Dear Diary,
Sometimes my master makes me so mad! Last night, I even called him horrible
names. Of course, he could not understand my Persian epithets, but it served its purpose,
nonetheless. I had thought that my master had gone to bed, but when I heard him in his
study at one o'clock in the morning, I floated my bottle up to him. Again, he was working
on his silly old model rocket ship. I could give him a real one if only he would ask.
My master does not like it when I call him "Master". He says it makes him feel like
a fat, old caliph. But when I tried to show him how much he did not resemble a fat, old
caliph, he only rejected me. And my cake. And a walk along the beach. So, I lost my
temper and blasted his toy through the window. He was not pleased. If only my master
would see how happy I could make him if he would only allow it. I am going to be a
laughing stock among the other genies if this keeps up. Whoever heard of a master who
does not ask things of his genie? I have not.
This morning my master told me that I was perfect! He does care for me! I think. I
was reading a scroll called The Emancipation of Modern Woman. When I asked my
master what it meant, he told me I never have to worry about things like that. That it did
not matter. Why should it not matter to me? I am a woman. Perhaps not modern, but this
scroll may help me. I will surprise my master and perhaps then he will appreciate me! But I
am beginning to think that my master says things to me just to make me stop talking. He
first said I was perfect, then he told me that he did not care for the manner in which I
dressed, spoke and acted. This is perfect? I think my master does not know what he
wants. Or perhaps he just needs a dictionary...
I finished reading the scroll this afternoon and I am so glad that I did! It tells of all
the ways to make the aloof man in your life stop taking you for granted. That is my
master: Aloof. When he arrived home from the drudgery of his job, he found the house a
mess -- and me, I am not too proud to say.
"Hiya, Master! How's the ol' boy?"
The scroll said to not be a drudge and share the work with him. I would let my
master clean the house. He did not approve. He told me that the scroll was "subversive
literature". I must find out what this means. When my beautiful new clothes arrived, I
thought my master would yell at me. Well, he did. Until, I blinked on the insanely
expensive dress and did my hair. He told me I was beautiful as he gazed at me!
"I may keep the dress?"
"Is it very expensive?"
"Insanely."
"You may keep the insanely expensive dress."
Truly, he was gazing! At last, I have done something to please my master! And
when I kissed him, for the first time since that first night, he kissed me back!
My master took me out to dinner tonight. It is the first time he has ever taken me
anywhere. We went to a place where a woman did authentic harem dancing. Authentic !?
Ha! In my day, she would be flung to the crocodiles. I ran up to the stage to show my
master how the dance should be done. Unfortunately, he yanked me down off the stage
and took me from the restaurant. I thought he was mad, but we laughed about it all the
way home. You see, I sped up the girl's dance so it would be over sooner. I did not think
it was fitting for the others in the restaurant to have to endure her. She moved as
gracefully as a dog scratching fleas. I was so pleased it amused my master, but then he
told me that I had behaved improperly. That I was not behaving as a woman should! Yet,
it amused him. If I live to be another 2,000 years old, I will still not understand my master.
This morning, I left my master without breakfast and went to my new job. It is
called "pitching a demo". When you pitch a demo, the people will "fork over a
commission". I am not certain what it meant, but it almost got me killed. The demo was
for the "miracle oven". The women found it suspicious when I whipped up a frosted cake
in the blink of an eye. Thank goodness my master came to my rescue. But I was so
embarrassed. I stayed in my bottle all night until he came to get me out. He could see that
I was still crying and he tried to comfort me. I thought he was finally going to ask me to
marry him, but instead he told me that I needed a pet. A pet?! Oh, well. I hope my master
learns to like my lion, Siam. If he does not, I am afraid that Simm will have a very difficult
time learning to like my master. After all, one roar is worth a thousand words...
