Chapter Text
Being a genie was a contract. The seemingly infinite number of rules of being one were written out on a metaphorical paper with your signature already signed without choice. A genie served their master and existed for them. They were to abide to their master’s wishes and fulfil three of their desires. Those were only a small handful of the rules; a genie would know that since they all had to have each and every one memorised.
The thing about knowing every rule off by heart is that it becomes a whole lot easier to figure out ways to be a little bitch whilst still following them. And that was Tommy.
Every genie lived monotonous lives of granting three wishes to one master then living in their boring ass lamp until some other being came across the it. That was all too boring for Tommy.
The first time Tommy had acted on his want to not be a basic bitch was when he decorated the outside of his lamp to snazz it the fuck up with cool reds and whites to match his red skin and wisps and white button up (which he later changed to a hoodie because that shit was way more comfortable).
The main loophole Tommy exploited was the most hilarious (and annoying, but not to him. It was his fucking entertainment man, it could never be annoying). It’d probably be best to show rather than tell.
His first words to his new ‘master’ or whatever were of great disappointment, “There is no fucking way you see a whole ass genie come out of a lamp and you follow up with the awkward British smile and nod. Mate, what is fucking wrong with you. Well, anywho, you have three wishes and you can wish for whatever you want except I can’t kill people - I know, kinda sucks doesn’t it? I also can’t make people fall in love with you because fuck romance and thirdly, I am not a necromancer, I’m a genie. Bringing people back from the dead is not in my powers. Sorry, just grieve instead.”
“Why are you a kid?” Huh, so this bloke didn’t even try to question his methods of explaining wishes? That’s new.
“You ageist or something? That’s not very blithesome of you.”
“I’m concerned on whether this is child labour or not.”
“Oh, yeah that’s a hell of a lot better than the other explanation I had in mind?”
“What was the explanation?”
“I don’t really need to tell you.”
“Ah, alright then.”
“So, what’s your name, baldie.”
“Jack Manif- Hey, fuck you. I am not bald.”
“You really are, Jack Manif. You should probably wish for hair, being bald doesn’t suit you.”
“I am not bald!”
“Sure, lie to make yourself feel better. Look, I can help you out man; that’s what I’m here for.”
“‘I wish for hair.’ As if that’s not the shittiest wish ev- What. The. Fuck?!”
“You said ‘I wish for hair’! So you have hair now.” Tommy explained. It was quite simple, really.
“IS THIS FUCKING BLUE?!”
“Pretty ‘slay’ as they say, isn’t it?”
“I CAN’T SEE IT ALL AND IT’S ALREADY LOOKING SHIT!”
“Want a mirror or something?”
“YES! GET ME A FUCKING MIRROR!”
“Your wish is my command!”
“I would complain about this being a hot pink barbie mirror if I wasn’t more upset about this bob cut.”
“You’re a big slay, Jack Manif! Slay queen!”
“I’m a guy.”
“You can be a guy and a queen, mister.”
“Just- Just get rid of this hair.” Jack Manif sounded a little done. Oh well, that wasn’t Tommy’s problem, now was it?”
“You got it, you’ll have to revert to not being a slay queen though but bibbity bobbity boo! Bald bitch back! Did you like my alliteration for your final wish?”
“No, it was fucking stup- Did you say final wish?! When the fuck did I lose all of my wishes?! ”
“Wish numero uno: unbald the bald. Second wish: a mirror. The final of the lot: rebald the not bald.”
“THE MIRROR WAS A FUCKING WISH?! UNDOING THE STUPID WISH I DIDN’T WANT WAS ONE TOO?!”
“Yeah, duh. Anywho, bye bye!”
“Don’t fucking leave after- Oh, and he’s back in the fucking lamp, great!”
Another day, another slay. Jack Manif technically only got a barbie-themed mirror out of this but the baldie had also gotten a minute of f a b u l o u s n e s s!
He now had more time to spend decorating his lamp some more until someone new came across it.