up with promises to call back later.

"Wow, doing great deeds is fun!" Arnold said. He was used to being the one who refused to donate to charity.

"Yes, and with all this money you can do a lot of good in this world," Gene said passively, examining his nails.

The phone rang again, and Arnold eagerly answered.

"My, you certainly are popular," Gene said, and Arnold glared.

"Arnold White."

"Mr. White, this is the Internal Revenue Service. We are auditing you and are taking an extra $499,995 to cover your extra taxes. That is all we wanted to say. You have until next week to pay these taxes or we will repossess your home."

They hung up.

The pile of money had disappeared, all except for one five dollar bill, which lay lonesomely on the carpet, as if yearning for its other friends. Arnold pocketed the bill with a sullen expression on his face.

"I guess money isn't the answer," Arnold muttered. Gene smiled slightly.

"No, I guess not."

"But what else could I possibly wish for? I mean, isn't money the most valuable thing a person could wish for?"

"I wouldn't know," Gene told Arnold in a bland voice. "Because I am a genie and always have everything I want. So I wouldn't know what one would value above all else in the world. And, just so you know, you have two wishes left."

Arnold glared contemptuously.

"Perhaps what I should wish for is power," Arnold mused. "Power would mean that I would be rich, respected, powerful… Yes, and no one would be able to take my money away! Well then, this wish will be very specific. I wish that I was a government leader in the twentieth century, one that can't be removed from office."

"Sure thing, boss," Gene said, laughing. He waved his hands around, and the room started to spin around. Arnold wanted to throw up, but a second later he was standing in a room which was sparsely furnished, except for a desk behind which he was sitting, a Persian rug, a mirror hung on the wall, a handful of chairs, and a window looking out onto the street.

Arnold smiled and leaned back in his chair. Suddenly the door to the room opened, and a man dressed in a Nazi officer's uniform entered, looking scared.

"Herr Hitler, the Allies have taken control of Berlin! They will be arriving here in a few moments! If they find us, they will arrest us and execute us all!"

Hearing himself referred to as Hitler, Arnold frowned, then slowly stood up and walked to the mirror, horrified when he saw his own reflection.

The person in the mirror was Hitler! Arnold White was gone from the face, and he looked like an old man, a hard, evil old man who seemed haunted by the devil. He thought back to when he had been wishing, and realized with horror that the genie had given him exactly what he had asked for. He clutched his throat in anguish, knowing that the war was over and that he had lost, that he would be executed for war crimes- the full realization of what the officer had just said finally began to sink in, and Arnold shuddered.

"What shall we do now, sir?" asked the officer, who was still standing there.

"Go and take off your insignia of office," Arnold said in a resigned, guttural voice. He had not even known that he could speak German. "Destroy them, then, if possible, try to run away without being caught. If you cannot escape, then pretend you are only privates and corporals. You might be able to save your lives."

"Yes, sir."

The officer left and Arnold paced around the room, trying to figure out a way to escape capture. It seemed impossible, since everyone in the world knew Hitler's face and would be able to recognize him. The pistol, which somehow Arnold knew was in the desk drawer, was looking very promising. But he shrank from the thought, for he was afraid of death.

Suddenly an idea dawned on him, and he grinned pleasedly, wondering why he hadn't thought of the idea sooner. After all, if a genie had gotten him into the mess, then surely a genie would be able to get him out of it.

"Gene! Get over here! You still owe me a wish!"

Gene appeared in the room, smiling knowingly, a mocking smirk on his face.

"Tired of power already?" he asked, his smiled growing bigger.

"Don't you dare say anything more! You screwed me, you no-good creep, so you're going to help me now. I wish I was back home and that I was me again!"

A second later Arnold was back in the living room, and everything was as before, except that the genie's lamp had disappeared.

Someone knocked on the door, and Arnold opened it. It was his girlfriend Betty, proudly holding a check in one hand.

"Guess what, sweetie! I won a thousand dollars in a raffle today! Isn't that great? We could use it to buy ourselves a new apartment or something."

Arnold smiled a little, letting Betty in and closing the door behind her.

"Trust me honey, I'm just fine with the way life is for me right now. I wouldn't want to change it one bit."

FIN