Jeronimo’s Genie
Watch Jeronimo. He is seated at the foot of his bathtub, holding two ice cream cones in front of a large floating genie. Chocolate-vanilla smudges his mouth as the cones dribble down the sides of his hands and onto his sleeves. He wears a long-sleeved denim shirt that he thrifted at the Salvation Army earlier that day, along with a pair of Oakley sunglasses, cargo shorts, and a “cool-looking” antique lamp, from which the genie came.
“Are you resolute in your decision?” warned the genie, “For this is your last wish…”
“Yes. One more ice cream cone, please, chocolate-vanilla just like the last ones.”
“I give you one final caution. Perhaps another flavor, or type of ice cream, would appeal to you? Perhaps a life-time supply of ice cream, instead?”
Jeronimo licked his ice cream. “Nope. Just a chocolate-vanilla cone, please.”
“Very well…” The genie clapped, a puff of smoke flashed, and a third ice cream cone appeared on his lap.
“Thank you, Mr. Genie, sir.”
The genie faced him with crossed arms, floating.
“Is that all your heart desires? Have you no other wish?”
“Nah. Thank you.”
The genie waved his arms, casting a vision of Jeronimo seated on a throne, surrounded by gold and money, in the bathroom mirror.
“I possess the power to fulfill any desire your heart covets… riches… fame… power… all within your grasp. Yet you wish for not one, but three ice cream cones?”
“Yep.” Jeronimo licked his cone again.
The genie laughed and turned to the mirror again, casting visions of Jeronimo seated at the oval office, of Jeronimo on a yacht, of Jeronimo in a sports car. “Think of the boundless potential and be not hasty with your requests. I am a benevolent and loyal servant, ready to serve you. If your heart desires it, one more wish shall be granted unto thee.”
“Mmm…” Jeronimo tapped a cone on his chin. “I wouldn’t say no to another ice cream cone.”
The genie’s eye twitched. “Another ice cream cone, you say?”
“Yep. Chocolate-vanilla, please.”
“Is that your last request–?”
“Yes, yes, why do you keep asking that? Just give me my ice cream cone already. But put it in the bathtub, please, this last one got my pants all dirty. Okay?”
The genie rubbed his temples. “So be it…” Another puff of smoke, and a fourth ice cream cone appeared in the bathtub, upright and balanced.
“Nice placement, genie. It didn’t get all dirty like the last one.”
“Are you content, mortal? Does your heart overflow with joy? Have you found fulfillment?”
“Yep.” Jeronimo finished his first cone. “Ice cream’s great. Thank you.”
The genie floated about the room, rubbing his chin. “Perhaps you are presently bound by material desires. Understand that I may also grant you supernatural abilities.” The mirror started up again, with visions of Jeronimo displaying superhuman, of Jeronimo flying, of speaking with animals. “The avenues of possibility are endless… And in my boundless generosity, I offer you the opportunity for yet another wish.”
They locked eyes. Jeronimo picked up the melting cone from his lap and licked it, his sticky lips uttering, “One more ice cream cone, please.”
The genie grimaced.
“Next to the other one in the bathtub, again, please.”
The process continued, and the genie called upon every human weakness imaginable. He tempted Jeronimo with evermore creative and tantalizing possibilities. But again and again, Jeronimo asked for a simple ice cream cone in the bathtub. And the genie continued trying, even after Jeronimo stopped eating. A brown slop of soggy waffle cones and swirling ice cream stood before Jeronimo as he undressed himself, easing into the tub with a relieving sigh.
The genie scowled. “What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself!”
Jeronimo smirked at the genie, sinking further into the tub, blowing bubbles from his nose.
“The power you have forsaken, mortal!” The room filled with dark, thunderous clouds. “You could have wished for the tub of ice cream outright, you could have wished for all the ice cream in the world, it could have rained drops of vanilla, scoops of chocolate, hailed popsicles, thundered chilly sweetness, and you dare sully this opportunity with this—this—performance?!”
Jeronimo stared at the genie with a cold, distant smile and chuckled.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Genie, sir, it looks like I really made you mad, didn’t I?”
The genie looked away with his arms crossed.
“But I’m a little confused. Didn’t you say you were my loyal servant? When you explained the rules, you told me you were my servant and that when I asked for two more wishes, you said that it was not possible. So I wished for an ice cream cone.” Jeronimo slurped from the bathtub. “Tell me, Mr. Genie, sir, how could you be so mad? You granted me the wishes, and I told you what I wanted. I’m just a simple man from Fort Wayne, Indiana. My name is Jeronimo, named after the saint. And I just wanted an ice cream cone. Is it so bad that I wanted an ice cream cone, Mr. Genie, sir? Is it… Is it a crime to wish for an ice cream cone?”
The genie rubbed his temple with his hand and sighed.
“But if you really, really want me to wish for another wish, I’m sure I can just think of something.”
The genie froze and listened; his ears perked.
“But you need to promise that you can’t say no.”
The genie turned his head and side-eyed Jeronimo.
“Do you promise, Mr. Genie, sir, that you won’t say no?”
The genie nodded, with his back still turned.
“Do you cross your heart and hope to die, Mr. Genie, sir?”
The genie sniffled and nodded again.
“No takesies backsies, Mr. Genie, sir…”
“Speak, mortal!” The genie demanded.
“I wish for… I wish for…”
The genie turned and braced Jeronimo’s wrists, nodding. “Yes…”
“I wish for…”
“Yes… yes… go on…” The genie’s forehead pressed onto Jeronimo’s.
“I wish for…”
The genie looked into Jeronimo’s sticky mouth as he spoke, trails of sticky, creamy, saliva asputter.
“I WISH FOR INFINITE WISHES.”
And with a bend of the rules and clap of his hands, the room puffed in smoke, and Jeronimo’s wish came true.
Jeronimo drained the tub and scooped the cones into the garbage bin. He showered himself and washed his ice cream-smudged clothes at the laundromat down the street. He thanked the genie for his wish and put away the lamp on his shelf of collectible memorabilia, right next to his nunchucks and ninja stars.
Years passed and Jeronimo would check on the genie from time to time, usually when he was moving places of residence or when he had friends over; it was a pretty cool party trick, he would say. Upon his initial re-appearances, the genie would appear red, swollen, and angry, with swirls of black smoke and lightning shooting from his fingertips, but Jeronimo paid him no mind. The genie was his loyal servant.
At times, the genie would appear suave and sensual, appealing to and charming the guests. “Wouldn’t you like to see him try out a wish?” The genie would make suggestions to his friends, but Jeronimo was stubborn and would laugh off such requests, even when his friends would insist.
In later years, the genie attempted dirtier tactics, urging Jeronimo’s friends to reconsider their relationship with Jeronimo, calling it selfish for him not to share his infinite wealth and power with others. But Jeronimo would always say, “Oh, that crazy genie!” and laugh it off. He never made another wish.
Jeronimo grew old, living a healthy and carefree lifestyle, settling at Oak Meadows Senior Living in Oakdale, Minnesota. He would play bingo on Tuesdays and watch the telly with his friends Arnold and Tammy until joint pain and tiredness caught up and wrapped him in a warm, bedded blanket for most of the day. Jeronimo knew he would be gone soon, so he buzzed for the nurse and asked her to fetch him the golden lamp from the last shelf of storage locker #582.
“You can just put it on my lap. Thank you, Mrs. Nurse, ma’am.”
Smoke swirled from the lamp and filled the room with a sulfuric smell as Jeronimo rubbed the lamp. The genie emerged, looking down at Jeronimo with folded arms, indignant and silent. Jeronimo looked up at the genie and asked the nurse to give him some privacy to speak with his old friend. His voice was weak and shaky.
“Hello, Mr. Genie, sir.” Jeronimo chuckled and coughed. “Remember, I used to call you that back in the day? Those were the times…”
The genie stared in silence.
“I’m getting old now, Mr. Genie, sir… I’m sure you can tell I don’t have much time left on this great blue earth, but my time here was a good one, mhm.”
The genie’s gaze softened.
“I might even say it was quite a delicious life.” Jeronimo chuckled and coughed again.
Jeronimo rested his eyes, and the genie approached him.
“Your days upon this world soon draw to a close, mortal. Our contract will end, and I will be free once again.” Spoke the genie, “Out of all things, why did you only wish for one thing? Something so fleeting and easily spoiled… For millennia, I have tempted the hearts of men with desires that are vast yet comprehensible, attuned to the very essence of earthly desire. But this… I cannot understand it.”
“Well…” Jeronimo spoke while staring into the distance, “That’s what I wanted that day. Chocolate vanilla was always my favorite flavor of ice cream.”
A deep sorrow clouded the genie’s eyes. Jeronimo’s heart monitor beeped quietly in the background.
“I’ll admit something, Mr. Genie, sir. I had a lot of fun playing your little game.” Jeronimo nodded. “The wishing game…”
The genie cocked his head.
“An ice cream cone… well, an ice cream is something you always have just enough of. You can’t finish one without it melting and getting all over your fingers and making them all sticky. And then you make it two or three cones, well, that’s just too much ice cream. Way too much ice cream. Always. You know better than me, Mr. Genie, sir, that if I asked for money, it would never be enough money. I could have all the money in the world to buy ice cream and then say to myself, ‘dang, I really wish I would’ve wished for something else.’”
The genie stared at Jeronimo; his eyes were a deep blue color.
Jeronimo coughed and took a moment to collect his breath. He held up a shaky finger to the genie as he spoke. “You might think I’m dumb, Mr. Genie, sir, but I’ve read my comic books and watched my movies and I know you aren’t what you say you are, mhm. I know there’s always a catch, there’s always a catch.” Jeronimo smacked his lips. “I’d have wished for an infinite tub of ice cream and I would’ve drowned in it or got diabetes. I’d wish for money and lose my friends. I’d wish for a wife and I wouldn’t know what it was like to be in love. But I lived my life like a real American. I worked my job and paid my bills. I made my friends, and I laughed with them.” Jeronimo nodded and smiled, thinking of all the happy memories in his life. He turned to the genie pleasantly. “And you just wanted to hurt me, Mr. Genie, sir, I always knew that. You wanted to hurt me…”
The genie was silent, shrinking below Jeronimo’s shadow as the sun set across the window.
“You thought you could tempt me, but you never did!” Jeronimo laughed and choked again, sprinkling spit on the genie’s face. “Give me one more wish, Mr. Genie, sir.”
The genie’s eyes welled with tears.
Jeronimo whispered, “I wish for an ice cream cone in my hand, chocolate-vanilla, just like last time. You know just how I like it.”
The ice cream poofed into Jeronimo’s hand; the genie’s irises glistened, spreading wider and blacker until they showed Jeronimo’s reflection wishing for yet another ice cream cone, licking it and smacking his feeble lips; Jeronimo’s swan song. “I want one more cone, Mr. Genie, sir… just one more cone… just one more cone… just one more cone…”
