Once upon a time there was a genie just let out of a confining lamp. How long he had been trapped inside, he couldn’t say. The lamp had lain wedged between a smooth rock and a hard place, on a far distant hill.
The genie had been released – as all genies must be released – by a rub on the sides of the lamp. But because the genie never dreamed of being released, and was, as usual, fast asleep, it took awhile for him to wake up.
In those moments of sleepy hesitation (he who hesitates is lost – genies especially), the collector who found the lamp – getting no prompt genie response after so vigorous a rub – discarded it.
“Not all lamps are alike,” he mused. “This lamp’s space seems much too small. There’s obviously no genie inside to grant wishes.” So, the collector traveled on.
But once out of the lamp, it took the genie some time to get his wits together. He looked about and liked the sunshine. He stood still, listening, loved the birds singing. “My, my, oh my! What have I been missing?” he said, glad to have a big scenery change. (He hadn’t a clue how he got into the lamp, who or what put and kept him there.)
As day turned into night, the genie lay back on the warm ground and looked heavenward. He counted many pinpoints of light, and after a thousand or so, he tired. “I can’t spend all my time counting stars, even though it’s a very pleasant thing to do. But my adventure in being a free spirit is certainly off to a heavenly start”.
On the second day of freedom, the genie had a curious urging. Slight at first, but as the day wore on, stronger and stronger. He finally realized what it was – for the lamp rub that awakened him. “Wow!” he said. “If only I could feel that marvelous vibration again.” And so his search to experience that first electrifying, awakening touch began.
Next day he walked expectantly down the far distant hill, following the footprints before him. Soon he met a man in a somber black suit and a very tight white collar.
“Good day, kind sir,” said the hopeful genie. “Did you by chance rub my lamp and set me free? And as a favor would you touch my heart and make me really real? I’d know that freeing touch one in a million.”
Said the man in the somber black suit and very tight white collar, “You’re a queer looking creature, if ever I saw one. I want nothing to do with you. No doubt you’re a genie. Genies should stay in lamps. Besides, any wish you might grant me would be evil I’m sure!”
So the genie reluctantly – but nonetheless hopefully – moved on. Soon he met a young fashion model, asking her the same question. “No, no,” she answered, shaking her head sweetly. “While you’re OK to look at, it’s not right for mortals to rub genie lamps. Besides I’m afraid I’d ask for all the wrong wishes. Goodbye. Good luck.”
As the road was ending (really just beginning), the genie met the lamp collector. Once more he asked his troubling question. “Yes,” said the collector. “I rubbed your small, confining lamp. Apparently you hesitated too long in appearing, perhaps through no fault of your own. Go be your great genie self! Enjoy. Share your magic with others.”
Answered the genie, now overjoyed, “Please touch my heart. I’ll travel on my merry way. My gifts to give.” And, thus happily touched, he did.