I really have no idea why I picked up that damn lamp. There I was walking down the beach by myself on a rainy night, trying to get over Sylvia in the most cliche way possible, when my foot hits this heavy bit of steel and I think my luck might just be changing. If only I knew how wrong I was, I wouldn't have dug it out of the sand. I would have walked away and not looked back. I guess that would be my other wish. To go back and not have this whole thing happen to me, you know? Not that it matters, I can't actually do anything. Let me explain...
Like I said, it was a heavy piece of steel, so I thought it might be something valuable. I dig it out, and it's--and I'm not making this up here, I swear to God--a lamp. A fucking lamp. Not like the one you plug in with a light bulb, like an old-fashioned one that burns oil. A lamp. Now I'm thinking this might be some relic or something, but then I thought, well, who would throw something of value right into the sand on a beach? Obviously it hasn't been here long, the top was peeking right out. But then I just figured, hey, what if it belongs to somebody's ex or something? I mean, when Sylvia left me two days before that, hadn't I burned all her shit on my front lawn, even the stuff that might have been worth something? Didn't the neighbors call the fire department on me? Hadn't I gotten drunk and passed out so long I hadn't noticed the fire spread to my fence? You're not exactly clear-headed in grief. So I figured hey, what the hell, I'll look at it in the light.
I go inside the 7/11 to take a closer look and I notice it looks old as shit. Tarnished as shit at that. It looks like there's some sort of inscription on the side of it too, so I take the edge of my over-sized grungy shirt that I threw on after I vomited on my last one, and I rubbed the grime off to look at the inscription. Next thing I know, I shit you not--now get ready because you're not going to believe this--a genie rolls out of it. An honest-to-God, no shit Genie. Now of course this rocks my world, right? I mean, I thought I had a good handle on things. Now, all of a sudden, I find out that genies exist. Not only do they exist, but they live in lamps like I'm in some goddamned cartoon. All of a sudden I'm Mr. Lawrence of A-Fuckin'-Rabia.
This genie isn't like any genie I thought would be, not that I had given much thought to genies before this point. He was fat, hairy, ugly, and smelled really fucking bad. He kind of looked like Jonah Hill if he had been out of work for about a decade, and smelled like a combination of mildew, old sand, and shame. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of cutoff shorts. He didn't say anything. Literally nothing. He appeared in a puff of smoke, stood there for a few seconds, waved his arm in front of my face, and within thirty seconds, POOF! He was gone.
At that point I hadn't had a drink in a few hours, so I thought I might just be seeing things. I looked around, and everybody was staring at me. I could tell, though, that it's because I had just dropped an old-fashioned lamp in the middle of a 7/11 at 12:30 in the morning on a Tuesday, stood there like an idiot for a few seconds, screamed like a little girl and peed myself, not because I had seen a genie. Yeah, I peed myself, okay!? I'm not proud of it! It wasn't the first time I had urine on those pants and it wouldn't be the last time either, so sue me!
Anyway, like I was saying, they hadn't seen a thing, so I would have believed that none of that had actually happened, but there was one problem. I felt...different. Like, I couldn't describe it, but I felt like there was a huge extra weight on my shoulders. Literally, not figuratively. Like it was hard to walk. I just somehow knew within me that I had this...thing...I had to do. I knew that I had to help people. Ten people. With no help, no superpowers, no magic, no nothing. Just real, actual help. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I could read people, you know? See what they wanted most in that moment. Luckily, some of the "wishes" were easy enough to grant.
Somebody in that 7/11 in that very moment wished that I would leave so that they could breathe properly again (I forgot to mention that I hadn't showered since Sylvia left.) Done and done. The next day I showered, shaved, wore some clean clothes and went walking across the street to get to work. I gave a homeless guy twenty dollars so he could buy some food. I walked an old lady across the street. You know, stuff like that. It was simple enough, nothing too big, but these were the things these people wanted the most in the world in that moment, and I was giving it to them. Sure enough I feel this weight being lifted off of me.
Herein lies the problem. I knew it was ten people. I knew it. Yet here I am, having granted hundreds of people's wishes, and I know I'm still not...right. I know I'm still stuck. And I think I finally know why that is. I think the final person I have to help is myself. With my wish. To finally get over Sylvia. For some reason, I just can't do it. She was the love of my life, even though I treated her like shit. I can't seem to get over the past. I could help a thousand more people, become some sort of philanthropist, work in a homeless shelter, and it still wouldn't be enough. I have to do the one thing I don't know how to do, or else I'll be stuck in this body forever.
Oh yeah, that's something I forgot to mention, didn't I? Something else that happened when that goddamn genie visited me. Something else I could feel. If I don't finish the job he set out for me to do, I can't die. I'll live forever in this drunk, angry, bitter body. This happened ten years ago, and I haven't aged one goddamn bit. Haven't gained or lost a pound, haven't grown or lost any hair, haven't physically changed at all. Yeah I know, I'm still pining over this girl I lost ten years ago. Pathetic, isn't it?
Well, that's why I came to see you today, Doc. I have this dilemma. I either get over this hangup I have for a girl I used to date ages ago, or I endure a fate worse than death. I'm really hoping you can help me with this, Doc, I'm counting on you. After all, your name is the same as the one on the inscription of that lamp! What a coincidence, right!?