CCC #101 - Voting Thread

Wish Hunters

Reality has it that people would do anything for a wish. But for Sarah, a young woman of 30 with the blonde hair, has this much to say about wishes. That they are dangerous, anti-climatic, and it could cause destruction on the planet. However, as the saying goes, always wish a person for the best, even though that kind of wish may not come true.

Sarah was part of an organization that hunts down a race of djinns. These days, the djinns were scattered throughout the world, unknowingly granting every desire that a person needs, desperately. But Sarah had her own wish, not that she wanted to ask the djinn for it, but she had to work hard for it. Earning a wish takes a lot of time and patience, and once you focus on your goals, anything can come true.

Sarah's former partner, Taylor made a wish that brought his family back to life. Yes, he did it because he couldn't live himself all alone, drinking, and smoking 24 hours a week. It was a brutal thing for Taylor, and he had no other choice. Rather meeting a psychiatrist or a friend for help, he sought out a dangerous djinn, who liked to toy around with people's wishes. Taylor knew the risk. After all, he had once caught this damn thing from the Nether-Realm, where the djinns, and other magical beings reside. The powers of a djinn were so vast that the criminals of the underworld would do anything to get their hands on. Taylor knew what he was doing, and Sarah didn't like it.

On the contrary, Taylor got his wish. But there was always a price. And the djinn named Sahir had reminded him that once his family were back, he'll soon be dead. Taylor knew something will happen to him, but it depends in a matter of time. A few weeks later, Taylor was found dead in his rented apartment. His throat was completely slashed with an ancient dagger. Sarah couldn't look at him, when she and the other Wish Hunters were called in. It was a sad sight, but the question remains, why would Sahir leave a dagger behind?

"He's toying with me," Sarah said to herself. "He knows who I am." She clenched her teeth. One of the Wish Hunters named Cole came up to her, and said, "Hey Sarah, are you alright?" Sarah didn't reply back to him. She just stared at her former partner, and the dagger lying on the bed. She picked up the dagger, examining it.

"Jesus Christ," Cole said, almost in a whisper. He just couldn't believe it. He and Taylor went all the way back. After they joined the organization, they became fast friends. Knowing that hunting djinns would prove a difficult task, Taylor had that lucky charm, thinking he could do anything right. He may be overconfident though, but he was always friendly to him.

"Look, Sarah," Cole said, overlooking the mess. "Let's clean this up." He barked orders to the other Wish Hunters. Two of them were carrying Taylor's body.

Sarah felt like crying, but she couldn't. Not right now. She had to find Sahir, and make him pay for what he did to Taylor. She looked at Cole, who was still waiting for her. She just said, "Okay."

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People were drinking, smoking, and having sex. What can the world ask for? Here in the nightclub, a black-haired woman noticed a very, handsome man, who looked devilish enough to have sex with. But the man cared less about her. He wore a suit just like any businessman, hanging around the club. But the only difference was that he had a goatee right up to his chin, and that makes anyone think he was some sort of devil in disguise. Sahir looked at the woman, and just smiled.

"Hello," the black-haired woman said, smiling back at him. She tilted her glass of red wine, and sipped it, while staring at Sahir. She wasn't the only woman in this bar, who got the hots for the devilish-looking man. Sahir can hear several giggles behind him, despite the loud music.

"What a night," Sahir said. "I have never seen quite a place such as this." He thought if he could start the conversation, the woman might want to ask a wish from him. Although she looked very attractive, wearing the black sleeve dress, and showing half of her leg, she wasn’t his type. Since, he had nothing else in mind, he might as well speak for himself.

"Yes, it is," the woman said. "I'm just beat. I really wish something. You know...”

Sahir turned towards the woman, and said, "A wish you say? Now..." He paused, looking over the heavy crowd, and continued, "How would you know that I'm..." He stopped for a moment, wondering if the woman can see through him.

"A djinn?" the woman said. She sipped her wine, and came slowly towards him. Sahir can smell the strong perfume, coming from her skin. It was exotic, and charming. She had those red lips that would make any man attracted to her. A thin-looking woman, but not too thin. The woman stroked his tie.

"I just found out from a friend," the woman answered the djinn. "He said the djinn was named Sahir. He took a photo of you."

"I see," Sahir said, sipping his red wine. "So you want to wish for something."

"Yeah, just one wish," the woman said. "Is that too much to ask?"

Sahir thought of that. Of course, humans in this world would ask too many wishes. But according to djinns, they can grant only one wish. He wasn't some blue genie, who can grant three wishes at a time, for each person. It was too much.

"No, it isn't," Sahir said. "But what would you wish for?

The woman stopped stroking his tie, looking around to see if anyone was hearing their conversation. She looked back at him, and said, "I know this sounds crazy, but..." She paused, and breathed for a little while. Then she continued, "I've always wanted to be a vampire."

Sahir almost spilled his wine on the floor, and laughed. The other party-goers stared at him, thinking that he was drunk.

The woman felt embarrassed. She knew it was one crazy wish, which she would ask for. So what? Everyone ask for crazy wishes these days.

Sahir stopped laughing, and said, "You're serious? Woman... You don't know what you're saying!"

The woman got up from the stool, and thought it was a bad idea. "I should be going. Sorry to waste your time." She was about to walk away from Sahir, but he caught her wrist, right-handed.

"No, I'm sorry," Sahir said. "Come and sit down. Come." The woman just stood there, and looked at him. Then, she sat back on the stool beside him.

"I'll grant you the wish," Sahir said. "Are you sure you want this?"

The woman nodded.

"Now," Sahir said. "Why do you want to become a vampire?"

The woman thought for a moment, and said, "Well... I've read a lot of vampire literature, and have seen a lot of vampire movies, and TV shows, and..."

"Okay. Okay. Stop." Sahir wanted to laugh. "Sorry to interrupt. I'll grant it. Just... hold my hand."

"Okay?" the woman said, confused. She stared at his hand, the smooth lines of a handsome man. She thought of having sex with him, but at first glance, she didn’t know it could be safe. Having sex with a djinn could be highly unusual.

She held his hand. Then, Sahir chants a whisper of words to himself. The woman couldn't hear him.

"It's done," Sahir said, letting go of her hand. "You'll wake up as a vampire the next day."

"Okay..." the woman said, confused again. "Well... Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome.” He drank the rest of the wine in one gulp.

The woman looked at the djinn, strangely. After all, he was a djinn. What else did she expect? Having sex with him, even though he was handsome? There was nothing strange about that. She wanted her wish in the first place.

As she walked off from the bar, and said goodbye, the loud music interrupted the djinn's words. He said these very words, "There's a price to pay."

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Outside the club, the car was waiting, parked on the corner of the street. The sky was dark enough to rain all night long. Although the weather forecast predicted the bad weather conditions, the party-goers couldn't stay at home, and get bored. So they went out, having a good time.

Sarah stared at the club, hoping that Rashim was right about its location. Of course, Rashim was always right about anything. After all, he was a half-human, half-djinn. Unlike most djinns, Rashim couldn't grant any wish. He was just lucky enough to get anything right. He had never made a mistake in his life, and that annoyed Sarah.

Cole was sitting beside Sarah on the driver's seat, drinking his black coffee. He said, "Are you sure this is the place? It looks crowded to me."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sarah said. "Hey, listen..." She turned towards Cole, and said, "What do you think of Rashim?"

Cole stopped sipping his coffee. He looked outside the window, hitting hard by the sprinkling rain, and said, "Well, I don't know, Sarah. I guess he's way too perfect. Is that a problem?"

Sarah said, "Is it? I don't know, either."

"Look, Sarah," Cole said. "I know it's not fair for a guy like Rashim to be perfect. But... Come on! He's a half-djinn. What do you expect?"

"I know," Sarah said. "But..." she stopped, wondering. "Not one mistake?"

"Nope," Cole said. "Not one. The guy's too lucky." He sipped his coffee. "Anyways, about that dagger..." Cole paused, changing the subject. "The forensics have confirmed it's true nature. It goes back to the Arabian roots, I think. If you know what I mean..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Sarah said. "But why would Sahir murder Taylor with a weapon?"

"Who said anything about Sahir murdering Taylor?" Cole finished his coffee, and placed it in the empty holder. He didn't know that this was the right time to say something dreadful. He rubbed his head, and said, "Sarah... Taylor killed himself. He bought the dagger from some antique store."

"What?!" Sarah said. "Oh my God. No... You're... You're not serious."

"I'm afraid so," Cole said. "I don't know what to say. Taylor wouldn't do something like that. But who knows? He was miserable enough, not to have his family around, after they were dead. Now that they are back..." Cole stopped, rubbing his head again. "Oh God... I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm so sorry. I know this is a bad time. I thought you should know."

Sarah felt silent, looking ahead on the street. The rain stopped. By the looks of it, the party-goers were coming out of the club. Sahir finally stepped out.

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In this day and age, Sahir never thought to see the homeless people wandering, and sleeping around the streets. He remembered a homeless guy, wanting to get rich a year ago. He got his wish alright, but then the stock market fell down, and that the man killed himself. Sahir hated the smell of the dirty streets of New York, but he was called upon this dark alleyway to meet a drug dealer. He thought it was a waste of time.

"Hey!" someone shouted from the other side of the alley, and this stopped Sahir, moving around the garbage. "Hey Sahib, it's me. Bronco! Come on, dude. I'm waiting!"

"It's Sahir!" Sahir shouted back, correcting him. He walked towards the other side of the dark alley, where the drug dealer was flashing his light.

"Took you long enough," Bronco said. "We were waiting for you, man! I gotta make some money. You know what I'm saying?"

"Yes, I can see that," Sahir said, trying to turn away from the flashlight. "Will you stop pointing that thing towards me? I can barely see!"

"Oh sorry, dude," Brono said, turning his flashlight away. "I had to make sure it's you. You know... Cops?"

Sahir didn't say anything for a while. But when he followed Bronco to some abandoned warehouse, he said, "Is this where you work?" Bronco stopped in mid-tracks and said, "Nah, that was the other warehouse, man. Cops caught on, while we were making the drugs. Not enough time." He resumed walking towards the warehouse, while Sahir followed him. Bronco's friends were there. Three guys were haggard-looking, and one of them was smoking a cigarette. His name was Wally.

"Are you Sahib?" Wally said.

Sahir sighed, and said, "It's Sahir. Yes, I'm the djinn. And I can grant only one wish."

"Cool," Wally said, flicking the cigarette away. "Hey yo!" He turned towards his so-called friends, and said, "This shin guy can grant one wish. You have a problem with that?"

The others looked at each other, whispering, and then one of them said, "Nah, it's cool. No problem."

"Alright," Wally said, rubbing his hands. "Let’s get this done."

"Hold my hand," Sahir said.

"What?!" Wally said, taking a step back. "Are you serious?" He turned towards Bronco for help.

"He's serious, dude," Bronco said with a shrug. "That's how it works. He holds your hand, and says some wishing prayer. He ain't a faggot. Don't worry about it."

"Okay..." Wally said. "Here goes nothing."

Wally let out his hand, which Sahir gripped it tightly. Then, he chanted the prayer.

"It's done," Sahir said. "You'll find your drugs in the warehouse. Look!"

The drug dealers looked around the warehouse. It was full of them.

"Holy crap!" Wally said. "Did ya see that? Did you guys see that?"

"No way!" one of the other drug dealers said. "Dude! We're going to be rich!"

"Thanks, man!" Wally said, shaking Sahir's hand. "I owe you one!"

Sahir wanted to say, "Oh, you do owe me one,” but instead he said, "You could have wished for money, instead of drugs. I would have given you that."

Wally looked at him, bewildered. "No man, you don't understand. Our customers needed drugs, so we can sell them. Making drugs ain't easy. You know?"

"Yes, I understand," Sahir said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must..." He paused, when someone shouted, "FREEZE!" The cops were out, raising their guns. Not to mention, the Wish Hunters were also there.

"What the ****?!" Wally said. "You snitched us." He stared at Sahir angrily.

Sahir said, "No, I didn't. I had nothing to do with them." He stared at the Wish Hunters, coming towards him. One of the cops said, "Put your hands up, where we can see them. Do it now!"

"Oh man, this sucks," Wally said. He raised his gun, firing at the cops. The others did the same, except Bronco went into hiding, and trying to take the drugs for himself. The Wish Hunters backed down, hovering over the ground. The cops covered themselves behind the car doors, firing from behind. Sahir decided to run, even though he couldn't be harmed by ordinary bullets. But the Wish Hunter, Sarah pointed her gun towards him. She fired.

Sahir screamed as he saw the bullet got pierced through his leg, and stopped running. He knew it wasn't an ordinary bullet. It was made of alchemic properties that could harm magical beings.

"Stand down!" Sarah shouted at the djinn. "Or else..."

Sahir laughed. He should have known that the Wish Hunters were hunting him like a rat. Not to mention, calling the cops to arrest the drug dealers.

"I know why you're doing this," Sahir said, as he tried to move with his injured leg. "You wanted revenge. I can understand that. But..." he paused, wondering if Sarah wanted a wish. "I can grant you a wish, Sarah. I can bring... Taylor back to life."

Sarah stopped as if she was frozen to death. She knew something like this would happen. Cole had warned her.

"No..." Sarah said. "No, I can't..." If she accepted the wish, Taylor's family could be dead again, and Taylor goes back to being miserable. She didn't want that.

"Don't you want that?" Sahir said. "I can grant you the wish. Just ask for it."

Sarah closed her eyes, trying to prevent herself from wishing it. Don't do it! Don't do it! She opened her eyes, and cried out, "No, I want you dead!" She fired the shot on the djinn's forehead. Black blood splattered on the ground.

The drug dealers stopped firing, as one of the cops injured their legs. Bronco, who was hiding from the shootout, finally came out. He dropped the stash of drugs, and raised his arms. The other drug dealers did the same. The cops arrested them.

Cole came behind Sarah, who was looking at the djinn's body. "Hey Sarah, are you okay?" But Sarah didn't say anything. She walked away.

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The organization was so vast, that nobody could comprehend the true nature of it. Lots of people were working around the clock. The djinn chaos had started back in the 1980s, and this made the people, including Mr. Harold Newman respond to this wild-wishing crisis. Harold Newman was a black man, who used to be a boxing champion back in those days. Now, he was the leader of the organization, acting tough like a coach. He was waiting for Sarah in his office, wondering when the djinn chaos would ever stop.

Sarah came to the man's office. Harold looked at her, and said, "Sarah, sit down. We need to talk."

Sarah sat down on the chair, staring at Harold. He had that strong build of his muscles like a former, heavyweight champion. Since he had a workout schedule on weekends, sometimes Sarah goes with him, and trained herself to be the best Wish Hunter there is.

Harold laid the report from yesterday's mission on the table, and said. "Have you heard the news about that drug dealer named Wally?"

Sarah said, "No, I haven't heard it, sir." She thought, Something must have happened to him. But it wouldn't make sense because the djinn was killed, assuming the magic wish had worn off.

"Yeah, I thought the same," Harold said, reading her mind. "The guy was found dead in his cell. It's like someone ingested the drug inside his body, and then it came out. As if he were poisoned to death..."

Sarah couldn't believe it. Harold got up from the chair, and looked out the window. "We have a problem here, Sarah. The djinn may be dead, but the magic is still there. Do you know what that means?"

Sarah didn't know what to say. Of course, the theory went around the organization, saying that once the djinn was dead, the magic would wear off, preventing human casualties in the process. But that wasn't the case.

"It means that we have to kill the djinns, before they can grant anyone's wish." Harold turned back towards Sarah. "We're done capturing djinns, and sending them back to the Nether-Realm. We'll have to kill them. My theory was correct. I had to know."

Sarah got up from the chair. "Sir, if I may..."

"No," Harold raised his hand, and stopped her. "You don't have to say anything. What difference would it make? Even if you didn't kill Sahir... What would that prove? More casualties than you can ever imagine. The chaos had started back in 1985. It's time to finish this.”

"But..." Sarah said. "What about the people who wished... Even after we killed the djinns?"

Harold sighed and said, "Sarah, that's the point. We'll have to kill them. You can't prevent a person's wish that has already been made. Yesterday's mission proved it.” Harold sat back on his chair, and said, "Anyways, we'll have to discuss the issue later. You can go now."

Sarah walked away from the boss, but stopped and turned around. "Sir... What about Rashim?"

Harold was looking at the file, and thought for a moment. "He's cool. I wouldn't worry about him. After all, he can't grant a wish. So, he's safe. That also goes for others like him."

"I see," Sarah said. She left the office.

Harold sighed, and said, "Man, I wish I hadn't quit boxing."

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Somewhere in Saudi Arabia, a man who wore a business suit, came alone into the palace, which the leader of the djinn race currently lives. His name was Mustafir, the Great and Wise One. It was bad news that the businessman himself, had to tell him that Sahir was killed by a mortal woman. The djinn leader ruled half of the region of Middle East. Rumors has it that Mustafir never granted anyone's wish. He thought he could his skills, just to see what ruling the human world would look like. He was right. He didn't need to grant anyone's wish for that purpose.

"Master," one of Mustafir’s male servants said, came towards him, and then bowed. "He's here." The djinn looked tired, and bored. The female servants, who were tending his care, decided to leave him, now that the businessman arrived in his doorstep.

"Hello, your highness," the businessman said, and bowed. "I'm afraid I have some bad news..."

"Bad news?" Mustafir said. "And what would that be?"

The businessman didn't say anything. He sighed, thinking that he shouldn't have come here in the first place, since he had other plans. But what the hell? "Sahir is dead."

The djinn got up from his fancy couch, and shouted "What?!"

"Um..." Now the businessman was really scared. "He's dead. I'm sorry, your highness. Your... Your brother is dead."

"NO! IT CANNOT BE! The djinn finally stopped, realizing his own palace was crumbling to pieces. He closed his eyes, calming himself, and said, “Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," The businessman said firmly. "It's true. He was killed by a woman named Sarah."

"Sarah..." Mustafir said thoughtfully. "Yes, that woman. Sahir told me about her. I know."

"What do you want me to do?" The businessman said.

The djinn thought for a moment. Then he said, "I want your men to kill her. This is my request. You got it? I want her dead!"

"Yes..." The businessman was beginning to stammer. "Yes, your majesty. I'll... I'll do my best."

"No, you won't do your best." Mustafir walked towards the businessman, and said close to his face. "You will do it. And if you don't..." The businessman gulped, and nodded. He knew what the djinn leader was going to say next. He walked out of the palace like a frightened cat.

Mustafir sat back on his couch with a heavy sigh, and waited. A female djinn heard everything. She stood behind him.

“Is it that bad?” She said, coming towards the Great and Wise One. “You know. You can kill her if you could.”

Mustafir said, “No, it doesn’t work that way. We’re not allowed to kill humans, only the magic. That’s the rule. Once, they wish something, it either kills or affects them. This is personal, Arah. She killed my own brother. I will not have it!”

“I see,” Arah said. “She’s not the kind to wish something.”

“What do you think?” Mustafir said, annoyingly. “She’s a damn Wish Hunter!”

“You need to calm down, Mustafir,” Arah said angrily. “One day, you’ll destroy the half of Middle East with that voice of yours!”

Mustafir sighed and said, “You’re right, Arah. I need time and patience to do things in this human world. There are times I would grow restless, when something isn’t done right. And that bothers me.”

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A few weeks later, Sarah came alone to the Taylor residence. She rang the doorbell, wondering if this was a good idea to meet Taylor's wife and daughter. But she had to know that it was really them, not some illusion.

Someone opened the door. It was Taylor's wife, Janine, who was an Iranian woman. She still looked beautiful as the day that Sarah met her. Last time, Sarah heard that she and her daughter had suffered a plane accident, while coming back from Iran. The thought of seeing her, gave Sarah the chills.

"Sarah, is that you?" Janine said. "My... what brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm just visiting," Sarah said. But she wanted to tell Janine that Taylor was dead. She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Sarah, is something wrong?" Janine said. "I know Taylor has been busy and all. I do understand his work, although I wished he could spend more time with us..." She paused. "Did something happen?"

Sarah was getting nervous. She said, "Well, you know how he is. Hunting djinns is hard work, I guess."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Janine rolled her eyes. "Come on in." Sarah went inside, and said, "Where's Molly?"

"Oh, she's playing with her dolls as usual." She looked upstairs and called out, "Molly! Aunt Sarah is here!" There was a loud noise, rumbling like a earthquake. The 9-year old kid jumped, and cried, "Aunt Sarah! Aunt Sarah!" Sarah stared at Molly, and wanted to cry. It had been months that Taylor brought them back. At first, she was a little bit scared to see them.

"Hi, Molly!" Sarah said. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Molly said. The little girl hugged her so tight, that Sarah could barely breathe.

"Okay you two," Janine said. "Why don't we get something to eat? I'll make a special dish, now that you're here."

"Special?" Sarah said. "Is it Iranian?"

"Does it have to be?" Janine said, laughing. Sarah smiled, and said, "I can't wait."

The first wish was simple, and in honesty, very silly. The country bumkin farmer could barely string together a phrase in the common tongue, but Mister Malifilous understood his thick tongue mumble easily enough. The bird-plagued cornfield was a testament to abject failure and palpable depression. The pitiful straw man was doing nothing to improve the situation. At least not from the productive side of things. In regards to gloom the ill-stuffed scarecrow hanging limply by its neck was a delightful addition to the horror show on display.

How could anything make this situation more delicious? It took a thought or two, but it did come to Mister Malifilous as he tugged his ratty beard. One of his gifts was he could see a ways into the future, branching off from certain possibilities. It was a simple spell, not worth a single breath. With a casual hand wave he cast a glimmer on the scarecrow.

Anyone having it in their field of sight would believe it was doing it job, sending a good fright into the meddlesome birds. In reality it would encourage them to return, and increase their reproductive cycles. The farmer's family would slowly starve until they reached the point of desperation. Then the farmer would slice throats as they slept, before disappearing into the night, a fugitive haunted by guilt and self-loathing. Anyone seeing the scarecrow after these events would perceive it to be alive and suffering, pleading silently for release from its hanging fate. They would believe it to be alive, enchanted, perhaps even a charming personality. Mister Malifilous was an artist, but that didn't mean he had no sense of humor.

I wished and some how it came true.

The green gaseus genie gently bobbed up and down with a grin across his muzzle. "Änother?""

I was astuonded because I honestly never thought Id ever have a twelve inch pianist and now that I did I was pretty content.

"Holy Wowzers! It's just where he said it would be. How the hell does he know this stuff? " yelled Colin, gleefully falling to his knees.

"Dunno," said Frank as he gathered around the object, "He knows more than he lets on that's for sure."

The two young men were hunched over together in the sand of a beachside cave. They were examining an ancient lamp that had washed in the night before.

"Well let's get this back to him. I'm sure he doesn't want to miss out on the wishes." Frank said,

"Where is he? asked Colin

"Does anyone ever know where he is? I guess we just head toward town and he will find us like he usually does." Frank suggested.

Taking the Lamp, the two set off on foot down the beach toward town and into the industrial district. They had walked no more than a block when they heard a very excited man shouting and they saw him motioning and waving to them from over the road. He was a middle aged man, Neither slim nor fat, neither tall nor short, not muscular but not unfit. He was unshaven and his slightly longer than a shadow beard had flecks of grey through it, as did his otherwise jet black hair. He was wearing a blacksmiths apron and goggles and he looked filthy from the work he was doing.

"Ahh youve got it! Excellent excellent! Come on you two we have preparations to make." And the man led them into a warehouse.

"Okay boys let's get to work. Colin, you kill this monkey and chop it up. Frank, learn the spells in this book here and then you can both kill this chicken. Ive got an errand to run...." The man exited abruptly leaving Frank and Colin staring at each other in horror.

The next day the three of them returned to the beach. Frank a tall gangly man, Colin, a short stocky man and Leif their excitable mentor. Leif Clover was his name, always upbeat, always up to something.

They brought with them a wooden box with black iron straps and hinges. It was covered in runes and chicken blood. There were three large padlocks on the box and each padlock had a charm adorning it; a rabbits foot, a monkeys fist, and a leprechaun's shillelagh.

Leif pulled the lamp out of his huge Jacket pocket and held it aloft. "Before we rub this lamp I want to warn you one more time. Once this Genie is out, there is no going back. I hope i have prepared you for how crafty they can be. They can leave you in a world of pain if you aren't careful with your wishes. I heard one man asked a Genie for ton of gold and the cheeky bastard sent him a ton of gold leaf which was picked up by the wind and blown out to sea. Another guy asked for a sexy woman so the Genie turned him into one! You get the picture?

Frank and Colin nodded innocently.

"Are you prepared for this?"

Frank and Colin nodded innocently.

"Ok, open the box and I will rub the lamp!"

The Genie in the bottle was aware that he had been found. He waited at the ready for his first breath of free air. The lamp was rubbed and in rushed the wind. As the Genie inhaled the free air it was as if the outside had inhaled the Genie, breathing him right out of the lamp. The Genie quickly came to his senses and the first thing he saw was Leif Clover speedily stowing the lamp in the box, followed by Colin locking the locks and Frank reciting various spells from the book Leif had given him.

Frowning, confused and feeling threatened, the Genie quickly transported them all to a cold icy wasteland.

"Hahahahaha" laughed the Genie with arms folded in front of his truck sized chest."In bondage to grant you three wishes am I; yet free to punish those who defy. Hahahahaha"

The three of them stared up in awe at the House sized Genie floating before them. He was clothed in a red tunic that flowed down his torso and disappeared into the wispy ethereal mist that joins all genies to the underworld. On his head was a golden turban encrusted with jewels like a crown. He had the face of a noble Arabic warrior but as they stared at him they could feel that he looked like an Ox with horns that travelled up the outside edges of the turban. It was evident that they were dealing with a malevolent being.

Leif turned to the other two as they stood there with teeth chattering in the cold. He yelled through the freezing wind. " I think we may have bitten off more than we can chew!"

"Hahahahaha, ."I await to grant you your first wish my masters. Hahahahaha"

" You first Colin." said Leif through the ice that had formed in his beard.

"I wish we were in a warmer climate!" wished Colin

"Ahahahaha", laughed the Genie."Your wish is my command. Ahahahaha".

And before they had seen the genie conjure or chant or wave his hands, they found themselves on top of a volcano that had appeared beneath their feet...in the same icy wasteland that they were already in.

"Hahahahaha, ."I trust the warmth of the climate is to your liking masters. Hahahahaha"

"It's pretty clear that we are never going to get what we want." Said Leif to the other two. "Time for the plan."

Frank and Colin brought forth the box.

"Ahhh my lamp." said the Genie

"Yes it is." answered Leif. "And we know how you need it. We know that if we destroy it you will go back to the underworld to stay. Oh I'm sure you love it there in the dark, squirming around with all the others."

The Genie seemed to be trying to use his magic to see into the box. He seemed to be trying to magic the lamp out of the box. He tried again and again in seemingly different ways and with each attempt he got more and more frustrated until he snapped. "What have you done!!"

Leif answered. "Its no use trying to get it out. Your magic wont work there. There are more wards on that box than there are in all the hospitals of Europe. Now If you would like to see your lamp again I suggest that you give us the wishes that you well know we are asking for. If you dont you will find that the container of sulphuric acid that is in this box will have a lamp swimming in it. Colin here has cast a betrayal spell. If there is a betrayal on any of us the spell will drop the lamp into the acid, Now would it be too much trouble for you to grant us the wishes that we really wish for?"

"Hahahahaha very good my masters, I commend you for your tenacity. By your prudence you have earned the wishes you wish for. I await to grant you your second wish my masters."

"Your turn Frank” said Leif.

Frank was looking pale and sick "I wish I was home!" he wished.

"Ahahahaha", laughed the Genie."Your wish is my command. Ahahahaha".

And with that Frank's house appeared on top of the volcano with his parents and the family cat inside.

Betrayed, the three of them turned to the Genie who was now holding the Lamp in his hands

"Hahahahaha, ."Home sweet Home . Hahahahaha"

"Unlock the box!! Leif shouted at Colin.

Colin unlocked the box and they found that the lamp was gone.

"Ahahahaha Your spells are nothing!" Laughed the Genie. "Ahahahaha. Now before I leave you all here in this tundra, I await your third and final wish......Master, Ahahahaha"

"Whats the point? Why should i even bother? said Leif to the Genie. You wont give me what i want no matter how big or small the request might be. This is just a waste of time. I dont care anymore i will make my wish just to be rid of you. I wish i had a warmer jacket."

"Ahahahaha", laughed the Genie."Your wish is my command. Ahahahaha".

And with that Leif's jacket began to move on its own. It began to tug at him to and fro until pulling upward it ripped his arms skyward and removed itself from Leif altogether, tossing itself into the volcano.

"Ahahahahaha...........

......

Leif Clover was his name, always upbeat, always up to something, always having the upper hand. Some say he is enchanted, others say he is the luckiest man alive, but he would say that there is no substitute for good preparation. You see yesterday when all that terrible animal killing was going on in that warehouse and all those evil magical wards were being cast on that box, Leif had taken the lamp to an expert forger,

It was a copy of the lamp that Leif had put in the magic box.

And the real Lamp was in his Jacket pocket.....

.......

" Ahahahahaha, You wont get a warmer Jacket than that! Ahaha ha h ... AAAAAHHHHHGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

The War

23rd August 1940, Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare, London

“Perhaps the bombing has held him up?” Major General Godrick Barber said apologetically as he looked at his gold pocket watch watching the seconds tick by. Prime Minister Winston Churchill grunted as he chewed on his cigar. Standing at the steel door away from the acrid cloud filling the room was Churchill’s bodyguard, Walter H Thompson, who rubbed the end of his nose.

“You’re right,” Churchill stood up as he knew what that signal meant. “If he can’t be bo…”

A sharp rap smacked the door from the other side. Walter carefully opened the door and allowed a slender gentleman in a purple suit and black cape sauntered in.

“Mr. Prime Minister, this is Damien Crowley,” Barber introduced. “Head of the Alpha et Omega.”

“Winston,” Damien bowed but kept his eyes locked on him. “You owe my father thirty pounds.”

“You’re the son of Aleister Crowley?”

“Indeed, and I may have the answer to this silly little fracas,” Damien unclipped his cape, draped it over the back of a chair and took a seat.

“Mr. Prime Minister, as you know we occupied Iceland recently in response to the Nazi occupation of Denmark,” Barber rolled out a map across the black tabletop. “In Reykjavík harbour we encountered a ship flying under a Belarusian flag.”

Churchill stubbed out his cigar. “Belarus is landlocked. It has no seaports.”

“Which is what caught the eye of Brigadier George Lammie who boarded the ship and, well perhaps I should let Mr. Crowley explain.”

Damien smiled without emotion. “The Ahnenerbe is the Nazi occult engine. The reason they’re winning on every level is the fact they’ve made demonic pacts, secured mystical weaponry and are using dark magicks to aid their cause. They have teams scouring the globe looking for anything that will help them.”

“You’re saying it’s not the perpetual bombing but some sort of mumbo jumbo that keeps us from gaining an upper hand?” Churchill scoffed and stood up. “I think I’ve heard enough.”

“You have a black dog following you,” Crowley mused into the air. “It isn’t here today but it’s never far away, is it?”

Winston stared intently at the young man of no more than twenty-five. He’d told exactly seven people about his bouts of depression, which he’d name a black dog, and all of them could keep secrets. Quietly he sat back down. “It is always nearby.”

“The magical and spiritual realms are nothing to be scoffed at, Winston,” Crowley put a black pouch onto the table that tunked with a metallic sound. “Just because you don’t understand doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

“Explain this Alpha et Omega you work for?” Churchill took out another cigar.

“We are a continuation of my father’s group the Golden Dawn. We seek knowledge and artifacts very much like the Nazi’s except we want to help humanity whilst they, well to be honest who knows what they want.” Damien removed a small copper lamp from the bag and placed it on the table. “They had this in Iceland.”

“A lamp?”

“Yes, a simple lamp.” Damien opened the lid and showed that it was empty. “Now since I was drafted into the Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare, I was told that no measure was too extreme or to silly to end this war.”

Winston crinkled his face but remained silent.

“I can end the war now,” Damien said. “A simple rub of the lamp…”

“Are you telling me you have a genie? Like that Arab fairytale.” Churchill folded his arms.

“Precisely! Whilst the Nazi’s scour Palestine for the Ark of the Covenant and the Spear of Destiny, I have right here the power to end the war…at a price.”

“You want money?” Churchill was aghast.

Damien shook his head. “Summoning genies or djinn always comes at a price. The last time a wish occurred was 1918 when a simple Belgian soldier named Pierre Wielemans summoned a djinn. His wish ended the war, but the price was the Spanish Flu.”

“You’re trying to tell me a fairy caused the pandemic?” Churchill scoffed.

Damien stared back at the portly leader of Britain. “Correct, though your use of the word fairy is wrong. This is a magic lamp. Think of it was the most powerful weapon in existence but using it has a price.”

Winston leant forward. “So, if I take up that trinket of yours and wish for the entire German High command to be transported onto the Sun, it will happen?”

Damien opened his hands wide invitingly. “Rub it and find out.”

Winston stared at the lamp then Damien Crowley and then over to his bodyguard. “Tell me more. Please.”

Damien actually smiled. “The genies and djinn are not to be played with. They are powerful, deceitful and trapped by ancient bonds that force them to do the bidding of whoever summons them. They love nothing more than giving mortals their perceived hearts desire only to watch it all come crashing down. Your wish for example could be misconstrued into merely sending the building to the sun. They love nothing more than to use language to their advantage.”

“You know this how?”

“I used a wish to become the head of Alpha et Omega. It cost the life of my father.”

“Oh…” Winston sucked on his cigar. “The war would end though?”

“I don’t mean to sound obtuse but perhaps. All I’m offering is a weapon and way to possibly end the war, today. But just so you know that there is always a price when dealing with forces beyond that of us mortals.”

Winston nodded. “Everyone except Mr. Crowley will leave the room. That includes you Walter.”

Slowly, quietly Major General Barber left the room followed by the large bodyguard and the steel door clicked behind them.

“Do you get three?” Winston asked.

“Perhaps just start at one,” Damien suggested.

Winston picked up the lamp and rubbed the side of it lightly. The copper began to faintly glow as green smoke seeped out the nozzle. The emerald cloud merged with the cigar smoke and swirled around the room tornado-like before a large man-thing hovered in the air before them. He was of copper skin, hair tied in a top knot with a chin beard. His eyes were glowing purply-green and his physique was as if a Greek marble statue had been given life.

“Which speck dares disturb me?”

“Damn, it’s a djinn!” Crowley whispered.

Winston’s cigar dangled from his bottom lip. Damien elbowed him subtlety. “I…I do!”

“Speak your piece!”

“I wish for six pistol bullets that will never miss their target,” Winston said confidently.

“Interesting,” the djinn snapped his fingers and upon the table appeared six bullets. Each was a deep purple in colour. “You are pushing the limits, little blob.”

“You mean it was hard creating six bullets?” Winston laughed. “I was under the impression that you were powerful.”

“What are you doing?” Damien hissed in his ear.

“Winning the war,” Churchill replied. “Get the door.”

“You stupid mud ape!” The djinn roared. “You will pa…”

“I was under the impression that there was already a terrible price to pay once I wished. Now you are adding MORE conditions to a terrible price. I can’t fathom how you make terrible worse?”

“SHUT! UP!” The djinn roared making the room shake. Walter and Barber entered the room and Walter was straight beside his charge ready to escort him away, but Winston scratched under his left eye and waved him away. Walter calmly walked backwards.

“YOU STUPID, INSIGNIFICANT, PISSANT…”

“You sound like the Opposition,” Churchill laughed. “I feel that you’re nothing more than some parlour trick Mr. Crowley has devised to make the Government open it’s coffers. Damien, I bid you good day!”

The djinn grabbed Churchill by the throat and hauled him into the air. “I am older than the rocks and bend the laws of the universe to my whim! You dare speak to me in su…”

“I wish that you would treat Adolf Hitler in this fashion!”

The djinn was surprised and vanished into thin air.

“Are you alright sir?” Walter asked.

“Quickly, to the roof,” Churchill gasped. “You have the bullets?”

“Of course.”

The quartet fled the room and headed up to the roof of the building, which was a disguised fish and chip shop on the Thames. Churchill held his hand out and Walter placed the pistol in it.

Churchill, he pointed the gun into the air. “Adolf Hitler! The djinn! Joseph Stalin! The black dog!”

Four shots rang out.

By 4pm that day the Nazi’s announced that Adolf Hitler had been killed by a cowardly sniper and Hermann Goring became the new Fuhrer of the Reich while Vyacheslav Mikhailovich Molotov announced that Soviet leader Joseph Stalin had passed away in his sleep. By 9pm both the Nazi’s and Soviets had been in contact with Churchill and US President Roosevelt about ending the war.

World War Two ended officially on the 30th of August 1940.

Epilogue

World War Three began on the 1st of June 1947 and lasted until 1954, with a death toll near ninety million.

In 1963 one of the remaining bullets was supposedly used to kill US President Kennedy.

Winston Churchill died in 1969, four years after leaving office. He is seen as one of the worst leaders in history, a tyrant with an iron grip on power.

C-Note: Wishes and Bitches

Norfolk, Virginia:

C-Note had been watching Smackdown negotiate with this crazy dude in gray armor, covered in what looked like some kinda blue samurai gear. Guy was saying he could give the Liberteens Wish- straight up wishes in a pill. Smack wasn't buying it though, and was about to walk away from the deal.

Crazy dude held out one of those glowing blue pills in his hand, and said, "Again- maybe one of you would like to try it."

It seemed impossible, but he felt like actual wishes were too great a chance to pass up. So C-Note said, "Yo, Smack. I'll try it. Just if things get stupid, don't let my moms see me until I'm right again."

Smack gave him a fist bump, and said, "A'ight, C-Note."

C-Note strutted back over to the crazy dude, looked at his inscrutable mask, and swore he saw light dance behind the white eye lenses. Sniffing once, he picked up the pill, looked at it, and said, "How's this work?"

"Just take the pill, and wish for something," the man said, sounding almost threatening.

"Wish for something?" asked C-Note, looking slightly confused. "Wish for what?"

The man pinched his fingertips together next to the pill in C-Note's hand, and flicked them open, pulling his hands outwards in an exploding motion, and whispered, "Anything!" The whisper seemed to echo around the warehouse, making the other gang members look around nervously.

C-Note snorted once. "Anything," he laughed. "A'ight, homes, we'll see." With no ceremony, he popped the pill into his mouth, and swallowed. He felt no different, but he looked at his chest, and watched the blue light shine from inside him, working its way down to his gut. He laughed aloud, and turned towards his homies, all of whom- even Smack- got wide-eyed. "Will you look at this?" declared C-Note. "A'ight! A'ight, homes!" he declared, pointing back at the man. "You want a wish?" Turning back to the gang, he nodded, smirked, held his arms wide, and said, "I wish I had twenty million dollars and some bitches to celebrate with!"

His boys started to cheer their approval when a stack of money appeared between them and C-Note, along with ten mutts of varying breeds. The cheering stopped, and the gang jumped backwards before inching forward slightly. "Yo, what the--?" said C-Note. "What's with these fuggin' dogs, dude?"

"You asked for bitches," stated the man. "Bitch: a female dog, wolf, fox, or otter." With a sinister chuckle, he wagged his finger, shrugged, and said, "You could have wound up with wolves, you know." Crossing one arm over his chest, and resting the other elbow on it, he curled a finger against his lip, and said, "The otters might have been cute though. But never foxes. No. Foxes are trouble."

Smack sounded pissed, "Yo. Peeps don't get what they wish for, they gonna start beef."

"Then I suggest you tell them what they should already know: be careful what you wish for," growled the man.

C-Note did a slow walk around the money, and the dogs jumped around him happily.

Smack was quiet for a minute. Finally, he asked, "How much?"

C-Note couldn't believe what he was seeing. Crazy dude just waved his hands, and oil drums of the glowing pills appeared before him. "I'll give you all that you want," he said with a bow.

"Huh," Smack scoffed. "What's the catch?"

"You have to give away the first hit, and you can't sell anyone more than three," said the man, holding up three fingers for emphasis. "A person only gets three wishes, after all. Remember: you can sell the second and third hits for as much as you like, and they're going to pay."

"You're pretty sure about this," said Smack, still sounding slightly doubtful.

"I am."

"Anything else?" Smack asked.

"Just two more things," said the man, holding up a finger. He suddenly disappeared, and reappeared right in front of Smackdown, making him flinch. C-Note hardly ever saw Smack flinch. It weirded him out a little. Then crazy dude whispered in Smack's ear, and for some reason, that made C-Note's heart race. Then aloud, crazy dude said, "And remember: you must tell them this before you sell them the third hit."

Smack looked shook, but he didn't sound it when he said, "I got one more thing too. The Liberteens don't work with no one that I don't know."

"Ah, a wise decision," said the man, sounding pleased. Bowing slightly, he said, "You may call me The Wishing Demon," and a guttural growl seemed to come from the masked man.

Smack began sweating, but he didn't sound afraid. "You said you had two more things. What's the other one," he asked.

"Oh!" exclaimed the Wishing Demon, suddenly standing bolt upright. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, and growled, "Make sure you clean up after your bitches before you leave." With that, he disappeared.

The gang looked over towards C-Note and the money, and saw that a bulldog, a beagle, and a Yorkshire terrier were peeing on the cash.

"Damn, C-Note! Clean that crap up, and meet us back at the crib!" shouted Smack.

"Why me?" he complained.

"Because you're the one that wished for dogs, stupid!" Snapping a finger, he ordered, "Everyone else get those barrels on a truck."

C-Note just punched the air a couple times, pissed at himself for messing his wish up. Then he thought about something. "Yo, Smack. What'd he whisper in your ear? What we gotta tell junkies before they buy a third hit?"

The way Smack looked at him, C-Note knew he didn't want to say. But he did anyway. "He said if you make your third wish, you lose your soul."

C-Note scoffed. "Yeah, right. What the fug'd he say, man? I've already taken one of those things." He scratched a golden retriever behind it's ears while he looked at the leader of the Liberteens.

Smackdown just looked back at him, saying nothing else.

"C'mon, man, you jokin', right?"

Smack still didn't say anything. He just gave a tight shake of his head.

C-Note didn't know what to say to that.

Just then, there was a loud squawk, and Flipside shouted, "Yo! Where'd this danged chicken come from?"

Just as suddenly, there was a pop of air, and the chicken was gone. "Aw, man!" shouted Smack. "Get this stuff loaded up, and let's get the hell out of here!"

With a pop, the drums of Wish were suddenly on the flatbed. Behind it were twenty briefcases of money, and ten dog crates with the dogs in them.

The gang started buggin' out, and Smack and C-Note just looked at each other. "I think someone wants us to go, Smack."

"Yeah," Smackdown agreed. "Let's get the fug outta here."

***

C-Note's Mama's House:

"Hon'!" called C-Note's mama. "You comin' down for dinner?"

"Yeah, ma!" C-Note hollered. "I'll be down in just a minute. I just gotta finish brushin' this dog!"

"Don't be long! It's gettin' cold!"

"A'right, ma!" he called back. Really, he finished brushing the poodle awhile ago. Now, he was just sitting on his bed, staring at the twenty briefcases stacked in his closet. In front of the Liberteens, Smack had told him to take them home, and they'd square up when the Wish deal was done. Aside, Smack had said he was sorry about the soul thing, and told him to keep the money, but not to tell anyone else. Smack had never given up money that should go to the gang before. This stuff really had him scared then. The more he thought about Smack being scared, the more it made C-Note scared. He didn't know if he believed in a soul or not, but he had a feeling it was worth more than any twenty million.

Then he reached in his pocket, and brought out two of the glowing blue pills. Smack had given him those too. "Yo, man, I don't know about this- we saw what it could do, thanks to you- but here. You earned 'em. Just keep it to yourself. Get it over with, or flush 'em, man. Whatever." They fist bumped, and C-Note had driven the truck home, dogs still in the crates.

He was gonna put them all in the backyard, but his mama loved them as soon as she saw them, so they all came in the house. The black lab and the golden retriever were in the kitchen with his mom. The bulldog and the French bulldog were lounging on the back porch. The German shepherd and the German shorthaired pointer didn't seem to want anything to do with each other, but they had both taken corners of the living room- one below the TV, and the other beside the recliner, next to the kitchen doorway. The beagle was at the top of the stairs, and the rottweiler and poodle had come to his room. The rott' had gone to his sister's room as soon as she got home, which she loved. C-Note didn't mind it either- maybe it would be good to have a big dog tagging along with his sister.

He put the pills back in his pocket, and headed down to dinner.

***

C-Note's Mama's House, Two Months Later:

"Oh, pleeeeeeease, can I have some bacon? Can I? Please? Oh, please! Lemme have some baconnn!"

"Dang, Tawny!" C-Note groused to the golden retriever. "Don't you ever think about anything else?"

"How can I?" asked the dog, crouched low to the floor. "It's so goooood. Bacon? Please? Bacon?" she whined.

"A'ight," laughed C-Note, as he dropped some bacon from his plate to the kitchen floor. "But you better start talking about something besides that all the time! Y'hear?" he demanded as the dog greedily snapped up the strips and ate them. "I didn't wish for you to talk so you could just say 'bacon' all the danged time! You supposed to be keepin' mama company, an' tellin' her what the other dogs want!"

"Ohhh, yesyesyes!" Tawny yipped, wagging her tail. "I'll talk to her whenever she wants!" she said happily. Tilting her head, she said, "Do I still get bacon though?" Her eyes begged for it.

C-Note chuckled, shaking his head. Throwing another strip down, he said, "That's the last one! The rest are mine!" Tawny gobbled her bacon, and C-Note had a piece for himself. "Mm! It is good though!"

That wasn't the only reason he had wished for Tawny to talk. He was a little scared to use the wishes on anything big. The money was turning into a fulltime job, and the dogs were all over the place, always up in his business. The other wishes were still tempting though. He kept thinking that he could use the second one at least- he wouldn't lose his soul until the third wish. He thought of so many things to wish for- it just consumed him. Finally, he couldn't take anymore, and he decided to just use the second wish and get it over with. The third wish wouldn't be as tempting, because that one would cost him his soul. So he wished for Tawny to talk, and that was it for the second wish.

***

C-Note's Mama's House, One Month Later:

C-Note wasn't just called that because of his sonic powers. He was also really good with money. He'd sent his sister to school, which honestly she wasn't that happy about, but she went. He'd set his mom up for life- paid off the house, bought her a car, and hired her to take care of the dogs, so she could get out of that convenience store- Mister Patel was kind of a prick. C-Note hoped it pissed him off. His mom was happy to take this new job, except for cleaning up the dogs' poops in the backyard. So he hired one of the neighbor kids to do that, making it more than worth his while. Kid still bailed a couple times a week. C-Note was thinking about hiring a landscape company to keep the yard clean instead.

Without letting Smack know, he'd invested a good deal of the money. Almost as soon as it was in, the market took a steep dive, and he took a big hit. It might have destroyed a lot of people, but he'd picked his investments well, and they were making a comeback. Slowly, but they were approaching what he started with.

He had part of it in banks too. At ten grand, a bank would have to report his deposit to the IRS, so he deposited less than that in each account. So, he had money in lots of banks. A few of them had been robbed by some chick in a pink costume. Totally wiped those banks out. Money's insured and all, but it pissed him off a little.

And part of it, he'd done what his mama told him. "You're gonna give your tithe to the church, young man! Y'hear me?" she'd scolded.

"What?" C-Note had balked. "What's the church gonna do with two million dollars, mama?!"

"Whatever the Lord wants 'em too!" she said, smacking his shoulder. "And you take it down there today, before the devil talks you out of it!"

C-Note shook his head. "A'ight, mama."

She rubbed his head, smiled proudly at him, and went on after the bulldogs, Tawny close behind her.

"Are you going to the kitchen?" asked the retriever. "Is there any bacon left?"

"Tawny! Quit worryin' me about bacon!" his mama shouted.

"Oh, pleeeease," begged the dog.

C-Note couldn't help laughing. Mama was gonna kill him over that dog. Then he thought about the church, tsked, and headed upstairs to get a couple of briefcases. He didn't really mind giving the tithe like his mama wanted him to do. It's just that the reverend was going to ask a lot of questions about where the money came from. Oh, he'd take it for sure, but he'd make C-Note feel real uncomfortable about how he got it. He sighed, and headed back downstairs. May as well get it over with.

Sitting on his bed, he thought about that long, uncomfortable conversation with the reverend, and just handing over two million dollars like it was Monopoly money. He sighed lightly, but just shook his head. It was done now. Besides, it made his mama happy, and the church wasn't a bad place to give money to. He didn't go as often as his mama would like, but something good always seemed to happen after tithing. Mama said that was just the Lord's way. C-Note considered it a good return on investment.

***

West Liberty Street Underpass of the Liberteens, Three Days Later:

The cops and some heroes had stormed their parking lot about twenty minutes ago. The fighting was brutal, and unbelievably, C-Note was having to fight off a little girl with the same powers as he had. He was winning, of course, but then there was a sharp pain, and he woke up in handcuffs, and in the back of a prisoner transport truck.

Smack filled him in. They'd lost, obviously, and were on their way to jail. One of the heroes had taken a pill, and wished all the Wish out of existence. They were done. C-Note was shocked, but found himself chuckling, then full on laughing. He laughed for a long minute.

"Yo, C, you okay?" asked Smack.

"Yo, man, I am better than okay! I am saved!" laughed Smack.

"'Saved?' Whatta you mean?" asked Smack. "You findin' religion all of a sudden?"

C-Note shook his head. "Naw, man." Then he thought of the tithe his mama made him give. "Well, maybe," he laughed, "but that ain't it. No more Wish, man! Don't you get it?"

Smack just looked at him.

"No more Wish, man! That means I can't make my third wish! I'm not gonna lose my soul, man! Ha haaa! Yes!" he said triumphantly.

Smackdown actually looked relieved. "Yo, man, that is good!" Then his face scrunched for a few seconds while he thought about something, and he said, "What did you use your second wish on?"

C-Note just laughed. "Same as the first, man: bitches." And he laughed some more.