It was a perfectly ordinary bronze lamp, the sort that burned oil for light. Sally wasn't sure why she'd bought it, except that it reminded her of Douglas Fairbanks, dashing adventure and Sinbad movies. It was probably a cheap replica, but it was only 50 cents at the yard sale and she wanted to buy something.

The lamp sat on the passenger seat for the fifteen minute drive home and then on the coffee table for the next week. The place really needed to be cleaned up; nothing was where it should be and she really couldn't put it anywhere until she cleared a spot for it. At least with her roommate away for the summer there was no one to complain.

The following Saturday she made some progress on straightening up the place, then decided to relax for a bit. Flopping down on the couch, Sally reached for the TV remote and noticed the lamp again.

Sally thought it would be nice if she could just get a genie to help clean, then giggled. If it was really a magic lamp Rod Serling would appear and thirty minutes from now she'd be buried under a pile of gold coins, or back where she started, after having learned a valuable lesson.

She picked up the lamp. Maybe Mr Serling would help her clean the apartment if the genie didn't.

"Oh, Mis-ter Ge-nie!" Sally began to rub the lamp. It started to belch smoke and she hurriedly put it down.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, which mostly worked. This was going to be either very good or very bad.

A tall, heavily built man formed out of the smoke. His feet were bare and he wore baggy pants. A black top-knot crowned his coffee-dark head. "I am the servant of the lamp!" he announced. "I must grant you three wishes."

So he wasn't the homicidal type. The question was whether he was the tricky kind who twisted your words.

"Any three wishes?" she asked. Sometimes there was a catch.

He nodded his fierce head. "You have but to name your desires."

Money was always good, but there were potential problems, like IRS agents who somehow knew that a genie had given you a fortune. That one might be tricky to phrase. Eternal youth? She might end up frozen in time or turned into a statue. Physical beauty? Sally was reasonably sure that she was already attractive; in fact the genie was giving her the eye. It must get lonely in that lamp and he probably didn't think she'd noticed.

But anyway that sort of thing seemed so vain. She just needed to stay calm, think clearly and everything would work out fine. With all the stories she'd read it ought to be easy to avoid a bad wish.

"There isn't a time limit on this, is there?" she asked.

"None," said her unsmiling servant.

"Okay, I can do this," she said.

World peace? Somehow Sally doubted that there was enough magic for that one. Inner peace? She could end up as a happy zombie. Wisdom and knowledge? Not after reading all that Lovecraft.

Was there someone who should fall in love with her? Not really - and besides, that sort of thing never worked right in stories. It was so hard to decide. "Oh, I don't know!" Sally exclaimed. "I wish you could tell me what to do."

The genie licked his lips. "For your second wish ...."