CHAPTER TWO
A/N: I took a tale from the Arabian nights and inserted it here in this chapter for some of the characters. I don't own those tales. I am just borrowing them. Also, this story is more dramatic than comical, as you might notice. Anyway, on with the plot!
In a palace in ancient Baghdad, Jeannie sat across from Hadji, materializing the Turkish Kawa coffee he loved so much. As she offered him some sugar, she tried to hold back the tears that threatened.
"What is wrong, my dove?" the Master of All the Genies wanted to know.
Jeannie started crying more now, her hurt at Tony's rejection of her consuming her usually exuberant self.
"Ahh, I know," Hadji guessed, tugging on his beard. "It is that mortal of yours, isn't it?" He materialized some English tea, offering some to Jeannie, but she declined.
"I should forget all about him if I were you," Hadji declared. "If he is dissatisfied with all of the treasures and riches you gave him, then…"
"But I didn't give him treasures and riches," Jeannie protested, sniffling. She conjured up a handkerchief and blew her nose with it. "He didn't want anything," she told Hadji.
Hadji frowned, repeating, "Didn't want anything?" When Jeannie shook her head, the Genie Master said in a disdainful tone, "Then you are well rid of him, in that it is quite obvious that he is a stupid mortal!"
Jeannie shot to her feet, crying in Tony's defense, "He is not! He is the greatest Master I have ever known!"
Hadji looked closely at his favorite pupil. He loved her just as much as her father did, and upon closer inspection, he finally began to see what made her so upset. He had wrongfully concluded that she was upset because she felt she had done poorly for her Master. But if what she said was true, and she really tried to do well for him, but he rejected all that she did…well, her reaction wasn't one of a girl who had made a mistake with her magic; her reaction was more like a lover who had been spurned and was hurting but trying to hide it.
Although he didn't understand why she had fallen for this mortal, he wanted to please her, his favorite dove, the daughter he had never had. To that end, he thought, maybe Jeannie could serve another master, one who would appreciate her talents. She could then forget this human and have a man who respected her.
"Perhaps you could serve another," Hadji said. "Someone right here in Baghdad."
"I could not do that," Jeannie protested.
"But, my turtle dove," Hadji prompted, "you would not want to be feeling sorry for yourself. In that, he would win, wouldn't he?"
Jeannie pondered the Genie Master's words, then she nodded, realizing that he was right. If she wallowed in depression, then she was giving her former Master the upper hand. Whatever else, she would not allow him that satisfaction. She had existed for 2000 years without him, after all; she could exist for another 2000 years without Major Anthony Nelson cluttering up her life. The more she thought about it, the more she told herself she was doing the right thing. It wasn't like he loved her. He never even appreciated the slightest things she did to help him. He was always trying to get rid of her, always putting her thoughts and feelings to the side, and she deserved a master who would at least acknowledge her trying to help. Yes, she decided, she could and would forget him, and she would be happy, starting this moment.
Her mind was decided at least. She prayed that her heart would catch up soon.
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Tony came into work the next morning with circles under his eyes. Roger entered Tony's office almost as soon as Tony walked in. Major Healey swaggered like someone who didn't have a worry in the world.
"Well howdy, best friend!" Roger greeted, then the astronaut did a double take when he saw Tony's face and haggard appearance.
"You don't look so good," the girl chasing astronaut pronounced. "Maybe you should see Doctor Bellows."
Tony rubbed his eyes tiredly, yawning. "A session with Doctor Bellows is the last thing I need," he said. He then studied Roger, who had a "cat that ate the canary" expression.
"What are you so cheerful about?" Tony asked. Roger poured them both a cup of coffee, giving Tony two donuts from a nearby tray instead of one.
"Well, Jacqueline and I made another date, and I can't wait to see her tonight!" He said.
Tony turned over the donuts, muttering, "congratulations…".
Roger put down his coffee and donuts, saying, "have I got good news for you, too, buddy!"
"I'm all ears," Tony said, with about as much confidence as a mouse has facing an angry cat.
"Anne wants to see you again. She was very supportive, and she wants to help you with your problem," Roger said, "so I set up another date for eight tonight!"
Tony stared into space for a moment, saying, "I don't want to go."
"Hey, look, buddy boy," Roger replied with his usual effusiveness, "you have to start getting back on your horse again! I mean, I know you miss Jeannie, but you have to start dating! That's the only thing that will take your mind off of everything!"
Tony regarded his friend for a moment, then he smiled the ghost of a grin as he said, "You're right. You're absolutely right!"
"Besides," Roger continued, "you didn't want to see her again anyway, and she can't get you into any more trouble."
"Yeah, no more thinking up wild stories for Doctor Bellows," Tony told Roger.
"No more weird things in your house, garage, or here," Roger put in.
"No more pressure to get married," Tony said more quietly.
"No more turning girls into things when Jeannie gets in a jealous fit," Roger said, also more quietly.
"No more cooking for me, or cleaning the house, or…did you see the dress Jeannie had on the other day?" Tony asked, a dreamy expression in his eyes. He remembered Jeannie in a spectacular hot pink taffeta gown with glitter, her hourglass curves shown to perfection; her blonde hair shining in the light, and her eyes twinkling. He had been mad at her earlier that day for turning a date of his, Joyce, into a turtle. He had had trouble remembering his anger when she had blinked on the dress, however. Tony forced himself to not think about Jeannie when Roger said something.
"Sorry, Rog…what was that?" Tony asked.
"Snap out of it!" Roger instructed. "I said, 'no, I didn't see it'." Roger's cheerful expression suddenly left his eyes. He hoped Tony could forget Jeannie in time, but he was growing ever doubtful. He laid a hand on Tony's shoulder.
"I'll pick you up at 7:30, okay?" Roger asked, waiting for Tony's consent. Tony nodded absentmindedly; his mind was several million miles away.
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Mahrouf could feel his heart beating frantically as he ran for his life from his pursuers. He could hardly believe the turns his life had taken recently. The former cobbler hid behind a wall, holding his breath, as the guards' footsteps receded. He waited patiently for a few more minutes, then he emerged, praising Allah for his good fortune.
Spying a hooded robe in a basket, he grabbed it and shielded his olive skin and dark eyes carefully. At the tender age of twenty, Mahrouf had finally gotten what he had secretly craved all his life: an adventure. He had lived in the tiny province of Madru, which was a town in the far south. His wife, Fatina, an ugly, foul tempered shrew, had abused him royally, going so far as to take him to court. By the mercy of Allah, he had escaped, and had also upon running as far as he could, met an old friend, Ali, on the way.
Ali had taken Mahrouf to his village on his horse, which thankfully was far away from the cobbler's wife. Ali was a very handsome, charismatic man, yet he had a very practical nature. He was, at age twenty six, tall and broad shouldered, and slightly lighter than Mahrouf. His deep, sepia eyes were expressive, and had melted many a female's heart. His hair was black, like Mahrouf's, but where the cobbler's hair was a little coarser, Ali's was straight and soft. He also had a clean shaven face rather than the traditional beard; he thought the beard made him look too severe, whereas his clean shaven, round face inspired trustworthiness. He had taken his friend immediately under his wing, and had taught Mahrouf the ins and outs of being a sheik: how to trade oxen and camels, how to manage gold and other gems, increasing one's profits by a substantial margin, and so on. Mahrouf had demonstrated the ability to grasp things at lightning speed, and began a new life as an "apprentice shiek" of sorts.
That was before things began to get out of hand. Mahrouf had begun to become greedy and impractical, and had used up most of Ali's finances and had angered most of the creditors. To add insult to injury, the Grand Vizier, Chief Advisor to the Sultan, had begun to suspect that although Ali had told everyone that Mahrouf had studied business affairs across the sea, this was not the real story. The Grand Vizier had taken it upon himself to find out the truth, and had even threatened Mahrouf at sword point. So, upon hearing his friend's story, Ali told him to run away until all of this could be straightened out. Mahrouf ran and ran some more and, having run afoul of some infidels who had stolen his good clothes and left him without the small sack of coins Ali had given him, sank down against a wall in an alley in despair. His knees propped up, he bowed his head between his arms, praying for some kind of deliverance, when he felt something brush his ankle.
He looked down and spied a purple bottle with flowers adorning it. Picking it up, he turned it round and round, looking for some sign of identification as to the owner. Surely someone must have lost it. He saw that it had a stopper in it. Seeing no sign of whose bottle it was, Mahrouf took the stopper out of the bottle, thinking that he could find something inside to indicate who the missing owner was.
His jaw hit the ground suddenly as pink smoke came out. He stood up suddenly, staring in terror as the smoke dissolved, and a beautiful blonde girl in a pink harem costume appeared.
"Hello, Master," she said in an almost musical voice. "How may I serve you?"