For lamentables
Number Seventeen - Whimsy/ Reality
God only knows where Frannie had managed to dig it up. Ray should have known that letting her and Maria lose at a supposed antique market had been a mistake, and now he was paying the price. The house had gained a dubious smelling carpet that claimed to be from Turkey, some drapes that smelled distressingly of incontinent cats, and the lamp.
Ray really didn’t like the lamp. Diefenbaker seemed to be strangely attracted to the drapes.
“Now really, Ray. It’s a rather fine example of Persian brass work.”
“You’re not telling me that this-” Ray picked up the lamp in question from the sideboard and waved it under Fraser’s nose, “-is an actual antique?”
“Well, no.” Fraser rescued the lamp before Ray could do anything to it. “However, it is rather an accurate copy.”
“Benny, what that is is ugly.”
“It’s cultural.” Frannie popped up from God only knows where, glared at Ray and retrieved the lamp.
“Make some noise, would you?” Ray rolled his eyes as Frannie began polishing the side of the lamp with the sleeve of her cardigan.
“Hey, Frase, you know about culture, don’t you? Am I right or what?”
“Well, ah, it is rather striking.”
Frannie beamed triumphantly at her brother. “See? I-oh-” Emerald green smoke began pouring out of the spout of the lamp, curling around Frannie’s feet and spreading across the floor. A tendril of it actually succeeded in distracting Dief from his rapt sniffing of the drapes that were piled in the corner of the room and the half wolf made an interrogative sound and padded over to join the humans.
“Ray, do something!” Frannie thrust the smoking lamp in Ray’s direction. He put his hands behind his back and shook his head.
“No way. You were the one that bought it; you can get poisoned by it.”
Frannie dropped the lamp with a clatter and insinuated herself between Fraser and her brother. Ray sighed to himself as she made a fair attempt at being one half of a dramatic hero-and-heroine embrace. It would have worked better if Fraser wasn’t standing ramrod straight, expression warring between acute interest at the lamp and the smoke, and stiff embarrassment.
The smoke abruptly stopped pouring from the lamp and, in complete defiance of gravity, drew in on itself until it was a restless, twisting hump about six feet tall.
“I am the genie of the lamp,” an imposing sounding voice boomed. “Your wish is my command!”
Ray gaped as the smoke vanished, leaving behind a very tall, very dark looking man wearing a turban, a pair of baggy white pants and not a lot else.
There was a squeal and, while Frannie was quick, Diefenbaker was quicker. The half-wolf grabbed hold of the lamp by its handle and danced in place, wagging his tail.
The genie frowned for a moment, while Ray helped Frannie back onto her feet.
“Very well, but it is usual for a person to use their three wishes in different ways.”
“What-” Ray started to ask, but was drowned out by a sound like a feather pillow hitting the floor, but about a thousand times louder. The genie disappeared and then the room was full of-
“Donuts,” Fraser said disapprovingly, picking a glazed one off of his head. “Really, Diefenbaker.”
God only knows where Frannie had managed to dig it up. Ray should have known that letting her and Maria lose at a supposed antique market had been a mistake, and now he was paying the price. The house had gained a dubious smelling carpet that claimed to be from Turkey, some drapes that smelled distressingly of incontinent cats, and the lamp.
Ray really didn’t like the lamp. Diefenbaker seemed to be strangely attracted to the drapes.
“Now really, Ray. It’s a rather fine example of Persian brass work.”
“You’re not telling me that this-” Ray picked up the lamp in question from the sideboard and waved it under Fraser’s nose, “-is an actual antique?”
“Well, no.” Fraser rescued the lamp before Ray could do anything to it. “However, it is rather an accurate copy.”
“Benny, what that is is ugly.”
“It’s cultural.” Frannie popped up from God only knows where, glared at Ray and retrieved the lamp.
“Make some noise, would you?” Ray rolled his eyes as Frannie began polishing the side of the lamp with the sleeve of her cardigan.
“Hey, Frase, you know about culture, don’t you? Am I right or what?”
“Well, ah, it is rather striking.”
Frannie beamed triumphantly at her brother. “See? I-oh-” Emerald green smoke began pouring out of the spout of the lamp, curling around Frannie’s feet and spreading across the floor. A tendril of it actually succeeded in distracting Dief from his rapt sniffing of the drapes that were piled in the corner of the room and the half wolf made an interrogative sound and padded over to join the humans.
“Ray, do something!” Frannie thrust the smoking lamp in Ray’s direction. He put his hands behind his back and shook his head.
“No way. You were the one that bought it; you can get poisoned by it.”
Frannie dropped the lamp with a clatter and insinuated herself between Fraser and her brother. Ray sighed to himself as she made a fair attempt at being one half of a dramatic hero-and-heroine embrace. It would have worked better if Fraser wasn’t standing ramrod straight, expression warring between acute interest at the lamp and the smoke, and stiff embarrassment.
The smoke abruptly stopped pouring from the lamp and, in complete defiance of gravity, drew in on itself until it was a restless, twisting hump about six feet tall.
“I am the genie of the lamp,” an imposing sounding voice boomed. “Your wish is my command!”
Ray gaped as the smoke vanished, leaving behind a very tall, very dark looking man wearing a turban, a pair of baggy white pants and not a lot else.
There was a squeal and, while Frannie was quick, Diefenbaker was quicker. The half-wolf grabbed hold of the lamp by its handle and danced in place, wagging his tail.
The genie frowned for a moment, while Ray helped Frannie back onto her feet.
“Very well, but it is usual for a person to use their three wishes in different ways.”
“What-” Ray started to ask, but was drowned out by a sound like a feather pillow hitting the floor, but about a thousand times louder. The genie disappeared and then the room was full of-
“Donuts,” Fraser said disapprovingly, picking a glazed one off of his head. “Really, Diefenbaker.”