Probably not actually gold, maybe tin or copper, whatever,
As the full-of-himself poet brushed away the sand.
A smoke... Green, thick,
Like a cloud dipped in split pea soup for dye
Emerged from the spout with a laugh.
The fellow stood, beard pure white,
Typical parrot on his shoulder, bandanna and eye patch,
As the smoke kept grip on his peg leg.
“Ha ha ha, a genie I be,
And I grant you wishes... One, two, three!”
The voice bellowed in sing-songy rhyme,
Yet echoing even over the sound of crashing waves.
“You speak and look as though a pirate, fellow,
And why must you so loudly bellow?”
The poet, who I shall now refer to by name -
Jonathan - rather than adjectives followed by “poet.”
“Damn you, odd genie, look what you've done,
Now even I rhyme, this is far from fun.
And what is it with your pirateness?
I thought genies were purple and weird lookin', more or less...”
“Fer a poet, yer mind be closed,
But, so be it, to the question ye has posed,
I was once a pirate, tis entirely true,
But one day as I sailed the seas of violent blue
We found a treasure – a lamp, shiny and tin.
And aaarrrrgh! I know, 'twas quite a sin,
But I snuck it in me pantaloons and when reaching shore,
I withdrew to me room to polish it. Aye, to sell it for more.
But when I did, a purple beast as you described appeared.
I drew my scimitar, yet still it came near.
It offered three wishes, 'Choose wisely' it said.
I used one for wealth, one for women and one to never be dead,
It laughed, saying 'Your wish is my command,
You'll get each one, but at your master's demand.'
So I be sealed in this compass for all of time,
And, ARGH!!!! Forced to speak in couplet rhyme.”
He took a deep breath,
His story complete, yet he had nearly forgotten to add...
“I must say, matey, the wish fulfillment be not up to me,
So choose wisely, John, your wishes, all three.”
While John - Errr... Jonathan, sorry! - was raging,
His name violated, shortened to “common” form,
His mind creaked once more,
The gears within clack, clack, clackity-clacking,
As his vision unfolded.
“Give me some time, pirate genie, please understand
I wish for but only one wish, though grand.”
And as the pirate nodded, a simple, sullen “Argh” escaping his lips,
He retreated, green mist pulled into the lamp,
And Jonathan, the clearly insane poet
Retreated to his home,
Staring at his computer screen,
Word document teasing him...
Fingers tap, tap, tappity-tapping...
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