Wish Granted

"I wish for a gold coin that doubles every day, in that I have 2 the next day, 4 the day after that, and-"

The urchin noticed that the Genie had frozen, as had the cave around him, in an eerie green light.

Then a portal opened and a small figure in a black suit stepped through with a clipboard and a pair of half-glasses on a chain.

"Hello. You have attempted to cast or invoke a magic spell that will cause an economic collapse within a few months. What are you intending to spend the money on?'

The urchin blinked and rubbed his head.

"Uh... Food? A bed? Wine? Women, maybe some of that-"

"I see, are there any others you intend to support or use the money on?"

The urchin thought about the other urchins.

"No."

The figure nodded and filled out a scroll.

"So no plans for inter-plane interactions nor major political or magical upheavals?"

"No, man, I just want to live a nice life."

The figure nodded as they continued scrawling in gaps on the scroll.

"Very wise. Sign here."

The urchin, confused, signed.

*********

The rich man was unaware he lost two wishes, technically.

#1 With A Bullet

Humanity was desperate for something that made them stand out amongst the Galactic Community. It wasn't unusual, most races went through it, the desperate need to be the most special and unique in some way.

But try as we might, we couldn't find one. There was always another race stronger, faster, better at art, music, sex, everything. And we were also too much of an outlier to try and claim default status, not that we didn't try hard.

But in the end, we did find one way we were the best.

'Disease incubation' wasn't good for tourism.

But for weapons...

Preventative Measures

Some people save the world by curing disease, or by discovering a great leap forward in science. Me? I save the world by ensuring that there's no evil lurking in the shadows.

After all, if there was a great evil like a vampire house or a werewolf clan or whatever in the shadows, there's no way they'd allow anyone to explain them online. So every day, when I write out a new creature or a variation of one, I prove there's no such actual thing.

Today's one is really nasty too, I'll just open this parcel then I'll get to-

The Boy Scout

He had the reputation for predicting every little thing. No matter what, he had a plan, and a back-up, and a back-up for the back-up, and presumably a back-up for that one too, and so on.

He'd developed that reputation across the years, but the truth was, while he was clever and could do a decent job at predicting stuff, truth is, all he has were a half dozen basic plans and devices he could pull out, and a damn good poker face.

After all, there's only so many ways anyone can shoot at you, right?

Last Night's Conversation

Actual conversation I had (in my head) last night.

*Power goes out*

Me: Huh.

My Brain: Welp, no Drabble tonight.

Me: Wait, what? It's only like 10:30, my phone has a decent amount of battery power left!

My Brain: Nope, no Drabble.

Me: I'm already a few days without one-

My Brain: Well one more won't matter, will it!

Me: No, sorry, I've got nothing else to do but this, this is like perfect storm to focus and do a Drabble! Give me one actually good reason why we shouldn't do one!

My brain: ...It's hot.

Me: ...Fair enough.

Wished Out

The Genie understood the concept of the Internet fairly quickly, but they were quickly blown away once I showed them the message boards dedicated to trying to outsmart wish givers like them and all their tricks.

"So you understand my asking all those questions."

"But... these 'Jackass Genies', they don't exist! We grant wishes as they're requested!"

"And when people are unhappy or it comes at a price or-"

"Humanity's inability to foresee problems or know their desires isn't a fault with us!"

"So you'll treat my wish fair?"

"Granted."

I argued my new hair color was proof of concept.

Simple Sounding Question

She asked me a simple sounding question. 

But how to answer it without a long, complicated answer? How could I possibly tell the truth without explaining about all that came before her, all the pain and the mental scars that had developed because of it. How could I answer what she thought was a simple question honestly without baring everything that I was?

It wasn't possible. So I told her a simple sounding lie.

I sometimes think about where she might be now. I hope she's happy, truly. I'm not, obviously, but I wasn't before, so I'm used to it.