“What do you mean no magic?” she said incredulously.
“I think there’s not a lot of wiggle room in that statement, Oh Mistress”, I replied.
“Well, then what was all that ‘poof’ and coming out of an old lamp then? A trick of the light? Swamp gas refracting the light from Venus onto a weather balloon? Is this because I’m a woman!”
“Well, I am over 6000 years old, and I live in a lamp most of the time, so some outdated views might be understandable, but no. It’s not because you’re a woman. I’ve just run out of power. Or at least run out enough I can’t remould the world to reflect your desire, Mistress.”
She looked crushed briefly, but anger soon flowed over the top of that emotion. “So let me get this straight. You are telling me that all you can offer me is that bullshit, there was no magic at all, all I needed was the belief in myself, type encouragement?”
I nodded earnestly. “Yes, I realise that sounds underwhelming Mistress, but the good news is that in that last 800 years, I’ve got pretty good at it actually!”
“And do I still get three Tony Robbins sponsored wishes? Or have you run out of those as well?”
“No, no. You still have three in theory. I usually find though, that when it comes down to it, you actually only have one wish you need to fulfil. Shall we step into my office and talk it over?”
I gestured to my lamp with a dramatic flourish. It was perhaps a little overdone, even if I do say so myself, but I enjoy the showmanship.
“In there? How would we ever..”
I said Abracadabra, snapped my fingers and shouted “POOF”.
The Mistress flinched and covered her eyes. After a second or two she peeked out to find herself still standing in the same spot. She did not find that as funny as I did.
I tried to apologise between my snorts and giggles. “I am sorry. I find a little icebreaker is normally a good way to start a session. Shall we sit down?”
The Mistress looked stunned as she allowed me to guide her to a comfortable rug at the back of the cave my lamp had been cast into. I sat cross-legged across from her on the bare rock.
“Is that not uncomfortable?”, she asked. “You can sit here if you’d prefer.”
“Mistress, I’ve been crushed in metal prison for… wait what year is it?”
“2020”.
“I’ve been in there for nearly a decade this time. So, thank you for your kindness, but this rock floor is luxury enough for now. I need to listen. Properly. Not be enjoying the feeling of that beautiful Afgan rug, with its high quality….”, I tailed off as I stroked the edge of the wonderful creation the Mistress sat upon. I shook my head to regain my focus.
“2020, huh? I suppose all the hindsight is 2020 puns are all tapped out now, are they? I feel like there would be some opportunity there, what with my magical foresight.”
She frowned. “I thought you’d run out of magic?”
“Sorry, sorry. Force of habit, Mistress. With the benefit of this year, I'd not have said that.” I settled back onto my non-distracting perch. “Now, you came a long way, and I’m presuming have overcome significant hardship to find a magical solution to an intractable problem. I think we should start from there. I’m listening. What seems to be troubling you?”
