“Well, that’s what you are getting today for your breakfast,” he said while sliding the bowl of oats towards me.
“Well, that’s what I
am not eating today for my breakfast,” I said, sliding the bowl back across the
table to him.
“You know there are
children in the world dying of hunger. And here you are, saying no to high
quality nutritious food,” he slid the bowl back to me.
“A classic. Be a
better man… er… or whatever you are, then? Serve these oats to those hungry children,”
I refused to touch the bowl. “You know there are also some kids in the world eating
chocolate frosted sugar-bombs for breakfast. And here you are, asking me to
eats oats for the second day in a row. You should have thought of these things before
bringing me here.” I threw my hands up in frustration.
“Look. For the last
time, I am not the one who brought you here, okay? Not out of my will for sure,”
he snapped a finger and my bowl of oats turned into a plate with a burger and
fries.
“Cool!” I grabbed the
burger and took a bite. “And sorry. I know you didn’t bring me here. I won’t mention
it again. For some time at least.” This food is delicious! “Oats and now this. You
need to learn how to maintain a balance while dealing with 12-year-old kids. Dad.”
I smiled while looking at him.
“Stop calling me that.
I am not your father,” he snapped at me with a hint of anger. “You know I can
vanish your plate too? Or turn it into good old puri sabzi?” he smiled with
a hint of mischief and then continued, “As soon as your mother traded you, your
well-being became my responsibility.”
“No puri sabzi
please! And you happen to be a people pleaser. Can I get a Coke to go along
with these? Besides, do you realize the stupidity of what you two did? You took
a child away from his mother only to grant her a wish and now you are worried
about my well-being. Well, genius, a kid’s well-being is with his parent!” I was
thoroughly enjoying the fries.
While he kept looking
at me – either in surprise or immersed in deep thought – I couldn’t tell, but
my mind again went back to how absurd my mom’s entire deal with Mr. Genie was. All
she wanted was to get rich and, the ease with which she just handed me over to
him, was honestly hurtful.
Today began my second
week with Mr. Genie. I was still thinking about the Coke when he said, “I am
bound by my rules!”
“And I am bound by my hunger,”
I said smiling between bites.
“Tantrums all the time.
But I know you’re quite happy here,” he looked at me intently.
“Well, you rescued me
from the evils of my existence. It also helps that you live in a palace. How is
that Coke bottle looking?” I asked trying to hide my thoughts about my previous
life.
“No Coke in breakfast.
And I heard that you’re talking about me to your friends as your Cool New Genie Dad.
Not cool at all,” he said firmly.
“It was a joke. Nobody
is coming to you with a wish. None of my friends have kids you can snatch
anyway,” I replied.
But the fact was Mr. Genie made a perfectly good dad. He was caring, he listened to me, and most importantly, I trusted him never to give me away in exchange for anything.
And
then it struck me. What if I suggest my friends to talk to their
parents about a deal that could get them all rich?
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