Marvin trudged over the icy trail toward his cabin. It was a slow, slippery, uphill climb against the biting arctic wind. His down parka and fur-lined hood kept his body warm but his huge, round face had icicles dripping from his brown mustache and gray-streaked beard. Keeping his head lowered toward the nearly hidden path helped; not much, but it did somewhat protect his bulbous nose and fat, hairy cheeks from the icy wind. Snot froze in his nostrils.

His goggles steamed over. He loudly swore a string of obscenities into the storm and wiped the plastic lenses with his gray mittens. Marvin felt he would be able to reach the door without another fall. As he neared the hand hewn stairs, something glimmering in the snow bank distracted him.

He stumbled, slid on the slick surface and landed on his huge butt. He swore profusely, causing his face to glow crimson. When he completed his tirade, he glared at the odd shaped, metal cylinder that was responsible for his fall. He staggered to his knees, stood on unsteady legs and plodded a few strides to examine the object more closely. After some scrutiny, he decided the thing looked like a brass lantern; those he had seen in the movies and on TV; a lamp out of which pop genies.

He picked it up, tucked it under his arm and made his way up the creaky stairs. Suddenly Marvin became lightheaded and nearly fainted. He dropped the lamp and held onto the porch pole, stabilizing himself from falling. He inhaled deeply to clear his brain but the icy air made him cough, sending hot steamy puffs into the night's chill.

As his breath and senses returned, he let loose with another tirade of swearing at the storm, the wind and the frigid air. Most of all he cursed his own head for having become surly.

When he finished swearing, he opened the cabin door and shut out the stormy night. Marvin tossed some kindling onto the smoldering coals inside the iron, potbellied stove. When the dry wood blazed, he added logs to increase the fuel then slid the door closed. As the stove emitted warmth, Marvin removed his mittens and held his knurled, frostbitten fingers close to the heat.

While rubbing his beefy palms together, he smiled for the first time all day. When the heat had released the stiffness in his hands, he took the four short steps to the cupboard and removed a large opaque bottle. He swallowed quick gulps of the strong liquid to heat his innards then stepped to the hand hewn, wooden table and plopped into one of the two chairs he had made from dry pine logs. His weight squeezed more stuffing from the holes of the rat-torn cushion. He drank another long swallow of booze, wiped his moustache then picked the remaining icicles from his beard.

With the small, one-room cabin well heated, he removed his coat and put it over the back of his chair to drip dry. Marvin scratched a strike-anywhere blue and white-tipped match and put the flame to the kerosene lantern on the corner of the table. The room glowed eerie with the yellow flickering light.

He scrunched his eyes tightly closed, clasped his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. Suddenly he popped them open as he recollected the brass fixture he had dropped outside on the porch. Ponderously he rose, opened the door, grabbed the lamp and quickly bolted the door against the whistling wind.

He put the brass lantern on the table and rubbed his palms to erase the chill.

Martin stared at the foreign object. He gawked at the nearly invisible engraved pictures of camels, herdsmen and date palm trees covering the round base and tapered body. He marveled at the etching of clouds covering a brilliant, yellow sun, dazzling against the tarnished, brassy drabness because it appeared to be made of polished gold.

Marvin turned the lamp around by its curved handle and studied the opposite side. Here he saw engravings of beautiful, busty, gossamer pantaloons-covered, veiled women in various poses of sensuality. He paused because he had not been with a real woman in nearly three months, not since he had last gone to town. She had been a stranger passing through and before her, it had been nearly a year.

God, how he desired sexual release. It burned in his brain, it burned in his loins and it burned in his genitals nearly constantly.

Hermits are like that; alone, away from humanity and for Marvin it was a very lonely existence. But he had chosen to be high in the mountains, apart from civilization living off the land, poaching as necessary, fishing when the weather permitted, with a rare trip to town for staples and a few beers.

"Damn, I wish I had a woman that looked like her." He spoke aloud to himself. "If life hadn't been so shitty, I would be wealthy, a man of leisure and I would have all the women to satisfy my intense sexual appetite. Yes, sir, if only life had been fair to me, I would be eating like a king. I would be drinking fine wines, not this rot-gut gin." He drank another swig from his bottle, then brought the kerosene lantern close to the exotic lamp. Still unable to make out the drawings, he picked up the brass and brought it closer to his eyes.

He became faint as he had done outside. He dropped the lamp to the table and reeled in his seat. The lightheadedness passed.

Marvin swore more like a sailor than a backwoodsman, then puzzled over the lamp. He was poor but not stupid nor uneducated. He had finished college with a degree in economics before he had been called to duty and had served in 'Nam. His money came from disability checks.

He held the lamp close to the lantern and saw tiny Arabic letters on the round bottom just above the curved base. He had no idea what these words were. "Damn, I wonder what this says?" he muttered then felt airy again.

He put the lamp down and the unpleasant feeling vanished. "Every time I hold this thing, I get dizzy. Hmm, wonder if this is a magic lamp. Maybe there's a genie inside," he mused, half in jest.

Marvin put one hand on the lamp's handle and rubbed with a mitten. Being left handed, the strokes were on the left side of the lamp. "Nothing," he groused but continued to rub anyway. "Now some of the metal's shiny. And, hey, I didn't get woozy."

He changed hands and eagerly rubbed the other side.

Marvin dropped unconscious to the floor.

When he awoke on his back and tried to move, a heavy pressure on his chest held him fast. Marvin was unable to see what restrained him as the room was filled with white smoke as if he were in a cloud. He did not cough, nor sneeze nor have to rub blurry, itchy eyes.

The air suddenly cleared, and had he not just awakened from a faint he surely would have gone unconscious because standing over him was a very large person wearing a pair of silver lame' bloomers held up by a red silk sash. This giant's upper torso was partially covered by a white, satiny, full blouse open just above the navel revealing black curly hairs over huge muscles. On top of its round head sat a silver turban wound around black, curly hair tied in a single braid cascading to his waistline. This man - or what appeared to be a man - stood nearly as tall as the cabin's slanted rafters and kept his bare right foot on top of Marvin's chest.

Surprisingly, Marvin had no trouble breathing from this pressure but he was nearly breathless from the sight of this personage. "Who... What are you?" he stammered with brown eyes as big as cow patties.

"Apprentice genie, Abdul Ali Nawaz Omar Shabaz Mohamed Sharif Bhatti Jabar Amed the third, at your service, Master." The booming voice shook the building like thunder. But, please, call me Amed. It's ever so much easier."

Marvin struggled to move but the foot remained firmly planted atop his hairy chest. "Where? Where did you come from?"

"The lamp."

"Of course, how silly of me." Marvin grinned sheepishly. "Rub the lamp and a genie appears."

"Since the beginning of time."

"Well then, let me up."

"No," Amed boomed.

"Let me up, please." Marvin smiled.

"Absolutely not."

"I demand you let me off the floor!"

Amed removed his foot and stood aside as Marvin staggered to his feet. "How come, at first, you refused me?"

"I am your servant, for the moment. Therefore, Master, I respond to your orders, not requests."

"This has to be a dream."

"Does it?"

"Aladdin's lamp and genies are stories, not reality."

"Not so, oh doubting Master. I assure you I am quite real. Touch me." The huge man offered his massive arm toward Marvin.

He reached out and tentatively placed his index finger on the hairy skin. It was soft and felt like a woman's thigh covered with black silken fibers. He stroked from the arm to the elbow then back to the top of the hand. He was amazed at the texture. Marvin noticed a very slight hint of mountain flowers in the air. His thin nostrils flared as he sniffed deeper. "Wow, you smell like a spring garden."

"Yes, Master."

"Hey, if you're a genie..."

"I am only an apprentice yet to become an eternal member of the Grand Exalted Nubian Imperial Engineers' Brotherhood For The Advancement Of Mortal Wishes. But Genies' Brotherhood does just fine."

"As an apprentice, do you grant wishes like I've heard?"

"To those who rescue me."

"Did I rescue you?"

"Precisely what you did when you took me out of the snow bank and brought me inside. I was suffering terribly from the cold." The entire cabin shook as Amed sneezed. The force of the wind blew Marvin's hair and beard momentarily horizontal.

A wry smile crossed Marvin's face. "Then you owe me!"

The genie sat lotus style on the rough wooden floor. His deep, nearly black eyes looked directly into Marvin's. "In a manner of speaking, I do owe you one."

"Manner of speaking or not. Is it one or more than one?"

"One what?"

"Wish, you dumb shit."

"Please, Master, do not insult me."

"How many wishes do I get?" demanded Marvin.

"Rescue of an apprentice genie can be one and up to three depending---"

"On what?"

"What the Royal Illustrious High Council of Grand Exalted Nubian Imperial Engineers' Brotherhood For The Advancement Of Mortal Wishes determines is appropriate for the rescue."

"High Council? What the hell is that?"

"Please, Master, do not swear."

"Sure. So what is this Royal Illustrious High Council of whatever it is?"

"They are the genie generals who establish the rules and determine when an apprentice, such as myself, can be promoted."

"Does granting wishes help your advancement?"

"Yes."

"What else moves you up the corporate ladder?"

"Patience, perseverance, performance."

Marvin glared at the intruder still unable to fathom just what was happening to him. He wondered if it was his mind playing tricks, the residuals of too much alcohol, too much drugs, not much sexual activity or too much alone time.

"Master, if I may say, it is none of those things."

"None of what things?"

"I am not in your mind nor from your use of alcohol, drugs or lack of partnered orgasms."

"Of course you're in my mind, how else would you have known what I was thinking!"

"Please, Master, do not raise your voice at me. It makes me most uncomfortable."

"You read my thoughts and I make you uncomfortable!" Marvin grabbed his bottle, put the mouth to his lips then put it down. He closed his eyes and thought this has to be from the P.T.S.D. he had sustained in 'Nam.

"Not so, Master. Unlike many others who served proudly, you do not suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"The hell you say!"

"I asked you not to swear."

"I must be crazy. You read my mind, tell me how to behave and say I'm normal?" he bellowed.

"In a manner of speaking, you are. You do not have P.T.S.D.."

"You're not only a genie but a doctor?" Marvin glowered, "I served in 'Nam and came back an emotional cripple."

"That is what you have everyone believing. But it is not so, Master." Amed sucked in what seemed to be all the air in the tiny cabin and did so in quick gasps. When it appeared to Marvin the genie was about to explode, he did. The giant sneezes blew like the gale outside, nearly knocking Marvin over. Amed wiped his nose with a silken handkerchief. "I apologize, but the long exposure to cold has apparently given me one, Master."

"Stop calling me Master. The name is Marvin."

"I am sorry Mas... Marvin but an apprentice must always address his subject as Master."

"For the moment I prefer you use my name, understand."

"Yes, Mas... Marvin."

"Now, what is this about my not having P.T.S.D.?"

"Oh, you were in Vietnam but never saw combat. Your tour was no longer than any single overseas duty but you did return emotionally disturbed. Not from the stress of carnage but from a C.O. who caught every one of your clerical mistakes and gave you precise discipline for it."

"They were only minor mistakes."

"And, it was all those drugs you used when you could."

"I never did anything but marijuana."

"Please, Marvin, it is not appropriate to lie to your genie. You used LSD, Mescaline, Peyote, alcohol and Quaaludes."

"So I did a bit of stuff, okay?"

"You returned to the states and pretended to have P.T.S.D. so you would get everyone to be sympathetic and of course not be obliged to work."

"Are you some kind of psychiatrist or a fucking fed?" Marvin drank from the bottle.

"Neither, I am your genie. You may command me as you wish for having rescued me from the frozen tundra. And please don't swear." Again Amed inhaled.

To Marvin it felt as if this huge genie was a giant vacuum cleaner about to suck his face off. The sneezes were as violent as the last and Marvin had to hold tightly to the table so as not to be blown into the wall. While Amed wiped his nose, Marvin pressed him, "Answer my question, 'how many wishes.'"

"I have to consult my superiors."

"Then hurry up about it."

"Yes, Marvin." The room filled with multi-pastel colored, mountain flower scented smoke. In an instant it vanished as did Amed.

In no more time than it took for Marvin to realize the huge man went with the smoke, than the room re-filled with the blossom's odor and colored clouds which rapidly dissipated.

The genie again stood inside the small cabin.

"Well, what did they say?" Marvin glared up at the giant.

"You are entitled to three wishes because of the great jeopardy I was in and the magnanimous way in which you rescued me. Further, they took into account your record as an American Veteran."

"See, I told you!" Marvin plopped pompously into his seat, closed his eyes while placing his hands behind his head. He thought about what he would most dearly want.

The genie listened to his thoughts but did not interrupt.

After a few moments, Marvin pounded the table and blurted out, "Make me the richest man in the world!"

"That I cannot do, Master."

"I told you to call me Marvin."

"That also, I cannot do."

"The Council?"

"Precisely."

"The no-name I can accept, but I want you to make me the wealthiest man on this planet."

"That is not possible. You see, if I were to make you the richest and another genie were to be given a similar request, well, you can see the conflict, so it obviously cannot be granted."

"Yah, there can't be two wealthiest in the world."

"Absolutely."

"Then make me filthy rich."

"That I can do."

"And grant my wish to have enough women to fulfill my every sexual want. Women who can satisfy my longstanding need for carnal pleasures. Women of all shapes and sizes who are specifically at my command for reduction of my burning desires. And my last wish is to live forever."

"That also I cannot do."

"Why not?"

"The Council."

"But living forever wouldn't affect someone else's wish. We could both live eternally."

"Master, at some point the sun will burn out, the earth will grow cold and barren and there would be no living things except you and the other forever livers."

"Ahh, I see what you mean. Not a good idea. Well then, can I live a long time?"

"Let me consult with my elders."

The room filled with multi-pastel colored smoke, the aroma of fresh cut mountain flowers and in an instant the room was clear and Amed gone. After another moment, everything reversed and the genie stood in the center of the small room. "The Royal High Council of Grand Exalted Nubian Imperial Engineers' Brotherhood For The Advancement Of Mortal Wishes has unanimously agreed to grant you life for another seventy-seven years."

"Hot shit! I'll be one-hundred and eleven."

"You are sure those are your three wishes?"

"Yes. I am absolutely certain."

"Take your time, Master. Take your time, I admonish you."

"What I want is to be very rich, live a long time and have as many women as necessary to fulfill my burning sexual appetite. Can't you see, genie, I'll enjoy all the finest foods and wines from around the world. Buy palaces, spend time with important people and for once in my life be truly happy."

"As you wish, Master."

The cabin filled with ebony smoke smelling of fire, brimstone and fresh plaster.

After a moment, this blackness was gone and Marvin sat in a red silk cushioned chair surrounded by naked women of all sizes, shapes and colors. Before him was a spread of food and wines fit for the most discerning of connoisseurs. His cabin had been replaced by a sumptuous mansion on top of the mountain.

Marvin gawked at his new surroundings, rubbed his scruffy beard and gloated. He had it all; money, women and a long life. He settled into his overstuffed easy chair and waved for one of the formally white-dressed waiters.

This young man was immediately at his side.

"Bring me some of that gray stuff."

"The pate', sir?"

"Yah, and some of that bird."

"Pheasant under glass?"

"Yah, and a glass of wine."

"Any special one, sir?"

"The best, the very best."

"Immediately sir." The youth quickly obeyed and returned with a silver tray containing the food and a glass of white wine.

Marvin sipped and ate slowly at first then gorged himself with oral pleasures.

Amed appeared before Marvin.

"Everything to your satisfaction?"

"So far."

The genie placed his index finger upon Marvin's shoulder. "I am pleased, Master."

"So am I. So am I." Suddenly Marvin felt faint but before he could swoon, he threw the genie's arm aside and regained his senses. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he yelled. "You bastard, you're not going to cheat me!"

"No, Master. You have your wish of wealth, women and long life."

"Then why did you touch me and make me feel faint?"

"The Council, Master."

"The Council. The Council. The hell with your Council."

"Not wise to be ungrateful, Master."

"They gave me everything I ever wanted, so they aren't important anymore."

"The wise men knew you would behave this way, so they gave me instructions which I have just followed."

"Instructions what instructions?"

"Patience and you shall see." Amed disappeared from the great hall leaving Marvin with his food, his women and his wealth.

Before Marvin could eat another bite his stomach began to ache. Inside he had this huge burning sensation. He yelled, "Get me something for my stomach."

Two servants left and returned with trays filled with various anti-acid tablets and liquids.

Marvin drank a bottle dry and chewed on three tablets. After awhile the burning vanished and he began to eat the pheasant. The pain in his stomach immediately returned.

The servants offered him selections from the trays of anti-acids.

He chewed and swallowed. The discomfort left.

One bite of rich food and more anti-acids. A pattern developed; bite, followed by anti-acid followed by bite.

Marvin's string of obscenities was longer and louder than he had ever bellowed.

When he was finished, he looked at the lovely ladies each more appealing than the next. Finally he selected a tall, slender woman with flowing black hair.

She moved forward.

Marvin watched as she walked sensuously toward him. The burning in his groin eased then vanished similarly to the anti-acids' removal of his stomach's burning. He felt absolutely no desire for a sexual encounter. He shoved her away.

"Genie," he shouted. "Amed, you bastard!"

The huge apparition instantly appeared in front of him as the blossoms' scent and smoke vanished. "Yes, Master?"

"What's going on? First, I can't eat without pain now I have no desire for women."

"It is the Council."

"Damn, the Council! I wished for wealth, long life and women to satisfy me sexually."

"You have all that, Master. You are very wealthy and I assure you, you will live to be one-hundred and eleven."

"With heartburn?"

"Always."

"And the women?"

"Well, like you wished, as many as you need to satisfy your sexual desires."

"But I have no sex drive."

"The Council looked unfavorably upon your swearing and your ingratitude. Enjoy your long life. Goodbye, former Master."

There was black smoke and the smell of brimstone. There was a far off burst of sneezes, then in another moment, Marvin was left in his huge mansion with no women as he had no need for them and no great foods or wines only trays of anti-acids.

He did live to the ripe old age of one-hundred and eleven.

Marvin learned, the words that come out of your mouth precisely affect your life.