Bedtime Stories for the Emotionally Exhausted (Fiction)

***

Annika found the old teapot on the beach. As she rubbed the sand off, a Djinn popped out. “I will grant you three wishes,” he said, with great solemnity, despite all the sand in his face. 

Annika thought for a minute. “I wish for a billion dollars.”

The Djinn crossed his thick forearms and nodded his great head. “Your wish is granted,” he said, his sonorous voice reverberating in the sea air. “And your second wish?”

Annika thought for a minute, though not as hard. “Nope, I’ve got a billion dollars. I’m good.”

And she left. To live on a billion dollars. 

**

The bad fairy was mad at the king and her rage control issues kicked in hard. She made his daughter fall into a deep sleep. 

“She shall only be awakened by the kiss of Prince Charming,” she mandated with her magic. She remembered, at the last minute, to cackle. She was committed to the bit.

Later, in another kingdom, an evil queen was jealous of her princess stepdaughter and slipped her a potion to put her to sleep, once again only to be awakened by the kiss of Prince Charming.  

Soon, everybody was doing it. 

Prince Charming never knew where people got his name, and for a long time did not know they were waiting for him to show up. Half the time, the sleeping princesses were suffering from medical conditions, such as myocardia, diabetes, or anaphylactic shock, and an EMT would have been the proper call. Some were actually dead. But he was expected to kiss them all. Even when the princesses were truly enchanted, they were grossed out when they awoke, as was the prince.

When asked how all this started, the first bad fairy cackled, “Honestly, I thought I made the name up! Kind of a hoot.”

**

After Cinderella’s stepsisters and stepmother left for the ball, her fairy godmother (the blue one) arrived. The first thing she did was give Cinderella a warm hug.

“Oh, honey,” she said. “Really, what is it with these cruel stepmothers? I mean, right? Don’t cry, Ella, you’ll be okay.”

The Blue Fairy gave her an awesome gown, heavy glass clogs, an outstanding pumpkin coach with two groundhog footmen, a man-size mouse driving six white horses, and took care of Cinderella’s split ends.

“Wait,” said Cinderella. “If you can do all this, why the fuck am I at the mercy of these people and a prince?”

The fairy godmother tapped her blue wand against her blue fingertips. She had blue nail polish and had dyed her hair blue and wore a blue gown. She was not “blue” in the clinical sense. She was thinking. At last, as the clock ticked toward midnight, she spoke.

“Yeah, good point.”

So she and Cinderella left. They opened an artisanal pumpkin spice latte shop on North Third in Philadelphia’s gallery district. Eventually, the Spice Spout had twenty locations nationwide.

**

When the Djinn had been freed for a long time, he stopped in at the Spice Spout near Gate 3, Terminal B, in Louisville, and found himself in line behind Annika, changing flights between New York and Santa Fe. Even though she was a billionaire, she still liked to fly commercially and ride the subway; it made her feel a little smug around the other billionaires. She and the Djinn were both ordering a Grande Iced Chai with oat milk.

How they laughed.

“By the way,” said the Djinn. “You have two more wishes you never used. Want anything?”

Annika was electrified by the question. “I’m glad you followed up! I’d actually love those other wishes. One: I wish they’d all just say Large, Medium, Small instead of Grande, Vente, Poquito, or whatever it is. I can never remember which one is the Large. Two: I wish I had a tax lawyer who could explain to the IRS where I got a billion dollars.”

The Djinn brushed some stray sand from his right eyebrow as he considered this. “Well, I can definitely do the accounting thing.”

**

Cinderella and Prince Charming eventually met at the Met Gala, where they were both wearing pumpkin motif getups. They knew a lot of the same influencers, and, as it turned out, really liked each other. She was strong and not catatonic. She could see he was damaged, but trying. They talked past midnight. Cinderella was wearing her new line of clear plastic clogs, which were more flexible, more comfortable, and less prone to sliding off on stairs, which reduced liability claims.

They sold well.

Walt Maguire is a writer in Philadelphia. He’s worked as a journalist, editor, content manager, and occasional actor.