“That’s when some marketing genius hit on the ‘Djin In A Bottle’ concept. Nearly everyone in the dimension who had the least skill or potential for magik was recruited for service. There was resistance, of course, but the promoters insisted it called for temporary contracts only, so the plan went into effect. In fact, the limited contract thing became a mainstay of the sales pitch . . . the mystique I was mentioning. That’s why most Djins have conditions attached . . . three wishes only or whatever, though some are more ethical than others about how the wishes are fulfilled.”
A thought suddenly occurred to me.
“Um, Kalvin? How many wishes do I get from you? Like I said, the Deveel was a bit shell-shocked and never said anything about limitations.”
“. . . On wishes or powers, eh?” the Djin winked. “Not surprising. Shell-shocked or not, Deveels still know how to sell. In their own way they’re truly amazing.”
“How many?”
“What? Oh. I’m afraid my contract only calls for one wish, Skeeve. But don’t worry, I’ll play it clean. No tricks, no word traps. If you’re only going to get one for your money, it’s only fair that it’s legit.”
“I see,” I said. “So what can you do?”
“Not much, actually. What I’m best at is bad jokes.”
“Bad jokes?”
“You know, like ‘How do you make a djin fizz?”
“I don’t think . . .”
“Drop him in acid. How do you . . .”
“I get the picture. That’s it? You tell bad jokes?”
“Well, I give pretty good advice.”
“That’s good. I think I’m going to need some.”
“I’ll say. Well, the first piece of advice I’ve got for you is to forget about this and head for home before it’s too late.” For a moment the thought was almost tempting, but I shook it off.