“Lydia is sick of bananas and if the truth be told, I am, too.”
He muttered something vile.
Theodore shifted closer to her and tugged on her skirt. He whispered rather loudly, “Why is Hank’s face so red?”
“He’s just hot, Theodore.”
“You’re damn right I’m hot!”
“Please stop shouting and swearing.”
“Like hell I will!”
“I wonder if the genie in the bottle is hot,” said Theodore. “I didn’t ask him. I should’a asked him.”
“Yes, Theodore, that’s nice,” she said with a cursory glance. “But right now Hank and I are having a discussion.” She turned back to Hank “You’re behaving poorly. I just used a little whiskey for a better purpose.”
“Little? This bottle is empty!” Hank tipped it upside down and shook it. “Empty!”
Theodore moved to stand between them and held up the silver bottle. “My bottle’s not empty. It has a real honest-to-goodness genie inside. Wanna see?”
Margaret didn’t pay any more attention to Theodore than Hank did. They were locked in a battle, and Margaret didn’t want to give in anymore than he did. Hank could be stubborn. She could be persistent. “Yes, well, I wasn’t certain how much of those spirits I needed,” she said.
“I had my own use for those spirits.”
“So I saw last night.” She looked him square in the eye, knowing her tone left no doubt as to what she thought of his drinking. She waited, then added, “My use is more logical and of benefit to all of us. I’m certain that if you would just stop shouting long enough to actually think about it, you’d find my use of that liquor logical, fair, and equal.”
“You think too blasted much.” Hank began to pace and muttered something about driving a man to drink.
“I could wish for something to drink,” Theodore said, still holding up the bottle so one of them would look.
Margaret crossed her arms. “There’s plenty of water.”
“The genie gave me three wishes. Real wishes.”
“There’s no one named Jeannie on the island, Theodore. No matter how hard you wish for it.”
“But I found a genie in a bottle! A real genie!
Look!” He pulled the stopper out of the bottle, and a cloud of bright purple smoke billowed out in a spiral. The clearing was suddenly silent.
In the distance, waves still washed the shore and the seagulls cried out, but those sounds were continual. Utter silence between the castaways was not.
Purple smoke flowed upward from the mouth of the silver bottle the way one imagined a ghost would materialize. It curled and wound upward, then seemed to flow in a circle above them like a hawk circled for food.
Margaret and Hank exchanged a stunned and wary look. Lydia gasped, and Theodore jumped up and down, saying, “See! See it!”
The purple smoke spread out like a fan, then drifted to the ground where it billowed, then faded slowly.
“What the hell?” Frowning, Hank stepped closer. Margaret hugged Annabelle a little tighter. She stared at the smoke, then at the odd image before her. And she whispered, “Oh, my God...”
* * *
Muddy stood in the open,outside his bottle. But he was unable to see anything with the hookah on his head. Well, he thought, this ought to be interesting.
A woman screamed, “No, Hank! Not the knife!”
Muddy screamed. “Knives? Where?”
