A stubble-faced bum in a zoot suit happens upon a magic genie bottle

Submitted by Samuel Vargo
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Sunday, 13 October 2013

- as he's walking along the boardwalk at the break of dawn. A genie pops out of the bottle and the bum's shocked, thinking that he's actually seeing things.

"Your wish is my command," the genie says.

"Really?" the bum answers.

"Yes, Master, you have two wishes that I must fulfill. I am your genie. For two wishes worth, anyhow."

The bum puts his hands to the week-long growth of whiskers on his chin and contemplates this issue a bit.

"You know, I haven't had a drink all morning and I'd really like a fifth of really good stuff. So give me a bottle of Chivas Regal Blended Scotch Whiskey. That's my favorite, next to Cutty Sark. I haven't been able to drink such great whiskeys for years. Been down on my luck. Been drinking rubbing alcohol, aftershave, and once in a while, even household cleaners and power-washing fluid for car windshields."

The genie looks at the guy kind of puzzled. He was expecting this man to ask for $35 million; or a yacht; or a beautiful woman; or a Maserati, Ferrari, Alfa Romeo, Aston Martin, Bentley, or Rolls Royce.

The least he can do is wish for a couple shark-skinned suits. Those colors are clashing so badly he's giving me a headache. A purple jacket, a pink polo shirt, red and black checkered trousers. And is that wretched thing around his neck - is it meant to be a ghastly piss green bowtie? What a muother-fried mess, the genie thinks to himself.

"Nope, on second thought, give me Cutty Sark. And I want a magic bottle that never goes dry. I mean you can do it, right? Being a genie and all," the bum says.

"Shucks, it'll be a breeze. Your wish is my command," the genie says.

A bottle miraculously appears out of nowhere, popping into the bum's outstretched right hand.

"Wow," the bum says, not believing his eyes. The alcohol abuser takes a big gulp of the whiskey, with the pale-gold, crystal-clear liquid descending well below the neck of the fifth. To the bum's astonishment, the whiskey flows to the top of the stem. Then, the bum takes another good snort of the stuff and the bottle fills up again. He yells, "Wowee!" ecstatic at the thought of possessing any hardcore alky's dream: Yes, he has a bottle of top-shelf booze that never runs dry!

"You have another wish," the genie says.

"I want another bottle just like this one. Make sure it's Cutty Sark." The bum licks his lips and sticks out his other hand, waiting for his jackpot to arrive.

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