I'm rubbing at my wrists and currently I'm perched on top of a white sculpture of a man fighting a dragon. I'm sitting on the dragon's head, which is amazingly much more comfortable than the man's in that way that means that I'm not amazed at all but I'm just really bored. Jared has been nibbling at the same piece of steak for the past hour, just glaring me down. I seriously don't know what to do about this kid. He's driving me up the walls, not that I couldn't just float up them on my own. I'm certainly not digging myself into a hole, or else I wouldn't have to worry about Jared or the comfort level of a statue man in a pointy hat's head.
Jared finally finishes the last piece, looking down only a moment to grab the glass of milk next to his plate. The boy doesn't even use steak sauce. He ate it raw and plain. I can't do that if the meat isn't even seasoned. I swear the kid is weird. "So then," he says, taking a sip of the milk as painfully slow as he ate before. "I get only three and then I have to give you to someone else?"
"That's the idea," I scoff, not really understanding why he's felt the need to ask that since this morning. "It's not hard. Honest. Are you just really picky about what you want to wish for? Please tell me you aren't as picky with wishes as you are steak preferences. That steak wasn't normal. It was like the un-steak. It was just meat."
He arches a brow at me and just quietly takes another sip of his milk before sighing. "Yes. Yes it was, and I have no intentions of rushing into making a decision like this. It's not every day someone gets a genie. I'm not even comfortable with the idea of using you yet."
"Using me," I repeat, laughing a bit at the mere fact that he chose to word himself that way. "Right, well, whatever you want to call it, how about a wish that you become like a normal kid? How's that sound, that normality thing in its entire splendor! I can hear the angel's trumpets from here, ba dada dum da dum!" I throw up my hands and pretend to be playing a trumpet, and he glares at me.
Jared takes to his feet and turns around, swishing his hand sharply in the direction of the door. To my surprise, I go flying forward and smack straight into it. "Ouch! How did you do that?"
"With my hand, now open the door. It's my birthday and I need to get ready, or would you prefer to sit around in the cross all day?" I cringe. It's not a tiny cringe, either. It's one of those cringes where you grab yourself and hug and think 'oh hell no, bitch'. Well, maybe I just do that, I don't know. I never really got along with people much when I was alive. I'd probably just waste my wishes on a new body, a hooker, and some money. I know what I want, so why can't he just think of something?
"That's what I thought," Jared says letting a wide smirk cross his face. I scrunch up my nose and fly after him. The pink tips of his hair bob a little when he walks, and he heads up to his bedroom. He flips a wooden chair so that he can sit in it backwards. I'm amazed at how far that child spreads his legs. That looks painful. I give a pity cringe, and I don't even think I have anything under my pants anymore. I should check.
I go to do such, but he glances up in the mirror and then jerks his head in my direction. "The fondling yourself thing has got to stop." I look up, my hands still in place with one at my crotch and one at the top of my pants trying to pull them down. I didn't feel anything, and it hurt to peel back the pants, so I'm going to assume they're part of my body. That's a definite pout. I wonder what the Old Man needs someone's penis removed for.
Jared begins brushing his hair and glaring at me through the mirror, and I release myself with a groan. "I have no penis!" He just blinks.
"So there's nothing to fondle," I say, hearing the pout to my own voice. That's such a terrible, terrible tragedy that I have fallen into. I don't like this whole eunuch thing. Hell, I don't even think I have knees, but I could care less about knees. "That makes me sad."
"If you're stuck near me, I'd prefer you not fondle yourself even if you did have something to fondle," he says with a scowl. His hand moves slowly as he continues to brush his hair, and I sigh. I should entertain myself. I notice a bookshelf and float over to it. There are way too many books here for the average child to read.
I glance at the books, and Jared gives a shout when I go to move one. "Don't touch my things, demon!"
I immediately grab one, but for some reason the book comes flying off the shelf and smacks me in the face. I turn around and look at him, throwing my hands up in the air for good measure. "Fine I won't touch your books!" I wasn't going to anyways, but I look down and catch the title "kama sutra style", which definitely interests me. The kid has more personality than I thought.
I fly down and grab it. I manage to flip it open with a little concentration, and I stare. I flip the page, and flip, and flip again, but something catches my attention. There are no women in this version. I blink and flip to a very bizarre page that's dog eared. "Oh, like this one? It looks a little hard, but by the way you're bending your legs now I bet you could – "
The other books immediately begin assailing me and fly off the shelves. They rip through me sometimes, and other times they smack me and hit the ground only to come back at me again. Dodging the books is like dodging a beehive. "How the hell are you doing this?" I shout. He doesn't answer.
Jared brings up a hand and glares at me as a lampshade goes flying towards me and directly breaks over my head. "By moving my hand, as I said before; you will not fucking touch my stuff!"
I go to disobey him, but I fall through his bookshelf. I fall straight into a completely different room, and it doesn't take long for me to be slingshoted right back into the room with Jared. I'm overjoyed, but not really. Actually, I'm pretty pissed off right now. I rub my face, which, if I was solid, I'm sure would be bleeding right about now. In fact, if I could manage to hit him right across his baboon ass eyes then I most definitely would.
I try to hit him, but it doesn't work. He raises his shoulders and lets out a scream. "I wish you were solid enough for me to kick your ass right you!" Fuck. I feel myself start to form and I fall straight out of the air. My chin collides with the floor and I give a groan. I try to fly, but it doesn't work. I can't even decently float.
My hand goes out in front of me and I force myself up onto my knees. Jared is standing right there with his eyes gleaming. He's got his arms above his head and he's holding up the chair he was previously sitting it. It smacks me on top of the head and I hit the floor again, a little more than startled at the fact that I'm not more pained than I was before. In fact, I'm bleeding. That fucker made me bleed! When did I get blood? It must have been that bastard's wish.
"Look what you did," Jared whines suddenly as the chair clatters to the floor. "You made me ruin a wish all because you just had to mess around! That's not fair!"
"Fair? You just made me bleed, asswipe!" I groan out, rubbing the back of my head. At least my hair has texture now. That's a nice addition. I wonder if that means the rest of me has texture.
"Stop rubbing yourself!"
I guess I don't get to find out. I really don't need to start bleeding again. I cross my arms and sit on the floor, snapping my eyes shut like an annoyed child. They come open again when I look up to notice a chair hit me in the knees, Jared standing with his leg upwards a bit as if he just kicked it. "I can't believe you made me waste a wish!"
"I can't believe you hit me with a chair. This isn't wrestling for Christ's sake! Did I say 'hey Jared, waste a wish and knock me over the head with that chair?' No! No, I did not!" I stand up, a little more at ease now that I know I won't risk falling through it. The chains make a loud clanking noise as they come into contact with the floor, causing Jared to get this weird smirk across his face.
Jared throws up his hands, suddenly swinging his left hand over to grasp his right wrist. The shackles on my wrist lock against the other one and immediately make a tight handcuff that wraps around and up my arms. I stare down at them, and then attempt lift my hands as I glare at Jared. "What the fuck does a weirdo kid like you need a genie for anyways? Do you know how easy it would have been for me when I was alive if I could do that crazy 'send-shit-flying' shit?"
"It's not easy at all," he hisses, leaning forward. "And you just have to screw stuff up by making me waste a wish!"
"Well, you still have two more, Peter Rabbit, so take in a deep breath and knock it the fuck off! And if you wouldn't mind, how about untying me, too?"
"No, Glenda the Good Witch, I will not untie you! You will sit right there until I'm done getting ready, and then you're going back in the cross. Got it?" I grumble out something like a 'yes'. I swear, did he have to make fun of my name? I know Glenn sucks as a name, but Glenda the Good Witch? That was just mean.
Next time I get someone as a master, I'm going to immediately introduce myself as something cool. That way I don't have a problem like a lady whining at her grandchild that my name is Glenn right off. Of course, unless Jared wishes he was a girl I don't think I'll have that problem. I hope he doesn't. He'd make a really ugly girl.
My hair flops a little in my face as I sit here, watching him brush his. I move a little to try and get it out of my face, but it flops further into my face. I tilt a little more, and it just rubs. It's rubbing the top of my nose. I move a little more, more rubbing. Usually being rubbed isn't a problem for me, but now I'm itchy. I haven't been itchy in a really long time, which isn't really a problem. The problem is that my arms are chained together so I can't scratch. "I'm itchy, Jared. Scratch my nose."
"No." He doesn't even look up as he continues to brush his hair.
"Let me free so I can scratch?"
"God damn it! Let me scratch my nose!"
"Then do it for me!"
"Shut the hell up, Glenn!" Jared turns around to glare death at me. I snap my teeth at him, which really must look extremely lame. After all, I'm tied up on the floor. I can't exactly be Mr. Frightening. I can't even scratch my own nose. This is completely unfair. Apparently, sinners don't get fairness. I was even fair about being a sinner, but, no, I can't get what I want even if it's something as innocent as wanting to scratch my nose.
Me scratching my nose isn't going to do anything to stop him from getting to brush his hair. I tell him so. He just glares. I slump over onto my side and whine like a little kid. "Scratch the nose."
"Seriously, Glenn, if you don't stop talking about your nose I'm going to come over there and beat your face in."
"You know, I no longer fall under the belief that you're a very good Christian." I say this as he finally stands up and turns around. He walks over to me, and I think he's going to scratch my nose, but he punches me between the eyes instead. Everything goes black, and I give a whimper. That was a little extreme. He didn't have to hit me.
I go to hit him, but then I remember that I'm lying on the floor, and I can't get one arm away from the other. Wow, this just sucks. "You're not supposed to hit a man when he's unarmed! Whatever happened to being nice to the unarmed thing? Huh?"
"What happened is that you deserved to be hit, that's what happened! If you don't shut your mouth I'm going to chain that, too." His eyebrows knit up as he stares at me. He moves back, and he just hovers over me for a bit. I stare up at him, and he gives out a sigh of irritation.
He turns his back to me and walks over to the desk. He continues brushing his hair, and that's when I can't resist. "Your ass looks fat in those pants. Of course, I don't condemn the pants. It's not their fault your ass is too large for them." There, I said it. Jared freezes with brush in hand. He turns around to send a glare in my direction, and I can only smile.
The brush falls from Jared's hand, and it stops mid-air. He turns around and moves his arm in a throwing motion despite the fact that nothing is in it. Nothing has to be. The brush goes flying forward and straight into my mouth. That is so disgusting. I can actually taste his hair. I don't want to taste hair unless I get something out of the tasting, and this is definitely not a situation that says Glenn is getting anything. This is a situation that says that if I had eaten anything in the past however many years, I'd be vomiting right now.
I shudder as I look down at the handle of the brush sticking out of my mouth and gag. I try to spit the thing out, but it actually gets stuck. It gets stuck! Now would be a wonderful time to hand access to my hands. Jared crosses his arms over his stomach and turns around to lean against the desk. He's glaring at me. Assface is just glaring at me. He's not even moving. He doesn't look sympathetic. I assume that's a bad thing.
Basically, he's all-in-all being a total jerk right now. I do what I can to glare back without him going psycho and doing something else to me. Honestly, I don't want to know what else he could do to me right about now. I'm not particularly fond of the idea of a solidified me. I think I liked falling through the floor and other such things sporadically a lot more.
After awhile, I finally just resign myself to the fact that Jared is an asshole and he's not going to let me go. He reaches up a hand to finger the cross around his neck once more, and I glare at the pendant. Can a solid Glenn go back into there? I hope not. I really don't want to.
Jared takes off the necklace, and I'm not sucked back in! Something worked in my favor! Jared throws the thing to the floor, and I suddenly feel really light. Never mind, it seems like I'm going to be sucked back into the stupid pendant anyways. "Can't start letting things go your way, Glenn," I hear in the back of my head as I'm suddenly back into the cross.
I didn't think this cross could get much worse. However, the pink walls are closer than usual, seeing as my arms are still tied together in front of me. I squirm a little to try and get comfortable, but that causes the tight walls to cram my arms further against me. Well, that failed horribly.
I bent a little forward to make more room for my arms, only to end up smacking my face directly into the clock. It blinks and makes me grimace. The clock makes a loud beeping noise, and I let out a groan. I should have never said checkmate.
I am going to do my best to screw up that kid's next wish. He's going down.
My arms hurt.