"Oh, come, now!" the djinn protested, looking somewhat hurt. "Don't look upon me as a stranger, I implore you! Until I grant your wife's wish, which automatically releases me, I'm practically one of the family."
"Not this family," I said sullenly.
Connie said, not displeased with all this, "Now, boys Let's leave this silly argument lie for a moment, while we consider the main question."
"What main question?" I asked-
"The wish, stupid, the wish!"
"Business, always business," the djinn said, gloomy once more. "Well let's get on with it then. The sooner I grant your wish, the faster I can take a powder. What can I do for you? Seeing it's you, it'll be a pleasure almost, despite my griping."
And he looked almost amiable, even indulgent.
Connie thanked him, but she was not to be hurried. She likes to talk over all sides of a question before acting, Connie does. In fact, she likes to talk, period. She sat there in the sand now, her hands absently caressing the satiny skin of her knees, the while a dreamy look came into her large turquoise eyes. And I knew that when she did speak at last, whatever it was she would say would be the end-product of no little musing and considered thought. And Connie has a talent for the bizarre.
The djinn felt this, too, I am sure. I confess to a feeling of no little apprehension as we both waited on the well known tenterhooks.
"You know," Connie began at last conversationally, "I've often read stories about people who'd released djinns from bottles, and it really does seem to me that they're incredibly stupid. The releasers, I mean, not the stories or the djinns or the bottles. For consider! What do the releasers do? Do they consider even the minimum of intelligence in selecting their wish for the djinn to grant? They do not!" She answered herself, before we could open our mouths. "They wish for some silly thing like a million dollars, or something like that."
"A million dollars is silly?" I croaked. "Well, now, here's news!"
Even the djinn looked somewhat taken aback. "I can think of sillier things," he said defensively.
"Well, perhaps a million dollars isn't so very silly," Connie hedged.
"You're tootin', baby," I said. "For a minute there I thought you'd gone crazy in a big way."
"But the point I'm trying to make is this," Connie went on, patient with my levity. "These people just wish for something sil— something like that, and they neglect to wish
DJINN AND BITTERS
27
for what seems to me to be the most obvious wish of all. One that should occur to anybody immediately, with little or no thought. Anybody, that is with even a grain of common-sense,"
I didn't get it. I don't think the djinn did, either, though he must have had his misgivings, for:
"Something tells me this wish is going to be a stinker," he said dolorously. "You should forgive the expression."
"Cheer up, man, for heaven's sake!" I barked. "What have you got to be bleating about? Have a thought for me! Allah only knows what Connie will wish for, and I've just elected to spend the rest of my Hfe with her."
"She makes you nervous, eh?" the djinn asked, with a trace of commiseration in his booming voice.
"Highly," I said. "Highly." I wiped the perspiration that had seeped out on my brow. "Now listen, Connie," I warned. "I can feel my arteries hardening by the second. All I ask is, if you love me, have a care what you wish for."
"There's nothing to get into such a turmoil and hurly-burly about," Connie said. "I'm merely going to wish a wish. A quite reasonable, logical wish that would occur to any woman. All the men who've opened djinn bottles, with all their fine masculine blather about logic, poor tilings, have never wished a wish like this."
THE djinn sucked air through his teeth reflectively. He said to me, "You take a woman, now. You never can tell which way she'll jump next."
"I need to learn about women from you?" I asked bitterly. **My life has been cluttered with 'em, clattered."
"Oh, it has, eh?" Connie said, sitting up straight.
For a minute I didn't notice the danger signal, but plunged on recklessly, "And haven't I driven behind them on the public highways, which alone would be educational enough?" I asked.
"I've made a mental note of all this, never fear," Connie said ominously. "Superior, beasts, men. Lords of creation. But
if they're so brilliant, why didn't any of them ever wish for a wish like this?"
I looked at the djinn. "Well, I guess we've postponed the evil moment as long as we could. Shall we proceed?"
"Where do you get that ve' stuff?" the djinn asked coldly, "This is my headache, just in case anybody rides up on a white horse to ask you. Well, I've tried to steel myself, so go ahead, Connie. I only hope I can stand it."
"Yes, dear. Tell us," I said.
" "Us/ " quoted the djinn witheringly.
Connie moistened her red lips with her little pink tongue. I waited, breath in abeyance. The sun shone, the sea smelled, the sand burned, just as I've told you. I was surely conscious.
Connie drew a deep breath. "Well, the wish is merely and simply this. I merely wish you to grant me all the wishes I wish to wish!"
in
THE djinn leaped like a startled gazelle. The howl he emitted was really ear-piercing. Almost could I find it in my heart to feel sorry for the man.
"I merely and simply say nix!" he bawled. "Good Gad! I never heard of such a thing! It's enough to make reason totter on its throne! It's unethical, that's what it is! It's unconstitutional! Why, it's—probably even communistic, even!"
He was waxing incoherent, and who could blame him?
"Oh, nonsense!" Connie said.
"I tell you I won't do it!" the djinn said with considerable asperity.
Connie's eyes narrowed until the irises were only slivers of turquoise beneath her breath-taking lashes. "Just tell me one thing, djinn. Do you or do you not positively have to grant me any wish I wish to wish?"
He couldn't meet her eyes. "I—I guess I do," he said reluctantly. And he murmured something else about an old Arabian law.
"Okay." Connie dusted her palms. "You heard me, bud. I wish you to. grant me all the wishes I wish to wish."
"I been takeaJ" moaned the djinn.
WEIRD TALES
"In any future battle of the sexes," Connie said smugly, "I give you both leave to remember this day."
"And rue it," said the djinn sadly. "Why, I'll be hanging around here forever, like a grape on the vine." And yet, despite his complaints, he must have felt an unwilling admiration for Connie, for he looked at me and said, albeit dolefully, "That's one smart-type tomato you got there, fella. Married to her, I'd hang onto my gold teeth with both hands, if I were you."
I had been considering Connie's wish all this while, and it seemed to me that even for her it made sense. I felt happiness and a deep contentment welling within me.
I smiled complacently. "It seems to me that this is between the djinn and you, Connie. I swear my nervousness is all gone. No need for me to get upset. No skin off my nose, that I can see. You ask me, I'm sitting pretty with a wife who can get me anything I wish for. I have only to relay them to her, and then—"
"You're babbling," Connie said, in an odd tone of voice.
This gave me pause. I looked at her. She was eyeing me in a very strange, reflective sort of way. Even the djinn must have noticed it, for he looked momentarily diverted from his own woes.
"One thing I can't stand," the djinn said, "is a winner who gloats. You're planning to give Pete his come-uppance, Connie?" I still didn't like that thoughtful look on Connie's face. I cleared my throat nervously. "I did something, maybe?" I asked. "I said something?"
"The time to train a husband," said Connie at a tangent, "is right from the very beginning of the marmge."
The djinn began gleefully snortling and snuffling to himself in a manner that I found altogether revolting.
"You have something in mind, Connie?" asked the djinn.
"Oh, nothing def
inite. But I do have a hopeful feeling that something about all this business will cause Pete more than a spot or two of mental anguish."
"Constance Bartletr," I said, aghast. I shivered. I must have known even then, in-
tuitively, that she was speaking with the voice of a prophet, and no minor one, at that. But what did I do?"
"Women have cluttered your life, huh? We can't drive, huh?"
She prolonged the "huhs" nastily like a cop in the movies giving someone the third degree. I can't say that I liked it.
Still it wasn't serious. I said, with somewhat more assurance, "Now honey. You know I didn't mean a thing by it. I was just—just being witty."
"Why didn't I laugh?" Connie asked reasonably.
I'm afraid the sound the djinn made at that could only be described as a giggle. A hoarse, muttering, mumbling, rumbling, rasping racket, if you like, but a giggle fat all that.
I withered him with a look before turning back to Connie. "This isn't like you, dear. Give me some sign that you forgive me."
But if I were attempting to appeal to her better instincts, she apparently didn't have any.
"You don't even begin to know what I'm like, but oh, brother! are you going to learn!" Connie said. "However, just to show you my heart's in the right place, would you like a drink?"
"I wish I had one right now," I said. And God knows I needed it.
Connie looked at the djinn. "I wish Pete could have his wish."
"Work, work, work," grumbled the djinn. "A body can't have a minute's rest." I felt something cold and wet in my hand. It was like touching a dog's nose unexpectedly in the dark. I looked down, unnerved.
IT WAS a crystal glass, its sides becomingly dew-beaded, its contents smelling delightfully of something pungently alcoholic. I blinked at it stupidly. There was a moment's pause while manfully I pulled together my reflexes, sadly scattered long since, before I could lift the glass to my lips and take a snort.
My Adam's-apple hobbled in delightful surprise. I rolled my eyes beautifully.
DJINN AND BITTERS
29
Scotch, by Gad! Good Scotch, too.
"How is it?" asked the djinn professionally, with the air of a man beginning to take a little pride in his work.
"Delectable, delectable!" I muttered absently, my mind spinning tike a waltzing mouse. I looked at Connie with awe. "You know, life could be beautiful, dear. I wish—"
"Don't go running a good thing into the ground," Connie warned maliciously.
My heart sank. She had not yet really forgiven me for my ili-chosen remarks about women. She was merely demonstrating her powers tantalizingly in a way to make them stick in my memory. To think that I thought then that the situation was grave! Had I but known, as they say in the mystery novels!
For worse was yet to come.
IT BEGAN at once with the flashing speed of an attack from a coiled rattlesnake. I was not forewarned. The thing was upon me before I knew it.
"Well," Connie said, rising, "I suppose I'd better go in and dress. It's getting late."
The djinn rose too, and hovered over her. This brought me up with a jerk.
"Where do you think you're going?" I asked him.
"Until I'm released, I have to hover at Connie's beck and call, don't I?" he whined.
"You don't have to hover at her beck and call while she's changing her clothes, oaf!"
"Did I make the rules?'* he asked me.
Connie giggled.
"Now, listen!" I said, dropping my glass as I scrambled hastily to my feet. "Now hold on here a minute! Connie! Have you taken leave of your senses?"
"Why, no." Connie paused, eyes demurely cast down, appearing to give this some thought. "I believe I'm in my right mind."
"You are like h— you are not in your right mind if you think for one minute that I propose to allow you to change your clothes in front of this—this—!"
"I can't spend the rest of my life in a Bikini bathing suit, either, can I?" Connie asked reasonably.
For the first time since I'd met him, the djinn looked completely happy. * 'You
know," he said, "there must be tougher ways than this of earning a living, at that. I take it all back."
The effrontery of the man! The effrontery of both of them, come to think of it!
"By Jupiter!" I cried. "This is insupportable! And on our honeymoon, too! Constance Bartlett, I positively forbid you—"
"Now, wait a minute," the djinn interrupted me smoothly. "There's no real need for all this heat and passion, this deplorable running off at the mouth. Really, I marvel at you, Pete! You, too, Connie! Where is the famous Bartlett logic, the Bartlett
"You mean?"
"I mean there's a very easy, simple, quick way out of this difficulty," the djinn said slyly. "Pshaw! I'm disappointed in both of you! Thinkl"
Connie looked wary, but I said recklessly, "Name it!"
"All Mrs. B. has to do," the djinn said, spreading his hands expressively, "is wish for me to go away from here promptly."
I would have leaped unwittingly at the suggestion, but Connie forestalled me.
"Oh-ho, no you don't!" she cried. "Was I born yesterday? Don't think you can teach your grandmother how to suck eggs, djinn! I should tell you to go away before I've even wished a single profitable wish! Get tost with that idea, chump!"
The djinn lapsed into sullen impotence. I groaned aloud in my frustration. We seemed to have reached an impasse.
IV
"OUT like many difficult problems, once -»-' attacked, the solution itself was so simple that it would have occurred to a Mongolian idiot.
"I'm-getting hungry," Connie said plaintively. "We can't hang around here all day. This discussion must end right now. I'm going up to the cottage and change my clothes, and I dare anybody to try to stop me!"
And this time she didn't wait for further argument. She trudged through the sand as swiftly as may be, the djinn hovering
WEIRD TALES
tenaciously and smokily above her, while I perforce brought up the rear of this weird caravan, moaning unhappily to myself, and grimly determined to leave neither of them out of my sight if it killed me.
But the sensibilities of even the most modest would never have been wounded.
In the cottage, Connie merely slit a hole in a blanket, slipped it eoshroudingly over her shoulders so that only her head protruded, and demurely proceeded to change her clothes within the shelter of its enveloping folds.
"Shucks!" said the djinn sulkily.
It had been shameful of me to suspect for even a moment that I couldn't trust Connie. Scarcely containing my relief, I went to change my own clothes. When I came out of the bedroom, dressed in slacks and sport shirt, Connie suggested we go down to the hotel dining room for dinner.
It wasn't much of a place, and Duncan Hines would certainly never recommend it, but as the French say, what would you? It was impossible to cook dinner in the cottage for, as Connie pointed out, the djinn was large and the cottage was small, and as a result he seemed to fill the place with smoke and fog,
"What do you think he's going to do to the hotel dining room?" I wondered.
"Don't cross your bridges until they're hatched," Connie said gayly.
"But how are we ever going to explain the djinn?" I wanted to know.
" 'Who excuses, accuses,' " Connie quoted airily. "We simply won't say a word about him. We can recognize him because we let him out of the bottle, but to anyone else he'll justiook like a mass of smoke or fog, for you'll have to concede that he isn't very shapely."
"Is that so!" roared the djinn, stung.
"So you see?" Connie said, ignoring his hurt. "We don't have to know any more about it than anyone else, do we?"
This was true enough, so I made no further demur.
Still and all, Tm afraid our entrance into the dining room was as unobtrusive as a platinum blonde at an Abyssinian hoe-down.
People started coughing and gasping, and waving th
eir hands in front of their faces, trying futilely to dispel the gray vapor that filled the place and seemed willfully bent upon choking them.
"Did you ever see such a fog?" they kept asking each other. They even asked us, thus confirming us in our belief that they suspected nothing.
I daresay we looked, to the naked eye, like a perfectly normal young couple, though closely accompanied by a persistent and overhanging thunder-cloud. However, its proximity to us, while mystifying, seemed to arouse no suspicion among the others.
We settled ourselves at a table, and looked about us, and I must confess that our hearts sank.
Connie regarded with a lacklustre eye the sagging walls, the splintered floor, the dirty streamers hanging from the ceiling in a ghastly travesty of gaiety. The orchestra, if such it could be called by courtesy, made weirdly unrecognizeable sounds and wheez-ings that only assailed the ear-drums, and the few couples circling the floor in some grisly gavotte of their own devising could best be described by saying that they were both elderly and unprepossessing.
Through the open French doors, flowers and vines had withered in the boxes allegedly decorating the dilapidated terrace, and the dusk outside seemed alien and unfriendly. Even the sea looked gray and sullen, and now that the sun had gone down, the sky was only a shade lighter than the water.
No setting for romance, this.
"Oh, I wish there was a beautiful moon, at least," Connie said wistfully, sighing. "A honeymoon, Pete, just for us."
It hung in the sky immediately, a great golden ball.
Connie apparently didn't see it at once, for her face was rapt with the picture she was blissfully regarding in her mind's eye. She went on, "And I wish these people were all young and handsome and beautifully dressed—"
They were. At once.
"—dancing to the strains of a wonderful orchestra—"
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31
The music was suddenly marvelous.
"—over a floor like satin, in a gorgeous room, hung with brilliantly-lighted crystal chandeliers!"'
The glare was blinding. Connie roused from her dream.
"Look!" I said needlessly.
For a minute she seemed nonplussed as she saw her vision of beauty had come true. And then she smiled, and said aloud, "Dear me, I keep forgetting! Thank you, djinn."
Weird Tales volume 42 number 04 Page 3
