Neon Genies

Oil lamps are passe. I admit it. They look like spittoons, and it's been three generations since anyone knew what a spittoon was. But neon? Seriously?

"Neon," repeated Big Ali. "It's the wave of the future."

I stifled the snide remarks that crept seductively onto my tongue. "We get that no one likes seeing some turbaned joker erupt from a spittoon ..."

"What's a spittoon?" asked Big Ali.

"Ok, never mind that," I continued. "Point is, we know that oil lamps are old fashioned and oil-lamp genies are hard to find in these, er, modern times."

"Tell me about it," scoffed Big Ali. "I've been trying to recruit an oil-lamp jockey for six months."

"But listen," I pressed. "Me and the guys have been learning electric lamps! We all have them now. Part time, of course. They take some getting used to. They're harder to rub without, y'know, getting shocked. So there's some user training there. Then there's the apparition piece. Ever tried rising out of an electric lamp? And the wish-granting mechanism is a little different. So we have to stick with our old oil lamps for a while. Because there are so many wishes and so little time. But we never forget our customer service motto: 'Give 'em exactly what they ask for, not what they really want.'"

I grinned ingratiatingly.

"Too little, too late," frowned Big Ali. "I'm bringing in Mighty Consulting Genies to convert us to neon."

"And how are they going to do that?" I inquired.

"Simple," said Big Ali. "But not cheap, of course. They will feed your old oil lamps into one end of a big wishmogrifier, and neon lights will come out the other end. Oil into gas. Couldn't be simpler."

"But you know how expensive neon genies are," I protested. "And the neons don't seem to interact well with others. Some call that noble, but I think it's just snotty. Anyway, how do you plan to pay for that?"

"No problem," replied Big Ali. "You guys will man ... er, genie ... the neon lights."

"But we don't know neon," I objected.

"Learn," said Big Ali. "There are some good on-ether courses."

I tried again. "What I don't get is, why not electric? We're just making the transition from oil to electric. Now you want us to go to gas? If the Mighty Consulting Genies can turn oil lamps into neon lights, couldn't they turn them into electric lamps just as easily?"

"Sure," Big Ali admitted, "but electric isn't cool anymore. Neon is the wave of the future. I thought I told you that."

"By the way," I asked Big Ali. "Where did you find these consultants?"

"In a lamp, of course," he replied. "They guarantee they'll give us exactly what we ask for."

"Ah," I sighed. "Genies after our own hearts."