"Genie? Can you hear me?", you whisper, nervously to the lamp you're holding as you dutifully bring it down the hall and through the laundry room towards the stairs leading down to the garage, "Please! Say something!"
Alas, no reply issues from the magical lamp to your fervent pleas, although you can hear you Mom in the kitchen on her mobile phone, talking to one of her stacked milf-friends, "There he goes! I don't know WHO he's speaking to! It kind of creeps me out sometimes. I tell you Michelle, I don't know what to do with him! Why jus-", and on and on until you are gratefully out of earshot of her inanity.
"Genie! I need you! Please, tell me I didn't just imagine you issuing from this lamp two minutes ago! I'm begging you!".
Nothing, sigh.
You reverently place the exotic lamp up high atop some old bookshelves in the corner of the garage.
One last look, and you head back up the stairs, your mind replaying the fantastic events of minutes ago. "I know she was real.", you mutter, as you bump right into your mother in the hall, actually pinioning you to the wall momentarily with her melon-like bosoms. You look up and she is looking right at you. She smells like a cross between lemon furniture wax and stale coffee. "Who are you talking to, dear?", she says, looking concerned.
"Myself, ma."
"Son, you'd tell me if you were doing drugs, wouldn't you? I've always felt like you and I could talk about anything.", and she almost looks like she's about to tear up.
Mom! Of course! Everything's fine! I'm not on drugs, alright?", you reply, dislodging yourself from her and making your way down the hall to your room.
Okay, I believe you. Remember, your father and I are going to be taking a cab to the airport tomorrow morning, early, and it'll just be you and your sister watching the house until Monday around noon. I want you to keep an eye on her, and neither of you are to leave without letting the other know on the marker board. Got me? If there's any trouble, i want you to call us immediately, and try not to burn down the house! No more than two friends over at a time for both of you! Iloveyou!", she manages to quickly add, just as you nonchalantly shut your bedroom door behind you.
You flop onto your bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to make sense of things, when you suddenly notice:
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