fiction

Gene in a Bottle

Tommy’s genie won’t grant love wishes. At least, not while he’s sober.

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The door slammed. She wasn’t coming back.

Tommy walked across the room to the cabinet. He could smell the whiskey before he even opened the drawer. Tommy grabbed the bottle, stared at it, and rubbed it.

Out popped a small man. He was the size of a baby doll, only he wore gold rings, earrings, and necklaces. His eyes didn’t stay still. He couldn’t walk straight. His hiccup echoed in the small apartment.

“Drunk again?” Tommy asked.

The small man stared back.

“Yeah, well, you never granted my wish.”

“I –” hiccup! “Told you I can’t m-m-make love wishes.”

Tommy smiled at the little man. “That was when you were sober.”

The small man squinted at Tommy. “Wait. Whaaaaaaaat?”

“For my second wish, I want you to make Isabella love me.”

“You know I can’t –”

“I said make her love me!”

The small man rolled his eyes. He started to point a finger at Tommy, but he began retching. Tommy handed him a trash can. The small man vomited. “Do you have Advil?” he asked.

“I will when you grant my wish, Gene,” Tommy replied with a smirk. “I know you hate me calling you that, genie.”

Gene shrugged. “You won’t like the consequences of this wish.”

“Do it.”

Gene snapped his fingers. “Your wish is my command.” He stared at the ground. “Done. Advil?”

Tommy walked into the kitchen, got a glass of water and Advil, and returned to Gene. Gene took the pills and a big sip of water.

“So?” Tommy asked.

“So what?” Gene asked.

“Get back in the bottle!”

Gene closed his eyes. “Please, not again, and you know I wanted to stop drinking–”

“I said go back in!” There was a knock at the door. Tommy turned, then looked back. Gene was gone. “Good.” Tommy moved to the door and opened it. It was Isabella.

She walked in and took Tommy’s hand. “Tommy, I know I walked out, but I realized, driving in my car, how much I love you.”

Tommy grinned. “Oh? What do you love about me?”

Isabella closed the door. “I’m not even sure, but it’s so overwhelming.” She jumped into Tommy’s arms and planted kisses all over him.

This is the life, Tommy thought. She was asleep next to him, and he remembered that his first wish had been to find the most beautiful woman alive, but Gene hadn’t mentioned that her love wasn’t included. Well, he showed Gene. He knew Gene had a problem with alcohol. Why else would the discount bottle at the liquor store reveal a genie? Though he looked more like a child’s toy.

“Tommy?”

“Want to go again?” he asked.

“I love you.”

“And?”

“I love you more than I love anything,” she whispered as she rolled onto him.

“So show me how much–”

“Here’s the thing. When I love something so much, I get scared.”

Tommy caressed her face. “I understand.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said in tears. “But I had to do it.”

Tommy’s hands fell. He looked at them, but they wouldn’t move. He couldn’t feel his feet. His breathing and heart rate were slowing. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“You may have heard of the Love Killer?” she asked. She put her hands on his head and made him nod. “Well, I’m the Love Killer.” She did a short bow, of sorts.

Tommy looked up, but his mind wasn’t working. He couldn’t keep a straight thought.

“So I put the toxin in your glass. It’s the easiest way. No pain.” She placed a finger over Tommy’s lips. “I do love you, and I can’t have that in my line of work.”

She lowered her ear to his mouth and listened. He was no longer breathing. Two fingers pressed to his neck confirmed it. No pulse.

Isabella shot up, got dressed, and put on dark red lipstick. One kiss on his cheek left her calling card.

On her way out of the apartment, she spotted the whiskey bottle and picked it up. Local. Good year. She would have to try it later.

She took the bottle and left Tommy’s body behind.

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