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“Oh. My. God,” she says slowly, enunciating every word.
“I am forever sorry, I could not -”
“This is so fucking cool!” she says, shooting forward and dropping to her knees. She grabs a handful of burgers and throws them into the air like confetti as they continue to rain out of the cabinet. One hits her in the face, and she laughs, while I use my powers to shut the door to prevent any more from assaulting her.
She snatches up a burger and tears open the wrapper, then takes a huge bite and moans, “mmmm, this is so damn good,” as sauce dribbles down her chin.
“Seriously, you’ve got to try one,” she says, holding one out for me to take.
Nobody has ever offered me anything before, and it stirs an unexpected feeling of warmth inside of me.
“Thank you, Bethany, but I do not eat.”
“Really? That’s gotta suck,” she says before cocking her head to the side and musing. “Although I guess you never have to worry about what to make for dinner.”
A laugh rumbles out of me, another unfamiliar feeling that I can’t remember happening before.
“Is deciding what to select for dinner troublesome for humans?” I ask, one of my thick black eyebrows raising as I find I’m genuinely interested in knowing the answer.
I’m not concerned about the behaviors of humans in general. Throughout the millenniums of my existence, I have witnessed them change and I do not care to keep up with their trends. But this human is different. She’s special, and I want to know everything about her.
“It’s the worst,” she says, wiping the corner of her mouth and licking her fingers clean.
“I was supposed to have chicken salad tonight, but who the hell wants salad when you’re drunk?”She giggles, before pointing a finger at me and saying in the most serious tone I’ve heard from her mouth so far. “Never go drinking with Nancy. She might be small, but she’s lethal.”
“I will take heed of this advice,” I say with a smile, before adding. “But just as I do not eat, I do not imbibe either,” I say, gesturing to my muscular, but semi-transparent body.
“Of course, you don’t,” she says, thumping her palm against her forehead and then laughing raucously again. “This really is the weirdest dream.”
“This isn’t a dream, Bethany,” I say, floating closer, wishing I could reach out and touch her so she would believe that I’m real.
“Of course it is. Genies aren’t real. My kitchen isn’t filled with burgers. I’m probably passed out on the couch or something.”
“That is not what is happening Bethany,” I sigh, a pain twisting in my chest when she continues to deny my existence. The happiness I felt from the use of my name and the offer of a burger means nothing if she doesn’t believe I am real.
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s a seriously good dream and I’ll definitely be sad when I wake up because you’re smoking hot,” she continues, leaving me confused as to why my temperature will be something she will pine for.
“I do not understand. Why do you consider me to be hot?”
“Oh, you’re one of those guys,” she snorts. “You want me to spell it out for you? Fine. You’ve got that whole huge muscles, square jaw, eyes that stare into my soul thing going on. You’re hot as hell.”
“Hot means handsome. Is that correct?” I ask, marveling at how humans change their language throughout time.
“Yeah, and don’t act like you don’t know it. You’re shirtless for fuck’s sake. You’ve got to be pretty confident to be flying around in just a skimpy little satin belt,” she says, and a roar of laughter launches out of me.
“I can manifest in any form. I am glad the one I have chosen pleases you,” I say, folding my arms over my chest and shamelessly making my muscles swell.
“Props to you. If I could manifest in any form, I’d choose to be really hot too.”
“You are already perfect,” I say, but instead of appreciating the compliment, she just groans.
“Ugh, of course a hot guy in my dream would tell me I’m perfect,” she says, flopping backward onto the huge pile of burgers. “And now I’m horny, but you don’t have a dick, so it’s not like I can even get laid in my dream.”
I am about to correct her yet again, that this is not a dream when suddenly she sits bolt upright, her soft waves bouncing around her shoulders.
“I know what I want for my second wish. I want a vibrator. The combo of whisky and your body has given a girl some serious need, so I may as well have a dream where I cum,” she says, and I choke on air.
“Bethany, please do not wish for this. Wait until you are sober. This desire isn’t -“
