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A Pretty Attractive Genie

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  • A Pretty Attractive Genie

    Sahjhan, between the events of Chosen and the events of Origin

    A Pretty Attractive Genie

    Wake up, and stretch. See the blazing sunrise, smell the coffee? oh yeah. This is the life. Or it would be if I slept. Or had a coffeemaker. Or had a sky.

    God damn it.

    In retrospect, I'd like to blame that cocksucker Justine. Or that chump Angel. Or maybe that woman Holtz? or the frikkin' Powers That Be ANNOYING for the prophecy in the first place. That is if they make those prophecies? really should have looked into that.

    Freaking. Hell.

    I'm inside a jar.

    Of all the bloody situations. Incorporeal, facing inevitable death, and now stuck inside a big jar. What would the neighbours think? My ex-teachers? ?Oh, that boy, I always knew one day he'd get jarred'.

    I can't believe I just thought that.

    And I'm trapped in this little jar of enclosed space, not even enough room to run around and do some yoga. How am I gonna ward off this flab? And there certainly isn't a washing machine for my robe, or a shower, or even a freaking painting for me to look at.

    I would kill to get out of here. In fact, I would kill for a TV. Or a tennis ball that I could bounce off the wall of the enclosure and catch? I'd be such a stereotype that I wouldn't even need the TV.

    Sigh. And no one hears these remarks. Why am I always at my wittiest when I'm alone? Why do I always internalise?

    Oh, that's right. Because I'm STUCK IN A FREAKING URN!

    ***

    The light swirls around me, looking like magic dust as it swishes. Come on. Someone's rubbed the lamp, baby? I'm getting out.

    I blinked as none of this happened. Instead, a pretty young redhead human sat in front of me. Darn. She sat in a meditative pose, and no, not Justine. Some other redhead.

    "Do I? know you?" I asked, wondering whether my vocal chords would work after so long. Hmm. They did. Demonic constitution pulls through.

    The redhead opened her eyes, and on seeing me, the eyes widened and she jerked backwards. I rolled my eyes. As she calmed herself, she began to speak.

    "I, uh? wouldn't say so?" she replied uneasily. Pah. Women. Always nervous around a big man.

    "Then what are you doing in my urn?" I asked testily, "did you get banished into here? I think not."

    "Yeah, I can, uh, see why you'd be possessive of this place," she answered back sarcastically. Oh, the cheek of this girl. But I guess company was company.

    "Sahjhan," I asserted, indicating myself.

    "Willow," she replied.

    "Very zen name? What are you doing here, Willow?"

    "Well, I don't know, I was just surfing the conscious levels and I got drawn in here," she replied, smiling hazily. Suddenly looking suspicious, she glared at me. "Why? What are you doing here?" I rolled my eyes again.

    "Just growing a few plants of weed in the basement, but oh God, don't tell the dean!" I snarked sarcastically.

    "Well no need to get snooty," she replied, offended.

    "I'd call it just cause for snoot, but whatever," I defended. "Actually, I got sucked into this bottle thingie."

    "So, are you like? a genie?" Willow asked, peering at my face.

    "Yeah," I replied, sarcastic once more. "A pretty attractive genie."

    We sat in silence for a second. She looked slightly taken aback, and well, I doubted she really knew what to say. Time to take charge. I was gonna score some company.

    "So, you're a witch, then?" I asked casually.

    "Yeah." She grinned. "A good one."

    "Wow!" I replied, trying to sound impressed. "I'm a demon, you know."

    "You don't say," she flung back. The witch had some sass.

    "Yeah. I was about to kill some guys, wanna-be big shots, you know, and then this bitch just came and sucked me into this urn. Bit of a curse of my species, susceptible to the old urn trick."

    "Uh? huh?" she nodded.

    "So, uh, do you think you could open the lid up and get me out?"

    "Well, uh, maybe, with counselling, and- no. I'd say no," Willow jibed. What a cold, cold bitch. Sigh.

    "Well, do you think you could at least tell me what's been going on in the world? What year is it?" I asked, getting myself dejected.

    "It's the start of 2004," Willow stated.

    "Wow. The time does go. I've been in here since, I don't know, 2002?"

    "Wow." Yeah? I said that already.

    "Anything else going on?" I asked, in desperate need of more company. Otherwise I'd go insane? you know, if I wasn't already a crazed killer-demon.

    "Well, last year I did a spell that made, like, hundreds or thousands of girls around the world into Slayers?" Willow smiled half-heartedly at me and shrugged. Oh. My. God.

    "Well, thanks," I sighed sarcastically, "makes corporealism such a hoot."

    "At least you're in your genie bottle!" the witch perked.

    Yep. The big upside. Somebody just kill me.

    Maybe she noticed me glaring. Or maybe it was my hands making a little strangling motion on my lap. I tried to hide it. I did. But witches, you know, they see things that normal people don't.

    "You know, I think I'm gonna go?" she asserted, uneasy once more. As I opened my mouth to protest, ready to argue that she was all the company I might ever have for eternity, that she and I could really be hitting it off, that I would miss her charm and personality, that I felt she suited me like a beautiful soul mate, that her hair was the golden red shade of salvation, that my skin could be fixed with some great cream? she poofed away in a swirl of energetic dancing dust.

    **** me.

    I'm alone? in an urn.

    Someone rub the bottle. I'll give two, maybe even three wishes? I promise. Just someone, please, open the bloody lid!

    "Or at least bring back Willow for a chat," I sighed.
    Last edited by Kold; 22-11-07, 01:06 PM.
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