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disclaimer: I based this off the first prompt on this image from a textpost I found on google. it’s not mine.
“So it was your typical morning in BFE (read as: the author is too lazy to come up with a place), possibly the smallest town in the galaxy. It was that kind of town where people don’t even drop by for gas, they either live there or get terribly lost on their way to a metropolis and ask for directions to the local priest, the kind of town that’s so small it only fits three houses and a church, the kind of town where you pass by and the 5 inhabitants look at you like you come from another planet, the kind of town where there’s more people in the cemetery than in the actual town. You see what I mean.
As I was saying, the sun rose over BFE and all that bullshit. A stranger had stopped by for directions, naturally. He went to the nearest house and went to knock on the door, his pickup still parked in the middle of the road, but it’s okay, no one will mind. This door had one of those rather vintage door knockers with an elaborate demon sculpted on it, but Pete didn’t think too much of it as he pulled it towards himself and knocked three times.
A man appeared, to his delight, but this guy was clearly very weird, and not just because he was from the middle of buttfuck nowhere and had a country accent so strong you could barely understand what he was saying, no, that wasn’t the thing. This guy – this man… He had blue skin..?
“ Hello?” The blue-skinned man in front of him said, waving his hand in front of Pete’s face.
“ Yes, uh, hi… What the fuck, you have blue skin.”
“ Oh my g.o.d. Really? You call me and then whine about my skin. Of course. Typical. Why does everyone do that? ‘Oh, genie, genie of the door knocker, grant me some pretty pretty wishes!! Oh my gooooood your skin is bluuuuuue what the fuuuuuuck.’ I am honestly sick of this, S to the I to the C to the K.” The man went on, rolling his eyes, and Pete had SO many questions, starting by ‘why the hell are you talking like a teenage girl?’
“ Wait, you’re the genie of the door knocker? What? How high am I right now?”
“ Yes, and my name is Patrick, nice to meet you too, Pete Wentz. ‘ How do you know my name?’ I don’t know, I just said I was a genie didn’t I. ‘ Genies aren’t like… real though.’ Well, yes, they are, now don’t ask anymore questions and formulate your three goddamn wishes so I can go back home.”
Pete did not know what to answer, honest. He had… Not signed up for this? But the genie weirdo seemed to be in such a hurry he decided to say ‘screw it’ and ask for his wishes. After all, what could possibly go wrong?
“ Alright, so my first wish is to look really good.”
Patrick raised his eyebrows, crossed his arms and said; “ Granted. Next.”
“ Uhhhh, I also want to be really rich, own a mansion and have a wife and also I want three dogs and –“
“ Tut tut tut, that’s four wishes, including the one you didn’t say. You only have two left. Pick something.”
“ I wish for more wishes.” Pete said, a smug look on his face.
“ Not happening, sweetie.” Patrick replied.
Wentz looked mildly disappointed, but not surprised.
“ Okay, alright, then, I wish for this door and everything attached to it to turn into a lamp.”
And like that, the door had effectively turned into a lamp, the wood knocker included.
“ Thanks. Okay my next wish is to eventually find the love of my life.”
“ Granted. Now, I’ve got better things to do than just hang out with mortals so…. Bye bye!” The genie said, disappearing in a poof of sparkly blue powder, but our protagonist is smart, our protagonist is loyal, our protagonist brings back the lamp home. When he looks at himself in the mirror, he sees no changes whatsoever, and with a blush he realizes the genie had been flirting with him. Also, he thinks he’s been hustled with the ‘love of my life’ thing for about twenty years until a suspiciously familiar looking guy shows up at his doorstep, bitching and whining about how Genieworld(TM) was all out of soulmates and they’d told him to do the job himself since he’d been the one to grant the wish.”
From the other room could be heard “ God, Pete, stop telling our teenage kids I’m a genie it’s really weird, ya know?”