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Newest - Highway to Hell - DREEEEEEW!
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We Genies!
Rich Cerow
Unearthed in the late 20th century, this tablet depicts the first
known image of a genie.
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In the searing heat of the Arabian desert, a lone figure peers over the horizon through a mist of heat.
He is grizzled and tan (as I’ve always wished to look but I can’t grow even the faintest semblance of a beard
and I’ve never gotten past “Dracula” on the Tan-O-Meter) after his arduous journey to something that suspiciously
resembles the set of early 90s Nickelodeon game show Legends of the Hidden Temple. Inside, his treasure
lies, the fabled magic lamp which will unleash a comical genie who spouts all kinds of anachronistic pop culture
references while teaching our hero what true friendship (and love) means...
I was recently re-watching the Shaquille O’Neal masterpiece Kazaam! the other day, and it got me to
thinking about what I would wish for if a genie popped out of a bottle. I immediately ruled out “more wishes”
because, well, genies all seem to have planned for this eventuality and made a rule against it. And yet somehow
never planned for any of the other eventualities like some Jafaar-like maniac getting a hold of it and wishing
to rule the world under their iron, but still kind of effeminate, staff. Anyway, I also think unlimited wishes
would just be too many choices for me – I’d be paralyzed with possibilities. It’d be like when I go and try to
buy tube socks at the store; why do there need to be fifty brands of these that all advertise some different
kind of magic sock-rocking ability? I just want something white that keeps my tootsies warm. It’s days like
those that I long for the simplicity of Communist Russia. In Communist Russia, socks wear you.
Of course, that still leaves a lot of standard wishes out there for me to chew over. Wealth would be out
of the question because there’s no way I’d be able to explain it to the IRS without looking like some kind of
drug baron – which, admittedly, would make me kind of cool and give me tons of street cred. But I think once
you have to start telling your cell mate about genies and their magic faerie ilk, you are setting yourself up
for a few long years in the federal penitentiary. The other standard that I always hear bandied about is world
peace, but I’ve really gotta say, that seems like wishing for more wishes. Think about it, the genie’s gotta
solve hundreds of conflicts around the world to ensure this, not just one. And I don’t want to mess around with
the rules and get extras on a technicality, because then when my other wishes come around he might decide to get
technical on me. So, for instance, if I wished to be the handsomest dude in the world, he’d transport me to
some planet full of butt-ugly alien chicks. I don’t want him fulfilling my wishes by sticking me with a bunch
of green, six-armed broads even Kirk wouldn’t have a go with after a fifth of space vodka. But where does that
leave me then, with the three big wishes out of the way? Well, I’ll tell you:
 A Growing Pains Reunion Movie featuring the full cast
(including Leonardo DiCaprio) and myself as the long-lost fifth Seaver kid. I mean, think about it – if you
were the little brother of a legend like Mike Seaver, you would get all kinds of ladies just on name recognition
alone. Rolling into John F. Kennedy Junior High with that last name is like a license to print tickets to go
directly to second base. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Unless she’s gonna pay you. Cause that’s the
kind of business you can pull if Mike Seaver’s your older brother. They’re just gonna assume you’re as smooth
a cat. Plus, I could totally learn a life lesson at the end about being my own man, and forging my own identity.
It’d be a very special episode. Maybe I could even get Boner Stabbone’s kid brother to be my sidekick.
- A trip to the moon. Partially just so I can tell Lance Bass I beat him there. But also because if
I take one of those space tourist trips with the Russian equivalent of NASA, I believe that officially makes me
a cosmonaut. And that is like three steps above defender of Communist Russia in the boxing ring, so I’d have
something on Ivan Drago. Finally. Then I could have a glorious return from space and come back to America and
push around astronauts. Cause, really, they wouldn’t be such hot stuff anymore. Scoring all the chicks every
time I’m out trying to chat up a lady. And then what, Buzz Aldrin walks in? Forget it, I’m out of the picture
at that point. I can’t compete with that walking on the moon business. Yet. Oh, and after I get to the moon,
I am gonna go out and herd some cattle. Cause cowboys are on my list, too. Might as well fight a fire while I’m at it.
 A DeLorean, fully-modded to look like the car from
Back to the Future. And you better believe a working replica of Mr. Fusion better be included.
Mind you, this is just to look like the Back to the Future car. I don’t really have a desire to go back in
time – things seem like they were a lot filthier back then. And the future, while it looks fun in some movies,
is more often a dystopian nightmare of robots that serve us and act nice but secretly want to kill us, or a future
where the robots already have killed us. So, I’d rather not take my chances, since my ancient religion insists that
movies are projected onto screens by spells cast by powerful witches who know all and see all. No, I just want the
DeLorean 'cause then I could constantly drive 88 miles per hour. And when a cop stopped me and asked how fast I was
going, I could tell him and we’d share a laugh. And then he’d just tear that ticket right up, cause he’s a big fan
and this is a pretty sweet ride, and I’d show him all the switches and maybe offer to let him take his girlfriend to
the Enchantment Under the Sea dance in it. Then I’d peel out and leave a trail of flames behind me. I would totally
get places more quickly.
After that, I’d hope the genie and I had become best friends, and then he’ll just stick around and not so much
grant wishes as just occasionally use his powers to make my life easier or take me to Disneyland. Cause, I mean,
after he’s free from his genie duties, he might as well be cool. And, hey, if you know any cool genies, we should
hang out. Just post where the genie and I can grab some beers on the
message board. I promise I won’t get him drunk and
try to get him to turn my old girlfriends into goats or anything. Pinkie swear.
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