Chapter 3: His First Wish
Jafar stood at his desk. It was the last time he planned to visit this lair where he had plotted his future with Iago, performed his magics, and gathered scrolls, spells, artifacts, and information all in preparation for this day.
In the sorcerer's hand was a short red quill. He dipped it in black ink and signed the contract he'd written and rewritten to perfection over the years.
Sliding it over to the anxious genie, Jafar simpered, "Here you are…my wish."
The genie went over the contract with a magnifying glass, bubble pipe, and a fine-toothed comb.
Jafar knew it was searching for a loophole, but the sorcerer was not concerned because he also knew this final version of the contract was nigh immutable.
The genie looked up at him. "Are you really sure you want this? I mean I'm a genie. I could give you so many other things. Think about it."
"I have thought about it. There is nothing I desire more."
The genie bit its lip. "I hate doing this kind of thing you know. It always pisses the gods off."
"I will be the exception," the sorcerer said smoothly.
"That's what they all say," the genie grumbled.
"Unless you have found an error, I see no reason to dither. Have you?" the sorcerer demanded, knowing the answer already.
The genie looked at the contract again but then it sighed. "There aren't any errors. It's as clean as a whistle." The genie transformed into a silver whistle and let out a mournful toot.
"I thought so," the sorcerer said, unmoved by its antics. "Proceed."
"Oh, alright," the genie conceded. "But don't say I didn't warn ya."
The genie pointed at the contract. Lightning shot out of its finger and hit the parchment.
The contract then rose up into the air and began to glow as blue fire consumed it.
Jafar watched the contract burn to ash. In the faint light of the flames, the sorcerer looked positively demonic.