I Dream Of Johnny (novella) (2 page)

I typed:

To lose two dress sizes.

Second wish:

To have bigger boobs.

Third wish...
um...oh, of course!

World peace.

There. Done. All was good with the world.

Error. The Terms and Conditions state that you cannot wish to change your appearance for aesthetic reasons and you cannot wish for something that doesn’t directly affect you. Please choose another wish.

“What? Ripped off!”

I went to put the silly lamp back in its box but something made me hesitate. Maybe I was just procrastinating, not wanting to tidy up or attempt following the Ridiculous Instructions again, but this lamp had me intrigued. I wanted to see what the lamp would have to say for itself after submitting my wishes that sure as hell wouldn’t come true.

Okay, take two.
I wish for...

A beautiful, tidy house that never needs cleaning, complete with my very own purpose-built studio.

One down, two to go.

An endless supply of credit that never has to be paid off.

And...what else? What would be really nice to have in my life? A smile teased its way up into my cheek.

“I know! A Greek God who adores me and never wants to leave my side.” I nodded my satisfaction as I quickly typed in the third and final wish and pressed submit.

Please wait while your wishes are being processed.
Tiny stars danced around in circles on the screen.

I bet it keeps processing forever and ever.

A chime sounded.
Your wishes have been approved. Please stand by for immediate shipping.

I laughed. They really went all out with this thing. I squinted as the screen flashed incredibly bright and the words
first wish granted
appeared. Ha! Yeah right. I glanced up, then back at the lamp, and then did a double take.

What the hell?

Clothes hung neatly in my wardrobe, organised by colour and garment type. The mess of junk on the top shelf had vanished, replaced by neat rows of labelled storage boxes. My eyes bulged and I scrambled to my feet and looked around the room. Dizzy, I held onto the wall as I took in the perfectly made bed with colour-coordinated decorative cushions, a stylish magazine holder in the corner with my collection of Crafty Business magazines, and no laundry basket in sight.

“Holy cow.”

I crept out into the living room, my knees buckling under me as a sight worthy of Vogue magazine greeted me. No art materials invaded my space, everything was expertly arranged and decorated, and the pink paint I’d accidentally splattered in the corner of the room had vanished.

“Oh my God.”

I rushed through to the gleaming kitchen with state of the art appliances and glimpsed something through the back door. An extra room! I almost tripped over my own feet as I stumbled out back to find the studio of my dreams. Mobiles hung here and there, fairy lights twinkled, and a large work desk had my plans and materials laid out neatly. This couldn’t be happening! It must have been that bump to the head that’s caused some sort of hallucination.

I squinted again as a bright flash of light overtook the room and the words
second wish granted
appeared on the lamp’s screen. Excitement frothed up inside like an overflowing bubble bath and I raced to my handbag and withdrew my iPhone. My breaths came in pants as I waited to be logged into internet banking and almost stopped when I saw the words
Unlimited credit. Zero dollars owing.

How was this possible? I logged out and opened the browser to my favourite online clothing store, navigating to the thirty-odd items in my wish list. I added them all to a shopping cart and completed the two thousand and thirty eight dollar payment.

Your order has been approved. Thank you for your business!

It worked! I placed another order at Wholesale Craft Supplies for good measure and then the bright light flashed again.

My third wish.
Oh. My. God. My third wish!
Suddenly realising what was about to manifest, I checked my reflection in the hall mirror and smoothed down my hair. The excitement I’d felt knowing my money troubles were over was nothing compared to the anticipation building inside me now. I left the lamp on the hall table and carefully looked around the house for my Greek God. Wow, I’d be able to bring him to the wedding and make Dan jealous as hell! When I next saw Valerie I would hug her so tight and thank her for this remarkable gift. Unless it really was just an hallucination. But I didn’t care. Whatever it was, it was absolutely fantastic and I was going to make the most of it.

I tip-toed towards the bedroom and heard a ruffling of sheets.
He’s in there! Breathe, Mandy, breathe!
No amount of deep breathing could have prepared me for what I saw on entering the bedroom. A man lay seductively on top of the bed propped up by the multitude of cushions, his eyes oozing desire.

“Mandy, my love. Come here and join me.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again. He was still there, curling his finger in a
come hither
gesture that shook me to the core —not because he was irresistibly gorgeous —but because he was the total, utter, complete opposite. High-waisted shorts with suspenders stretched over a polo shirt, thick black glasses, a comb-over, a big zit on his nose, and —the sight was almost too much to bear —knee-high socks underneath sandals.

He wasn’t a Greek God at all. What had gone wrong?

“Who are you?” My voice shook.

“I’m the man you wished for, my darling.”

“No, no...I didn’t wish for you!” I backed away towards the hallway. “This is a mistake!”

“The magic lamp doesn’t make mistakes. It delivers exactly what you wish for.” He stood and walked towards me, arms outstretched.

“But you’re...”

“Jonathan Fortran Schnecklmyer. Your very own Geek God.”

The room seemed to spin and I held onto the wall again before dashing out and closing the bedroom door behind me. I raced towards the lamp and checked the screen.

Third wish granted.

I pressed the My Account icon at the bottom and then Wish History. A list of my three wishes appeared on screen just as I’d typed them. My eyes darted to the third wish.

Oh no. No way. One little typo or that wretched autocorrect and my wish had completely changed. There was no ‘r’ where there should have been. In my frantic moment of ignorance I’d carelessly forgotten to double check my spelling. I’d thought it was just a novelty lamp after all, but there it was, plain to see: I’d wished for a Geek God.

There must be a way to cancel the wish — there must be! I clicked on Terms and Conditions and upon seeing that it was about double the length of
War and Peace
, opted to type a search into the Help section.

How do I return a wish?

A few search results popped up, and the first informed me that there were no refunds on wishes. But the lamp manufacturer allowed one —and only one —wish to be exchanged.

Yippee!

Hang on.

On further inspection it also informed me that exchanges took twenty-four hours to be processed. So this pink high-tech piece of plastic could instantly transform my house, make me a gazillionaire and manifest a human being, but not immediately send said human being back to wherever in Geekland he came from?
You’ve got to be kidding!

My bedroom door eased open.

“Mandy, there you are! Come here and give me a kiss.” The God of Geeks approached me with pouted lips and glasses askew and I grabbed my handbag and ran for it. As soon as I opened the front door and went to go outside I bumped into some invisible wall and stumbled backwards. Jonathan caught me, his hands under my armpits and the scent of body odour mixed with cheap cologne invaded my nostrils.

“Where are you going?”

“I, ah, just have to pop out for a bit. You stay here and...make yourself at home.” I tried again to leave but some kind of force field held me back. The lamp chimed. I picked it up from the table and read the message on the screen:

You must not leave your third wish alone. Wishes involving human beings require a lot of responsibility and it is up to you to take good care of them.

Oh dear God. I closed the message and quickly pressed Process Wish Exchange. The lamp told me it would be back in contact in twenty-four hours, after which I’d have fifteen minutes to make another wish or be stuck with my original choice forever. Making another wish would be easy. Putting up with the Geek God —not so much. Maybe I could hide all day, fake illness, lock the house and set up Jonathan what’s-his-name in front of the computer to keep him occupied? But I couldn’t miss Jodie’s wedding! I wasn’t one of the bridesmaids or anything —she had four sisters taking on the role which was more than enough —but we were close nonetheless. And I’d made the happy couple a stylish mobile with dangling framed photos of the two of them together. No, I had to go. But
he
, unfortunately, would have to come too.

With heavy feet I dragged myself to the kitchen and opened the bottle of Moët I was saving for a special occasion, or a crisis, and gulped straight from the bottle.

“Here, let me get you a glass, darling.” Jonathan hurriedly opened cupboard doors until he found a mug —a mug! —and reached for the bottle.

“No, it’s fine thank you...”

Smash!
My Moët-burdened hand collided with his eager-to-help one and I lost my grip, the bottle falling to the floor and creating an explosion of gold liquid and glass.

“No! Look what you’ve done!” My hands ran through my hair and Jonathan grasped me by the shoulders and turned me to face him.

“I’m so sorry my darling, let me make it up to you.” His lips formed a pout again and I pushed him off.

“No kissing, no!”

“How about I sing you a tune then?” he offered, clearing his throat and belting out a rendition of Rick Astley’s eighties hit, ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’, complete with daggy dance moves.

I shook my head and turned back to face the mess but my jaw dropped. The broken bottle, the spreading deluge, it was all gone. Like it never happened.

“See, nothing to worry about,” Jonathan said.

Yeah, except that a perfectly good bottle of
Moët
has gone AWOL.
And then I remembered two things: I’d wished for a house that never needed cleaning, and I had loads of money and could fill the whole fridge with bottles of Moët if I wanted to. Okay, disaster averted. One of them anyway. I had no idea how I was going to get through the next twenty-four hours with him shoving his lips in front of me every chance he got and breaking into song at inappropriate moments.

“C’mon,” I said, exiting the kitchen and grabbing my handbag, shoving the lamp inside it.

“Where are we going?” His eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

“We’re going shopping. It’s time for you to have a makeover.”

If I had to endure him as my plus-one at the wedding, I could at least make him look a little...less geeky. Money was no issue; I could buy him a suave Armani suit, get his hideous sideburns shaved, his hair done, and express contact lenses prescribed. I would also have to talk to him about his choice of songs and dance style and ask him to reign in his libido. He might even scrub up alright, it was slightly possible.

By the time we sat down on the bus headed towards the city, I’d realised what a mistake I’d made to choose this mode of transportation. Firstly, I could have hired a limousine —although that may have drawn more unwanted attention to us —and secondly, the bus was packed and Jonathan took it upon himself to provide some light entertainment.

“
The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round
—c’mon everybody —
round and round, the wheels on the bus go round and round, all day long!”

A few kids seated nearby joined in the sing-a-long, while a few discerning adults moved to the last remaining seats down the back.

“Ah, Jonathan, how about toning it down just a little?” I pressed my thumb and forefinger together. He nodded. And then began whisper-singing.

“
The people on the bus go up and down, up and down...”
he sang as he raised his body off the seat for every mention of the word ‘up’, the squelchy sound of the vinyl seat providing an irritating accompaniment.

Oh God. What to do? I rummaged through my bag for something that could distract him. iPhone? No, he’d probably call someone, most likely Dan, and give him a personal serenade. My fingers came across a squashed mint in the bottom of my bag and I held it up in front of him.

“Here, have this. It’s yum!”

Johnny popped it into his mouth and refrained from singing for the rest of the journey, though I did have to put up with enthusiastic sucking sounds.

By the time we arrived in the city and I surveyed the classy window displays of designer menswear, I felt more hopeful. A change of clothes and a trip to the hairdresser and Jonathan would be looking at least ten percent more like a Greek God than a Geek God. Well, maybe that was pushing it, but anything would be better than the atrocious outfit and hairstyle — if you could even call it that —he was sporting now.

I strode past the looks of disbelief on the faces of the sales people in the Armani store and plucked some suits from the racks. Jonathan was quite skinny, so I chose a few smaller sizes and declined a staff member’s offer to have him measured for it. He’d probably do something extremely embarrassing; it would be best for him to have as little interaction with people as possible, including me, but that wasn’t going to happen thanks to the high-tech magic lamp’s ridiculous terms and conditions I’d failed to read.

We entered a private dressing area which thankfully contained a private dressing cubicle for Jonathan to —
gulp
—get undressed.

“Aren’t you going to come in and help me?” he asked as I pushed him gently into the cubicle.

“No, Jonathan, you’re a big boy, you can get dressed by yourself.”

“But I’ve only ever worn this outfit.” He gestured to his high-waisted shorts and polo shirt. “I’m not sure I can remember how it’s done.”