§ § § -- November 28, 1995
The frat brothers were taken to a spacious bungalow that had been carefully cleared of any expensive trappings (unbeknownst, of course, to its occupants). Previous college groups from the United States had brought with them the sort of reputation for destructiveness that forever colored the treatment of future such groups. The furniture in this bungalow was heavy and sturdy, designed to withstand all but the very worst abuses that college kids could deal out. It was here that Peter Gibbons, Cody Banning, Sean Howard and Doug Wilde were dropped off along with their battered suitcases and overstuffed duffel bags. Beds and sleep sofas were claimed and bags dropped atop said furnishings; then the foursome collapsed on the sofas and chairs, legs and feet sprawled out everywhere, finally worn out by the long flights from Florida to California and from California to Hawaii before their charter to Fantasy Island.
"I could sleep for a week," Peter admitted with a sigh, and then sat up in alarm, as if afraid he'd just uttered a wish. However, he remained as awake as ever, and he slowly relaxed while his friends laughed at him. "Hey, it's not that funny," he said. "You never know what kind of statement could make something happen."
"I think we have to actually wish for it," Sean said thoughtfully. "Speaking of which, I'm starving, so here goes. I wish we had four extra-large pizzas with everything on 'em." A split second later, atop the coffee table appeared four steaming pizza boxes, from apparently thin air. He smirked and lifted the lid on the topmost box; sure enough, the pie within was covered with every imaginable topping…including, to Peter's and Cody's disgust, anchovies.
"You moron, now we gotta eat these revolting things?" Cody complained.
Peter shot him an incredulous look and slid the second box out of the stack for himself. "I wish the anchovies and olives were not on my pizza," he said deliberately, giving Sean a significant glare, and then looked down to find that the offending items were gone.
"See, that's all it takes," Sean said, grinning and lifting a slice out of his box. Doug and Cody took the remaining boxes; Cody wished away the anchovies and Doug the mushrooms and vegetables; and the foursome dug in.
"Oh, yeah, one more thing," Doug said after his first bite. "I wish I had another bottle of beer." His friends snickered while he took a long pull on the draft bottle that had obligingly appeared in his hand, but Cody made a similar wish and Peter and Sean followed suit. For awhile the room was silent while the boys concentrated on filling their empty stomachs; then they looked at each other once they'd worked their way through most of their individual pizzas.
"Now what?" Doug asked expectantly, tipping back the last drops of his beer.
"Well, how 'bout the pool?" Cody suggested. "It was in the brochures, and there were some seriously hot babes in the pictures. Once we get there and see some we like, all we have to do is make our wishes, and they're ours."
"I'm too full to move," Sean said. "Do we have to walk?"
"Hell, no," Doug said with a wide grin. "Watch this." He went to the door, flung it open and declaimed to the four winds, "I wish there was a bright-red 1996 model Lamborghini sitting right here in the road in front of me." Instantly the car popped into existence before his very eyes; his friends stampeded to the door and stared at it, eyes huge.
"I hope that didn't vanish off some Italian car dealer's showroom floor," Peter mumbled, getting a collection of elbows in his sides for this observation. "Hey, come on, it had to come from somewhere, didn't it?" he protested. "Before our fantasy's over, we have to wish this thing away."
"Oh, fine, party pooper, but let's just enjoy it for now. It's a guaranteed chick magnet. Even with the wishing ability, it can't hurt to have the car too," Sean reasoned.
"You can wish it away later, Gibbons, since you're so worried about these things," Doug said. "I can't wait to get to those women."
"We could at least put on swim trunks," Peter said, brushing pizza-crust crumbs off his shirt and Sean's. "We're not gonna look very good with pizza all over us."
"Okay, I wish I was wearing my swim trunks right now," Doug said impatiently, and with that there he stood before them, clad in his trunks and nothing more. "Happy?"
"You guys can have the wheels," Cody said lazily. "I got a better idea. I wish there was a brand-spankin'-new Harley-Davidson motorcycle sitting beside the Lamborghini." An instant later, there it was.
"This is the coolest thing ever," yelled Sean jubilantly. "I wish I had my trunks on too." As soon as this had occurred, he added, "Now can we get outta here?"
Within ten minutes, a gleaming red Lamborghini and a shiny black Harley had drawn up to the limited parking area beside the swimming pool, attracting the attention of most of the patrons gathered there. The four friends basked in the limelight, scanning the crowd for girls who particularly interested them, secure in the certainty that their weekend was going to be spectacular. How could it possibly fail?
Dusk was falling before they had had their fill of the extra attention brought on by the car and the motorcycle, and Peter at least had spied a young woman who particularly ignited his interest. It took awhile before his buddies noticed him furtively eyeing her now and then, and they figured out in very short order whom he was gazing at. "Looks like a wallflower," Sean said dismissively.
"She looks nice," Peter retorted. "I just don't think she'd want to be seen around me."
"True," Sean agreed, and Peter glowered at him. "But then again, that doesn't make any difference. Don't forget, you can just wish for her."
"That seems so…well, I mean, it feels like cheating," Peter said uncomfortably.
Cody stared at him impatiently. "What's with you, man? We thought you wanted to do this as much as we did, and now you're going chicken on us? Who died and made you our mother? You want the girl, Gibbons, then for cripes' sake wish for her, and tell your freakin' conscience to butt out!"
"You don't wish for her, you'll probably never get to meet her at all," Doug agreed matter-of-factly. "Not the way you are, Pete."
That remark made Peter decide he'd heard enough, and he peered with deliberate intent across several tables at the shy-looking blonde girl in a light-pink one-piece swimsuit. "I wish that girl would see me and be interested in me," he said aloud, at which his friends gave one another disgusted looks. Doug punched him in the arm.
But the wish worked, and the girl turned and looked straight at Peter, then smiled. Peter grinned back, and at the same time they both stood up and went to meet each other in the midst of the milling vacationers. Doug, Cody and Sean watched curiously; to tell the truth, they had seen too many pretty women to make any choices, so that they were now considerably chagrined by the fact that Peter was the first to actually make contact with a girl. As they watched, Peter and the girl struck up an animated conversation, which made the three of them look at one another.
"Enough of this crap," Cody said at length. "I'm going babe-trolling before that little nerd shows me up." He got up from the table and disappeared. Sean and Doug peered at each other, the one a little tipsy on assorted tropical decoctions, the other still fairly soused from the eight beers he had drunk through the course of the day thus far.
"I don't get why he doesn't just wish," said Sean presently, after a great deal of thought. "Like this. I wish three gorgeous women about 21 years old were standing around my chair, all of them crazy in lust with me."
Doug's mouth dropped open when three flawless young women blinked into existence around Sean's chair and promptly began to run their hands through his hair and over his chest and shoulders. Sean aimed a beatific smile at them all and said lazily, "Ladies, there's more than enough of me to go around, trust me."
"Geeeeeeez," Doug breathed softly, then grinned. "I wish…uh, for the exact same thing Sean just wished for." At which, three girls appeared around his chair and began to fawn all over him. He was so delighted with the attention—not to mention more than a bit fuzzy-headed from all the beer he'd drunk—that he never noticed his three girls looked like the identical twins to Sean's three.
Meantime, Peter had struck up a lively conversation with the girl, Kerry Denberg, and had gained so much confidence from this that he found the courage to ask, "Listen…would you be interested in having Thanksgiving dinner at my bungalow?"
Kerry brightened. "That sounds great! What time should I be there?"
Astonished at her acceptance, Peter almost forgot to follow through, and when she leaned forward quizzically, he finally found his voice. "Oh yeah, right! How 'bout seven?"
"I'll see you then," Kerry said happily. "Thanks, Peter, I'm really looking forward to it!"
"Me too," Peter agreed and watched her vanish into the crowd. He hoped Cody, Sean and Doug were having as much luck as he seemed to be. After some thought, he headed back for the bungalow he was sharing with them; he wanted to clean up and make himself presentable before Kerry arrived. He took a shower, used the bungalow's blow dryer on his hair, and dressed in the best clothing he had with him, which admittedly was no more formal than a pair of jeans without any holes and a brand-new University of Florida sweatshirt. He also went to the trouble of shaving; but when it came to the Thanksgiving dinner he'd promised Kerry, he knew he was in over his head and that there was only one way out. What the heck, he thought, it's our fantasy, after all! He checked his watch, noted that it was five till seven, and took a deep breath. "I wish there was a perfectly cooked Thanksgiving dinner for two waiting on the table," he said aloud, choosing his words carefully.
Two seconds later he caught the whiff of turkey and turned to the raised dining area. Sure enough, the table was laden with plenty of food, two place settings, and a bottle of wine; there were even lit tapers flanking the platter containing the turkey. Peter grinned widely and decided this wishing stuff wasn't all that bad.
Moments later there was a knock on the door and he let Kerry in; the two grinned shyly at each other, and he escorted her to the table. "Wow!" she exclaimed, taking in all the dishes. "This is beautiful! You weren't kidding when you promised Thanksgiving dinner. You must be a fabulous cook!"
"Oh, well…" Peter began, all set to tell her the truth, then hesitating. What good would that do him? Fantasy Island or not, she wasn't too likely to believe him. He might as well let it pass. It couldn't hurt to be thought of as a decent cook, he figured. "Well, how about we dig in? Uh, if you'll pour the wine, I'll carve the turkey."
She agreed, and in another five minutes or so they had filled their plates and were eating with gusto. The wine was excellent and the atmosphere romantic; soon Peter and Kerry both had relaxed and were carrying on an animated conversation. It turned out that Kerry attended the University of Iowa, the state where she had been born and raised, and was very interested in hearing about what it was like to live in Florida. "Well, I'm really from Wisconsin," Peter confessed. "I just didn't feel like going to college in a cold climate, so I picked the University of Florida. All four of us are from different parts of the country actually. Doug's a California boy, Sean's from the New York City area, and Cody hails from San Antonio. We met up in freshman year when we were frat pledges, and we've hung out ever since then."
"It's good to have friends," Kerry offered.
Peter shrugged. "Sometimes these guys get to me," he confided. "I mean, Cody's constantly flirting with the wrong side of the law. It's a wonder he hasn't gotten caught yet. Sean's got at least two little black books, and I swear his goal is to sleep with every girl on campus before we graduate. And Doug…I'm amazed the guy's still on the football team, what with all the drinking and partying he does. I tell you, I wish I had a nickel for every beer Doug's ever drunk since I first met him."
Kerry giggled, and at the same moment Peter felt a sudden weight settle on his feet. Momentarily confused, he peered under the table and was shocked to see his feet buried in a pile of coins. It was then that he went over his last few words and realized what he'd done, and looked back up to find Kerry eyeing him curiously. "You okay?" she asked.
"Oh, sure…" Peter said, improvising madly. "I, uh, thought I dropped something. I guess not. Say…uh, how about some music?"
"That sounds nice," Kerry agreed, smiling.
"So what do you like?" Peter inquired, raising his voice deliberately as he very care-fully began to dislodge his feet from the mound of nickels, talking fast about the bands he was into in the hope of distracting her and perhaps covering up the noise of clinking coins. She listened curiously, looking a little bemused but apparently not too suspicious. Finally his feet were free, and he swung out of the chair and trotted into the main room, still talking. "…and oh yeah, I'm kinda into some of the new British bands…I got a cousin whose dad is stationed over there and he's been sending me CDs." He snapped his mouth shut and stared at her in chagrin. "I never gave you a chance to tell me what you like."
Kerry burst out laughing and followed him into the main room. "That's all right," she said cheerfully. "I think you're a really nice guy, Peter Gibbons, and I'm glad I met you." She reached out and squeezed his hands, and he grinned sheepishly back, hoping only that she would somehow overlook the mountain of nickels under the table.