"So that's three wishes," the genie said. "Here are the rules:"
From the pockets of her balloon trousers she pulled out a scroll and half rim reading glasses. Her dark hair was pulled back neatly with a tie. I wish my hair would behave so well, I thought, as I wrapped one of my curls around my fingers.
"One. You may not wish for more wishes. Or more genies, or more magic lamps.
"Two. Your Wishes may not affect wishes, genies or magic lamps.
"Three. Recursive, self-referential, or 'meta-wishes' are prohibited."
"I wish you'd chill out," I joked.
"That's a violation of rule two. Wishes may not affect genies. You now have two wishes left. If you'll let me finish,
"Four. Breaking rules may result in wishes being wasted."
"So, I can wish someone dead, as long as it doesn't affect genies or wish-logic?" I asked wryly.
"Yes. Genies are not arbiters of ethics. Experience shows, however, that wishes based on revenge or hatred seldom result in a happy wisher. Wishes intended to please loved ones or acquaintances tend to bring the most happiness."
"Hmmm... I thought most wishes were selfish. Tell me, if I wish for money, would there be some weird consequence? You know, I gain a million euros and then get hit by a bus?"
"No, wishes are interpreted simply."
"OK then, I wish to win the next Euro Lotto jackpot."
"Done. You have one more wish."
"Well, how about this: would you go to dinner with me, say Saturday night?"
"That's a violation of—"
"No!" I interrupted. "It wasn't a wish. I'm asking you out."
"That's most irregular. Especially mid-wishes."
"Fair enough. I have my last wish. I wish for a table for two at Chez Geneviève, this Saturday night, say, 8 o’clock?"
The genie blushed, a hint of purple in her blue cheeks.
"Done," she said. "I'll see you there."
