Wishing is supposed to be the easy part...

“Jonny?” I heard Travis call out.

“Here!” I yelled back, even though I had no idea where here was. Wherever it was, it was cold and seemed to be getting colder. I dropped to my knees and felt around. The floor seemed to be made of metal, cold and hard, and there were no walls in reach.

“Jonny, if you’re hiding in the dark to jump out and scare me, I swear I’ll hit you with this broom full of spider boogers,” Travis warned. I couldn’t see him, but I imagined him swinging the nasty broomstick in front of him.

I tried to answer him. “No, I—”

But he was talking over me. “Where are you, Jonny?”

“I think—”

He did it again. “Damnit, Jonny. It’s not going to be funny when I clean out your ears with this broomstick!” He was definitely annoyed, and I could feel his dread of someone—me—jumping out of the dark. Travis might be a big guy, but he had his fears—like spiders.

And he couldn’t hear me, I realized. I was a lot more alone than I had thought. I almost broke down crying, and I might have done so if the cold of the metal floor hadn’t got to me. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around me. No wonder I was cold, I thought, I’m naked! How did that happen?

I tried slapping myself to warm up but apparently that only works in books and movies. Slapping yourself really stings when your skin is cold, and it’s definitely no substitute for getting warm.

Crawling around on my knees, I kept looking for a corner or something in the featureless darkness, and eventually, I blundered into a wall, of sorts — at least a place where the floor bent up to become a vertical side. It struck me that I was inside the lamp, it would explain the metal floor. If so, I must be about one-inch tall, I realized.

I choked on a sob. How did this happen? How long would I be in here? In stories, genies in lamps complained about being imprisoned for hundreds of years. I didn’t think I would last that long. It was too cold, and I was already losing my grip on my sanity. And I wasn’t a genie. Was I?

Genies were immortal or at least lived for very long times. Assuming they were real, which given my predicament seemed less like an assumption. But I was an ordinary mortal. If I didn’t get out of here in a short while someone would likely find my corpse eventually, like a cricket in the bottom of an empty Pepsi can.

I could still hear Travis blundering around in the spooky old basement with his flashlight and his warm jacket and gloves. “Jon-n-ny-y!” he called. Then I heard him say, “Here’s that lamp he was talking about. Huh?”

I had been trying to look inside the lamp when everything went dark. I was inside the lamp—could Travis get me out? I tried calling to him again, but he didn’t seem to hear me. Of course, if I was inside the lamp, I must be about the size of a cricket, no wonder he couldn’t hear me. Pinocchio didn’t listen to his cricket and Travis wasn’t listening to me.

I thought about trying to make more noise, maybe banging on the wall or, or rubbing my legs together. Rubbing my legs together? Did I mention that I thought I was losing my mind?

Travis, it must be Travis, made humming noises, and I felt whatever it was I was standing on move. I dropped to a sitting position on my heels and cried out again, useless as all the other times. “Travis! Travis! Help me! Get me out of here!” I called, but he still couldn’t hear me. “Oh, please, please,” I begged. “I’ll do anything if you just get me out!”

I heard the sound of friction, and the wall beside me vibrated. Was Travis rubbing the lamp? “Wouldn’t it be something if it really was a magic lamp?” he mused.

“It is!” I chirped. “It’s a magic lamp, and it’s got me! I think I might be inside. Get me out of here, Travis!”

More humming. Travis couldn’t carry a tune in a dump truck, so all his humming sounded the same. Then I recognized the rhythm—the theme song for that TV show about the genie and the astronaut.

He laughed suddenly. “In the show, it’s a bottle,” he said. “But genies come in lamps, too. And if any lamp should be a magic lamp with a genie inside, this one is old enough and funky enough. Hah! Wouldn’t that be something?”

“Travis? Travis? I’m inside. I’m inside. If I’m a genie now, I’ll grant you wishes. Anything you want, I’ll do it. Just get me out.”

“Jonny!” Travis called out again. “You better come out of wherever you’re hiding! I’m about to rub the lamp and make a wish—you wouldn’t want to miss that!”

“Yes!” I shouted. “Rub the lamp and wish me out of here!”

But Travis had gone back to mumbling to himself. “If this were a magic lamp, I could rub it and make a wish. I know what I would wish for,” he said.

I felt the space around me vibrate. “Travis? Do it! Do it! Make the wish!” I tried calling out one more time. “Anything! Anything! If I can do it, I’ll do it!”

Travis took a deep breath and in a dramatic voice straight out of some old movie announced his wish. “I wish I had a beautiful sexy genie to grant me more wishes and fall in love with me forever,” said Travis.

Wait. What?

Suddenly there was light where I was, and I saw an odd-shaped volume with a brass wall next to me and a ceiling about ten feet above my head. Before I could react to that, a wind of incredible force came up from the wide end of the room. I could feel my body turning to vapor and being blown toward the more narrow end.

“Travis!” I screamed, scared out of my wits and hoping that this was rescue. And I knew right then that I loved Travis. Forever.