Day 11: Djinn Party

I had not needed this when I walked into the office today. I had just wanted to get through the day processing the latest set of “finds” my employees had acquired and tried to finagle them into some sort of useable state. Some state that might make a kid think there were other than the gaud they are and dream. Instead, I’d gotten an angry cloud that had resolved itself into an angrier man.

“Djinn parties do not happen every day. They do not happen every century! Not since the evil sorceress Esmeralda sealed us to our bottles. Have you ever tried to hold parties when you’re all stuck in individual tiny housing? Not conducive!

“Excuse me for not wanting to miss the first party in three centuries to grant your wishes.” He huffed the smoke expanding a bit about him. I bated it away from me.

His crossed arms, his sour expression and his obstinance reminded me far too much of my two-year-old nephew. All stubbornness and self-righteous indignation that how he saw the world was the only and correct way. “Djinns have to grant their masters wishes?”

The djinn snorted and nodded. “Yes. Such is the binding of Esmeralda. But having to doesn’t dictate when we have to.”

I blinked. And scrunched my nose. “First, I didn’t ask for any wish right now. But even if I had surely this Esmeralda must have put constraints on when? I mean, otherwise djinn, being immortal creatures, could just not grant wishes during the human’s lifetime.” I held up my hands trying to show him I sought clarification and not to constrain him myself.

The djinn huffed and crossed his arms again. “And since when is it my fault that mortals have short life spans.”

“I didn’t say that either.” My statement came out in quick exasperation. The djinn sniffed his annoyance. “And let’s be honest. I never asked to be a master of a Djinn,” I rumbled glancing at the bottle sitting on the table.

When taking the job of restorationist at my town’s natural history museum, I hadn’t expected to find a djinn bottle among the “artifacts” the museum managers procured. I’d expected rubbish like normal. The town was too small and too underfunded for anything else. My job was to mostly make do.

“Be that as it may, you have.” His eyes flicked over me quickly, as if assessing me and determining I was a completely pitiful master. Great. Just the self-confidence boost I needed. “And I am not sacrificing going to the party.”

“Then why haven’t you gone already?” He snapped his mouth closed when I asked him the question, his teeth clicking loudly in the quiet room. He shuffled his gaze sideways, crossed his arms again, and huffed again. “You… can’t.”

“You needn’t rub it in.” He jerked his head to the other side and raised his chin.

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You can’t go to the parties most of the time because you’re stuck in a bottle because of the evil sorceresses Esmeralda’s curse.”

The djinn nodded.

“And you can’t go to the party now because I’m your master.”

That nod was accompanied by a glower.

“So. What do I need to do to allow you to go to the party?”

The djinn jerked straight at this, his eyes widening. “You’d let me go to the party?”

I shrugged. “Why not? I like parties.”

The djinn opened his mouth as if he’d protest my statement and instead corked his head to the side confused.

He smiled. I don’t think his face had seen a smile in ages either. The lines that creased his skin seemed. This was a creature far more used to being grumpy.

I waved my hands at him. “Go on, get out of here already. I’ve got work to do.” I looked at my usual rubbish and frowned. Work. Right.

The djinn grinned and disappeared in a puff leaving me alone in my office. Or what passed for my office.

I turned back toward the workspace filled with tables of artifacts. Or supposed artifacts. Picking up the bottle, I moved it over to my personal desk. Even if I’d never meant to find a djinn, I certainly didn’t want anybody else stumbling over him.

“Delivery.” I looked and saw a harried driver standing at the delivery entrance. He looked from his clipboard up to me. “Can you sign for this?”

“Sign for what?” I asked, peering over his clipboard trying to glimpse the delivery from.

He rattled off a name and my eyes widened with surprise. “We’re not expecting a delivery from him.” No premier archaeologist sent findings here.

The man shrugged. “I don’t care if you expected it or not, can you sign for it? I’ve got work to do.”

Moving over, I signed for it. I’d have been a fool not too.

The man began hauling in crates. Plural. Some that fit on tables. Some that took up entire sections of the floor. All of it filled with treasures.

My eyes widened as I reviewed the packing manifest. This this should have been un the national museums, not here. “How did this end up here?”

The man grunted, dumping the last crate on the floor he shrugged. “Must be a wish come true.” The driver turned and walked away.

“I didn’t wish for anything.” I said quietly after him.

“I’m aware.” The djinn’s voice sounded in my ear. “Consider this a party gift.”

Picking up my crowbar, I grinned. A gift to me, and a gift to the kids in town. Maybe someone would learn enough to get out and see the world. I walked toward the nearest crate with newfound determination.