The man walked along the desolate stretch of beach. His balding
head glowed crimson in the light of the setting sun. His shoulders sagged
under the weight of the world, and his paunch flowed liberally over his belt.
Driftwood littered the beach which acted as a narrow buffer between sea
and earth. Where the strip of white sand ended, a thick tangle of brush
began. The sun, hanging low in the western sky, cast an orange pallor
over the scene.

Presently, he came to a large rock near the brush line and sat down.
He rubbed his face methodically with both hands, and then produced a
small metallic object from the right pocket of his faded windbreaker. He
turned it over slowly in his hands. With each revolution, the planed
surfaces of the object caught and reflected the golden light of the low sun.

He raised his head, looked skyward, and thought out loud. "So this is
the end of Murray Weinbaum. Maybe I'll blow this,
too. I've been a loser all my life. Hell, even my name--Murray Weinbaum-
-God! I'm not even Jewish. I've been a clerk in a hardware store for thirty-
three years. If the owners ever knew I was a gentile, I probably wouldn't
even have that. Well, one good thing—I've never had to work on
Saturdays."

He held the object up, inspected it, and pointed it at his head. Not
bearing to watch himself die, he scrunched his head down into his body as
far as it would go, and arched his shoulders upward. Just as he was about
to pull the trigger, a strong flash of light caught his attention. It came from
something half buried in the sand at his feet. Puzzled, he lowered his
hands and the gun with them. He talked to the thing. "Probably just a beer
can, but I think my death can wait a few minutes longer."

He reached down and began furiously pushing away the sand. In a
few moments he had uncovered the thing. It was an ancient oil lamp with a
handle at one end, and a spout-like projection at the other. A layered,
round lid topped the opening in the center of the lamp. He tugged on the
lid, but it would not budge.

The heavy lamp appeared to be made of gold. He blinked his eyes
several times in hopeful disbelief, and attempted to wipe away the grit that
encrusted the lamp.

He rubbed his sand covered hands over the surface of the lamp, and
detected an acrid odor, as if someone were burning incense. Then he
noticed a light purple mist pouring from the spout.

It thickened and billowed. He could discern a human form in the mist.
His jaw dropped. His hands shook at his sides. The gun fell and
discharged. The sharp report stirred him to action. He yelled, "What in
God's name is happening here?" A voice answered from the purple cloud.

"Boy, one gets a hold of a good thing, and he has to tell all his friends
about it. A Jinn never gets a moments rest. Oh, well, I suppose I should
get on with it." The purple shape produced a small pair of wire rimmed
glasses from the loose fitting shirt that was open to the waist, exposing his
purple chest. He perched the glasses on the tip of his nose. From
somewhere else he produced a scroll wrapped around two wooden
handles. He began unrolling the ancient script, and read as he did,
stopping frequently to prevent his oversized turban from sliding off his
head.

"Greetings, effendi. I am Ali Ben Rashid, the Jinn of the lamp.
I am yours to command O' great Master."

Murray was dumbfounded. As he stared mightily into the mist, and
noticed the parchment, he interrupted the Jinn. "Are you reading from
something?" He asked incredulously.

The voice in the mist boomed once more. A slight perturbation could
be detected in the Jinn's demeanor. "It's been five hundred years since
I've done this. Allah be praised, man, it does take a while to get back into
the practice. Now where was I?" The Jinn moved a purple finger quickly
down the scroll. "Oh, yes, here I am. I am authorized to offer you three
wishes O' great Master." He peered over the scroll, stared at Murray
disapprovingly, shook his head, and continued. "Three wishes and no
more." He was obviously getting into his role now. The expression on his
purple face became more animated as he spoke. "I can grant you your
heart’s fondest desires. Wealth beyond your imagination--title! Position!
Your greatest dreams can come true, Master, with but a simple wave of
these humble, purple hands."

At this, Murray sat down, stunned into silence. He stuttered as he tried
to talk. The sun was nearly below the horizon. In the failing light, the
purple mist took on an eerie, neon glow.

"Th--this is j--just too much. Here I am about to kill myself, and I
stumble across Alladin's lamp."

"Not quite true, effendi," The Jinn interrupted. "Let's see." He
produced a piece of parchment. "That particular lamp is buried
somewhere in the Sahara. You see, this is but one of twenty five
franchises granted before the lamp smith met an untimely end."

Murray was beginning to regain his composure. "What kind of untimely
end?" he snapped, becoming concerned for his own safety.

"Something to do with twenty young Nubian girls. A truly sad and
sordid affair. I really don't think that you'd be interested in the details," the
Jinn answered, a guarded smile covering his face.

"No, I guess not," said Murray. "Twenty-five lamps you say? Do you
know the precise location of all of those lamps?"

"Most. Several of the Jinn failed to make it to our last reunion, so I
have ho idea where they're at. But, in any event, Master, you only get
three wishes per lifetime from any one of the lamps, and of course, this
offer is void where prohibited by law." The Jinn looked down, and ran his
finger along the scroll once more. "Oh, yes, it is essential that I inform you
that you must suffer the consequences of your wishes, unless those
consequences can be corrected by a subsequent wish. There, I think
that's everything." The Jinn leaned forward, his feet nowhere visible. He
placed his hands at his hips, still clutching the ancient parchment in his
right hand. His turban tilted far forward on his head. "Well, Master, what
can I do for you?" The Jinn was serious but, taunting.

Murray thought, and then looked up. "The first one is obvious. I wish
for a never ending supply of money. Uh—let's see--better make that
American. He added sheepishly. "Kruggerands would be nice, but too
much trouble at the carry-out."

The Jinn bowed low and clasped his hands in front of him. "As you
command, Master." The Jinn then lowered his head, and spread his
hands. "It is done, Master."

At Murray's feet lay a brown mahogany case, the size of an attaché.

He looked down curiously, picked it up, and set the case oh his lap.
He looked up at the Jinn without opening it. "This is it?" It's all in here?"
he queried.

"Yes, Master, that is it."

Murray opened the case. Inside was a set of United States currency,
from a penny to a thousand dollar bill. The bills were set in slots in the lid,
while the coins were in indentations carefully made in the velvet of the
bottom. Murray counted. "But this is only one thousand six hundred
eighty-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents, and not even silver certificates. I
don't mean to be pushy, you being a busy genie and all, but I did ask for all
the wealth I could ever want."

"And, so you have it," the Jinn responded. Let's face it, we don't know
how much money that is, and it could very well fill several warehouses.
That could get messy. You'd have to find guards who would not steal you
blind, and I'm sure the tax collectors would have questions. This is much
more practical." The Jinn beamed broadly, obviously proud of his
handiwork. "No you see the fifty dollar bill, Master? Simply remove it from
it’s place."

Murray did as he was instructed. A second bill miraculously appeared
in its place. Murray's jaw dropped again. Slowly, he reached out and
grabbed the second fifty. Another took its place. Murray grabbed again
and again. Each time another bill mystically appeared. He tried the same
with the thousand dollar bill, with the same results. Murray went up and
down the row of slots, until he had a fist full of money. He started laughing
uncontrollably. He chose one bill at random, and examined it closely. It
certainly looked genuine.

Murray began pulling bills madly. He danced around on the beach,
and, then, holding as many bills as he could high over his head, he let
them rain down around him in a rich, green and white shower.

He suddenly stopped and scanned the beach. He could see no one in
any direction. Obviously, having one's own genie, even if only for three
wishes, was certainly not something to be shared.

He collected the money, folded it, and carefully placed it in his pocket.
The Jinn watched, still smiling. When Murray had finished, the Jinn
queried, "what is your next wish, Master?"

"Gee, I don't know. I'd like to think about it. Is there a time limit on
this?"

"No, Master. There is no time limit. Take as long as you wish, so to
speak. When you make up your mind, simply rub the lamp, and I will
appear." At that, the glowing mist disappeared in to the recesses of the
spout.

Murray picked up the lamp and he examined it again. He rubbed it and
the purple mist rapidly flowed out. The Jinn was dressed in what appeared
to be a purple night gown. A long cone shaped night cap had replaced the
turban. It was flopped to one side of his head.

"Yes, Master?" the Jinn wearily asked.

"I--I was, uh, just testing," said Murray, suddenly afraid.
The Jinn threw his night cap from one side to the other. "By Allah's beard,
man. I am real!" With a loud snap of his fingers, the Jinn, and the
mist disappeared without ceremony.

Murray got into his battered car, and made the long trip from the
beach, down the coast highway to his second floor flat. All night long, he
dreamt about his remaining wishes. The possibilities were endless—the
wishes but two. He decided that the wealth he gained from the first wish
could complete all of his wildest dreams, therefore the last two wishes
could be safely squandered. At long last, with a smile firmly planted on his
oval face, he decided oh his second wish.

Murray spent most of the morning acquiring the capital to do three
things. First, he would buy a new car, get a new wardrobe, and then,
finally, a modest mansion. By noon, arms weary from making money, he
left to complete his tasks.

At two o'clock, he came out of a fashionably expensive men’s clothing
store on Rodeo Drive, laden with boxes, and literally hopped into his
waiting Mercedes. His next appointment was with a real estate agent. On
the seat of his car was a large valise filled with enough money to
accomplish his purpose. An interior decorator was to meet him at his new
house to finish the appointments.

In less than two days, Murray had fulfilled two lifelong fantasies. He
pulled into the driveway of his new home. It was a sprawling three story
structure with eight huge columns in front, and no less than ten bedrooms
within. He had been assured that it was the former home of kings. With
an inexhaustible supply of cash, it was no problem to have the house
furnished around the clock.

After the last of the workmen had left, it was time for Murray's second
wish. He lovingly produced the lamp from the valise he carried. He gazed
at the encrusted and tarnished lantern which he placed gently on the
massive oak dining table. He leaned over, caressed the lamp, and leaned
back.

The light purple haze poured from the tiny spout. Soon the Jinn was
visible in the pungent mist. This time the Jinn was dressed in a light, bright
tunic bound with a lilac colored sash.

He gave a great yawn, and looked around. He folded his great purple
hands over his chest, and said, "not bad, Master. You could have done
much worse."

"I normally have," stated a strangely confident Murray Weinbaum. "I
am ready for my second wish."

"You need only state it, and it shall be done," replied the Jinn.

"I want women--lots of them!" He gleefully washed his hands in the
empty air. "All shapes and sizes, but beautiful, yes, beautiful. And, how
shall we say--uninhibited." Murray winked slyly. "And have them here at
eight o'clock tonight."

The Jinn beamed. "Ah, Master, you are a sly dog. As you command."
The Jinn made another grand, sweeping gesture, bowed low, and was
soon lost to sight as the purple mist disappeared into the lamp.

Murray spent the rest of the day preening himself in front of a bedroom
mirror. He giggled like a child with a new toy. "Ten beds--no waiting," he
chuckled to himself. Finally, the appointed time arrived. The gaudy door
bell chimed twice, and Murray moved to answer the call. He couldn't
believe his eyes. There must have been twenty-five young women
standing on the portico. All shapes and sizes, as ordered. And all
beautiful. The Jinn had truly done his job. Murray whistled joyfully.

"Come in, come in!" Murray beckoned. Soon the party was on in
earnest. The champagne flowed, and a fire burned briskly in the fireplace--
and in Murray. It was not long before the lights were dimmed, and clothes
were shed. The din was deafening, and discernible a block away.

Just as Murray was about to settle in for a long siege with his beautiful
harem, the door bell rang again.

"Must be some late comers. I must hire a butler," he said to himself.
"Well the more the merrier." Murray winced at the well worn cliche, but
when you have money, you’re entitled.

He quickly threw on a smallish robe which failed to hide all of his vast
bulk, and went to greet the new arrivals. He opened the door to find two
police officers standing there.

"Anything wrong, officers?" asked Murray, as innocently as he could
manage.

"We had a report of a loud party. I'd just appreciate it if you could keep
the noise down, and I’m sure everything will be all right," said the taller of
the two officers.

"Sure thing officer. I don't mean to cause anyone trouble. I just moved
in and didn't think that anyone could hear the party." Damned nosy
neighbors, he thought to himself.

"Enjoy yourself, but quietly," rejoined the policeman. He was turning to
leave when an oddly, and illegally, familiar scent caught his nostrils. He
looked in time to see several young women streak across the foyer,
burning contraband in hand.

"Wait a second, mister. Maybe we better have a look around." In a
flash they were past Murray, and into the great living room where a
bizarrely erotic sight jolted them. They seized a large quantity of leafy,
green vegetable matter. After checking identifications, the officers
discovered that all of the girls were under the age of eighteen. The taller
officer asked Murray to put on something a little less comfortable, and to
accompany him to the police station.

Murray was only required to sit in the lonely, damp cell for a short
while. It was a small matter to arrange bail. He had hired some very
expensive attorneys to consummate his real estate transaction, and had
thoughtfully brought sufficient cash to secure his release.

He hailed a taxi outside the police station, and rode the several miles
back to his new house in silence. He paid the fare, tipped generously, and
then exited the cab. He stormed up the drive. He went immediately to his
bedroom, and procured the lamp from its hiding place. Without formality or
ceremony, he roughly rubbed the lamp. The Jinn appeared, clothed in his
dressing gown and night cap.

"I trust you had an excellent time, Master." The Jinn winked several
times knowingly.

"You imbecile!" shouted Murray. Forty-eight years of losing burst forth.
"All of these girls were under eighteen. Don’t you know that’s against the
law?"

The Jinn screwed up his face in his embarrassment. A slight reddish
hue was detectable in the violet mist, in the vicinity of the Jinn’s face.
"They looked eighteen to me, Master. In my time they would have been
considered past their prime. I was ashamed to provide you with such old
maids."

Murray shook with rage, but not wanting to jeopardize his final wish, he
snapped, "We'll talk about this in the morning, but you've got a lot of
explaining to do. Away with you--now!"

Silently, the Jinn obeyed, and the mist disappeared, leaving behind
only a faint acrid odor, not unlike that which had gotten him in trouble just
hours before.

Murray slept fitfully until he was roused by the sound of the great door
chime. He quickly threw on his skimpy robe, and went to the door. There
stood the same two officers who had arrested him on the previous night.
With them were several more men dressed in plain business suits. The
same officer again took the lead. "Mister Weinbaum, we have a search
warrant to check your house for counterfeit currency. These men are from
the U. S. Treasury, and will want to have a little talk with you. They will
advise you of your rights. May we come in?"

Murray went ashen. "Counterfeit?" Was the only reply he could
muster. Sweat poured down his pudgy face, channeling through the many
wrinkles. The men filed in, and began their methodical probing.

In the study they found a satchel filled with Murray's working capital. A
quick check revealed that all of the serial numbers on all of the bills were
identical. Murray was placed in hand cuffs, and taken to jail. Another call
to his lawyers, and all of his life savings, and the deed to his new house
secured his release.

It was some time later when he again exited a cab in front of the
mansion. He ran in, and went directly to the bedroom. He took the lamp
from its hiding place, and violently put it on the opulent bed. He rubbed the
outside of the lamp so hard that the heretofore un-removable lid went flying
across the room. The smoke poured out, and the Jinn became visible.

"You clown, you call yourself a genie!" screamed Murray. "I get two
wishes and land in jail--twice. Not only were the girls too young, but the
money you gave me was counterfeit." He pointed an accusing finger at the
Jinn, cocked it, and symbolically fired. "All the serial numbers on the bills
were the same!" The color of his face nearly matched that of the mist, so
great was his anger. "I ought to wring your purple neck! Don’t you know
anything about serial numbers?"

"I am deeply sorry, Master." Said the Jinn humbly. "In my time we
simply minted the coins with the sheik's face on them, and that was that.
Whoever thought of numbering their money?"
"I'm going to lose everything!" Yelled Murray at the top of his lungs. "The
house! The car! The clothes on--my God, I even paid the attorneys with
phony bills. You got me into this--undo it now!"

The Jinn produced the scroll once more, and hurriedly unrolled it. He
ran a nervous purple finger down the decaying parchment.

"Again, I am sorry, Master. I explained to you that you must suffer the
consequences of your wishes. According to the manual, I can not
interfere."

"I don’t believe this. This is your fault. Your bumbling has gotten me
into this mess. How can I even get my job back after all this? Drug
charges. Morals charges. Counterfeiting! Oh, my god. By tomorrow my
picture will be in every newspaper in the state."

"You still have one more wish, Master. Might I make a suggestion?"

The color drained from Murray's face. His arms fell to his sides, and
he thought for a while.

"Very well." He said, strangely calm. "For my final wish, this is what I
want. You get me out of this. In addition, I want a good job with short
hours, little work, and good fringe benefits. I want it to be a job that gives
me power. I am tired of being a loser. Can you do that, and get it right?"

The Jinn smiled. He bowed low, and said, "Master, it shall be the
greatest wish I have ever granted." The smoke disappeared, and suddenly
Murray felt faint. With a dull thud, he struck the floor.

When he awoke he did not know where he was. His head and body
ached. He looked at himself, and involuntarily cried out. Where once
there had been healthy, but old, white flesh, there was now purple clothing.

He looked about him desperately, and spied a round portal. The view
was tenuous, but by craning his neck, and squinting his eyes, he could see
outside. Through the round opening he could see the bedroom, and the
former Jinn, now white-fleshed, and smartly attired in grey pinstripes.

The Jinn turned towards the lamp and looked into the spout with one
great eye. "I hope this fits the bill," he said derisively. "You should only
have to work once every four or five hundred years, and the work will be a
snap." He threw back his head and laughed heartily. The Jinn made a
deafening sound with his thumb and forefinger. Then Murray fell
backward, as the Jinn lifted the lamp, and placed it in his valise.

The End


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