WISH FULFILLMENT
by Graveyard Greg
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * *
Wish Fulfillment
Copyright 2010 by Graveyard Greg
* * *
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
* * *
Thanks to Discobunny, Ptitefille, Durocpig, Joefriday, Darkwriter, Kbernold, Miranda, and Tachi for the extra set of eyes!
* * *
Special thanks to Ironraptor for the cover art. You rock!
* * *
"Are you really going to give me three wishes?" Caleb asked before taking a moment to clear his throat. He found it suddenly dry as he looked up, noticing the zebra's chest was obscured by a form fitting tank top with the phrase WISHES MAKE IT BETTER across the front.
The zebra adjusted the black leather bands around his wrists and peered down at Caleb through blue tinted oval glasses. "Grant."
"I'm sorry?" Caleb blinked in confusion. "Is that your name?"
The zebra rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "No. I said I'd grant you three wishes."
"So what's the difference between giving and granting?"
"Plenty."
"Oh." Caleb was sure there wasn't any difference at all, but he didn't press the issue any further. When Caleb's eyes dropped to the zebra's legs, he noticed those black vinyl pants that hugged the curves of his muscles thighs. With legs like that, it was probably in the lion's best interests not to do anything which might anger him. "So...what's your name?"
The zebra slowly folded his arms across his chest, watching Caleb like a child would watch an anthill. "You're a funny one," he finally said as a smirk grew on his muzzle. "No one's asked me that before." After a moment's pause, he added, "I don't have a name. None of us do."
That sounded peculiar to Caleb. "None of you do?"
"You pass the hearing test. Good for you."
Caleb ignored the sarcasm, trying to focus on the zebra's eyes and not those wonderfully sculpted biceps. "Don't you think that's odd, not having a name?"
"Not really," the zebra replied with a shrug. "We know who we are, but if it means that much to you, you can grant me a name."
Caleb blinked. "You want me to give you a name?"
"Grant. You can grant me a name." The zebra's eyes, which were of a color blacker than his stripes, narrowed slightly. "And it had better be good."
Caleb swallowed nervously to wet his still-dry throat. Why him? Why did he have to decide what to name this zebra? Naming was a process of going through a list and finally coming to a decision. Something he wasn't good at, not at all. And what was the big deal between give and grant? What difference did it make?
"It's not like I asked you to do something impossible," the zebra said after a minute of watching Caleb's indecisiveness. "You act like I asked you to figure out why people watch American Idol."
"Well, I watch it because--"
"I also didn't ask about your TV habits. Unless you've already forgotten, you're supposed to be granting me a name. Or are you all looks and no brains?"
Caleb was ready to give up and risk the zebra's continued scorn when the answer came to him like a thunderbolt. "Grant!"
The zebra nodded his head. "And he finally learns the difference between give and grant! I'd give you a cookie, but I'm fresh out of them."
"No, that's your name! Grant!"
The zebra rubbed his chin as he pondered the name, and Caleb couldn't tell which side the zebra was leaning towards. As the zebra continued his silent pondering, Grant found himself wringing his tail in both hands. Would the zebra like it? Would he hate it? Would he think Caleb was the dumbest, least creative lion on the face of the planet?
"I like it," the zebra said, and Caleb released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "I'd have bet you'd pick a name like Gene or something totally insipid." The newly-named Grant placed his hands on his hips, nodding firmly as if that sealed the process of naming. Who knows, maybe it did. "Okay, now it's time to lay down the ground rules."
Rules? What was Grant talking about? "Huh?" Caleb said.
"Very eloquent. I'm about to tell you the rules for making wishes."
"But I thought--"
"That you could wish for anything you want?" Grant continued without waiting for Caleb's reply. "Forget that little idea. There have to be rules for everything, and before you complain about that as well, I don't make the rules, Caleb, I just follow them."
The tone in Grant's voice implied further debate was not allowed, but Caleb was distracted by the realization that Grant was using his name. He didn't recall introducing himself, so how did the zebra know it? "How'd you know my name?"
"Simple, I looked at your driver's license." Grant held up the lion's wallet, which was of a thin brown leather design and had been in Caleb's back pocket. "Not a bad picture either." He tossed the wallet back to Caleb, who fumbled the catch. "Now, if you're ready, I'll proceed." Again he didn't wait for Caleb's reply, ticking off each rule with a finger.
"No wishing for more wishes; that's greedy, and I don't like greedy folks. No wishing to bring back the dead--you really wouldn't like the results. Very unpleasant. No wishing to kill anyone or anything; I won't even kill so much as a cold for you. No wishing for someone to fall in love with you; I'm not some diaper-wearing cherub with a bow and arrow."
The list went on and on. No wishing to change the past, no wishing to change one's status in life...it seemed that making a wish was more trouble than it was worth, so Caleb asked the most logical choice that would free him of the onus of deciding. "What if I don't want any wishes?"
The lenses of Grant's glasses darkened as he narrowed his eyes. "Tough. You're getting them anyway. You rubbed my container, and by law I'm obligated to grant you the three wishes entitled to you."
"But I was just polishing it," Caleb protested, his eyes darting towards the silver decanter he'd purchased at an antique store not one hour ago. He thought it would look good on his mantle. If he'd known what it had contained, would he have bought it?
"Ignorance of the law is no excuse," Grant replied with a smirk.
Caleb had been standing this entire time since the genie appeared, but now felt very weak all of a sudden, his mind spinning with all that had just happened. He sat on the sofa, running his hands through his mane nervously.
Grant, who didn't look weak at all, sat in the recliner across from the sofa. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone, "so how about you just relax and ask me anything you want to know? Let's get to know each other."
"I guess that would be all right," Caleb said, not certain if it would be all right.
"Trust me, it's perfectly all right." Grant placed his hooves on the coffee table that had moved over by itself to be in front of him. "So what do you want to know about me?"
"Are you really a...you know?"
"What, appearing out of a cloud of smoke wasn't enough?" Caleb smirked.
Caleb shifted uncomfortably in his seat. So much for relaxing. "But you're a zebra."
"And you're a lion. What's your point?"
"You don't look like...one of them."
"I don't like the Arabic look. Puffy pants and turbans don't cut it for me." Grant looked at his tank top. "But I think an open vest would look good on me, now that you mention it." He placed his pinky at the collar of his top, and as he dragged his pinky down the front, the garment split open, reweaving itself to become a black leather vest before Caleb's astonished eyes. "How do I look?" Grant asked, tugging at the vest, a satisfied smile on his muzzle.
Caleb stared at the cobblestone abs, absently licking his lips. Grant obviously didn't just sit around and do nothing while in his container. "You look great," he said.
"The secret to perfect abdominals isn't sit-ups," Grant said with a smile, "and you're not going to find out what it is." His eyes trailed down to Caleb's stomach, which had a bit of paunch that was visible even under his loose-fitting shirt. "You could use a hint I guess. Drink lots of orange juice."
Caleb's stomach suddenly growled as if in response to Grant's comment, though he didn't pay any attention to it. He liked the way he was, but he was still curious. "Orange juice?"
"That's what I said. You got a problem with drinking orange juice?"
"No! I like drinking it, but..." He patted his stomach, looking over at Grant with a grin.
"Well, I did say it was a hint. There's a lot more to it than just drinking some vitamin C. You given any thought to your first wish?"
Caleb's stomach growled again. He then remembered he skipped lunch, and since he still couldn't believe this was really happening, the lion too a chance. "I wish for the best French onion soup in the world."
Grant stared at Caleb for a second, and then said "Your wish is granted." On the table was a saucer and bowl filled with a dark broth topped with a perfectly melted gruyère cheese.
Caleb studied the spoon in his hand; had it been there all this time? Certainly not! He gave the layer of cheese a careful poke, the smell of it filling his nostrils. He took a spoonful of the broth, taking a careful sip so as not to burn his tongue. The flavor was delicious! He slurped up the soup, taking his time to savor the cheese, the broth, the bread. Before he knew it the bowl was empty, and he leaned back, completely satisfied and full.
As Caleb's enjoyed the soup Grant was quiet, taking a few bites of his vanilla ice cream cone that just appeared. It was only when Caleb finished the soup did he coolly ask "Was it good?"
"Oh, yes!" Caleb couldn't remember the last time he'd ever had something that tasted so exquisite.
Grant took the last bite of his cone. "Would you say it was the best in the world?"
Caleb nodded his head vigorously, grinning. "Yes it was!"
"Good, good. Can I ask you something, though?" Without waiting for a reply, Grant lunged forward, nostrils flaring in sudden outrage. "Why the HELL did you wish for something as STUPID as SOUP?"