Thursday, 27 April 2017

The Genie of the Pub

For audio click here
It’s a kinda magic, sang out from the speakers as Willie walked into the pub.
“Pint of Stella, please,” he said to the barmaid.
“Certainly, good day?”
Willie grunted, picked up his pint and headed to the corner far away from any conversation.
You’re my aye aye aye aye aye, you’re my favourite waste of time.
Willie stared at the speakers.
“Queen, Owen fucking Paul? Have we gone back to the fucking eighties?” he mumbled and took a slurp of his pint.
“Snooker on the fucking television, a Tory landslide on the cards, shite music, the only thing that isn’t the eighties about this place are the bloody prices.”
“You, my friend, need to cheer up.”
Willie looked up and saw a small man sitting at the table with him. “Who the hell are you?” Willie said.
“Oh, just a friend,” said the man.
Willie didn’t like the bloke’s voice, he sounded like he’d just inhaled some helium. “I came in here to get some peace and quiet,” Willie said.
“Well, how about I grant you three wishes, one of those could be peace and quiet forever.”
“Ha,” Willie gave the little man one of his stares. “Who do you think you are? A genie? I don’t remember rubbing any magic lamps.”
“We don’t all live in lamps, you know.”
“Look sunshine, my name’s not Aladdin, I don’t believe in Genies and I don’t believe in three magic wishes. I just want to enjoy my own company.” Willie thumped the table and beer escaped from his glass. He picked it up and took a swig, dripping beer onto his trousers.
“You know you shouldn’t be so narrow-minded,” the little man said. “What harm can making a little wish do?”
Willie looked around for the hidden cameras.
“I wish you’d fuck the fuck right off,” Willie said.
With that the little man disappeared right before Willie’s eyes, leaving just a small cloud of smoke where he’d been sitting.
“Oi, no vaping in here,” the barmaid cried.
Willie realised his first wish had come true. But the genie was nowhere to be seen, so there was no way to cash in the other two. 

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