Ali Bizarre

When Ali-Bizarre appeared in my living room in a cloud of smoke that morning, I really did think he'd appeared out of the ether, like a Genie. I think it was actually a fair assumption to make. After all, he was dressed, like a genie! But his attire, from the curly shoes at the bottom, to the turban at his other extremity wasn't the only giveaway, there was more.
The cloud of blue smoke was probably the biggest contributor to my having identified him as a genie, the very moment I saw him staring back at me from the other side of my coffee table, the light went on, I knew without a doubt who he was, and what he was there for. He had a thick accent that I could only identify as "middle-eastern", and a vague smell of incense. Sweaty incense, if there ever was such a thing.
Things only started to get confusing when I said, "you scared me, appearing out of nowhere like that". To which he, rather perplexingly replied, "well I rang the bell, and noone answered, so i let myself in, the door was unlocked". Which it was, so I probed further:

"Why the smoke then?".

"I can't get rid of it, it follows me everywhere. It's the result of some joker's wish a couple of centuries ago. Ever since then the damn thing just trails about behind me. It stinks too, smells like cheap incense and wet socks."

"Aha, so you are a Genie, does that mean I get three wishes?"

"Of course I'm a Genie, I'm bright blue. This isn't just a misguided fashion statement."

"But I do get three wishes, right?" I asked anxiously, as my thoughts were flooded with all sorts of fantasies. What to wish for?

"In these difficult times, we've all been hit by cutbacks I'm afraid. You get one wish. Make it a good one!"

"Oh okay, I guess that's better than nothing. How long have I got to decide, Genie?

"My name is Ali-Zar, and you've got 10 minutes, I've got a taxi coming to pick me up and it should be here soon. I hope you don't mind, I left my suitcase on your doorstep, I've just flown in. You should think yourself lucky, living so close to the airport and me touching down here this morning in a wish-granting mood."

Talk about pressure, I had only 10 minutes to decide on a wish that would change my life. It could be anything, or presumably it could be anything.

"Can I wish for anything?"

"Almost anything. I'll let you know if it's on the prohibited list, then you can try again."

Money is always the first thing that comes to mind. Innumerable other options present themselves as well, but nearly all of them can be bought, so money seemed like the best, and simplest bet. But how? Cash? Can Genies write cheques?

"I'm thinking of wishing for money. That's not on the prohibited list is it?"

"Points for originality. No, it's not on the prohibited list. It's on the unimaginative list, the boring list, and the predictability top 10 though."

Ali seemed odd for a Genie. I don't know what I expected. Probably nothing now that I think about it, I mean, who expects to have a genie walk into their living room trailed by blue smoke. I guess his general appearance was a little less than majestic, his clothes didn't quite fit him, and his eyes were bloodshot. But I decided to ignore his strangeness... for about 10 seconds, until he said this:

"Know where I can score some weed?"

"Sorry?

"Oh crap, you're not a 'just say no' kid are you? All prudish and holier than thou?" He looked perturbed. It took a little while for me to realise that this Genie was asking me if I could help him score some pot.

"I don't touch that stuff any more man."

"A convert. Alright, I'll ask the taxi driver. Half the time they talk and drive like they're stoned anyway."

"So, anyway, back to my wish."

"Yeah, you said, money. Just say the words, and I'll arrange it. If you're thinking of changing your mind, might I suggest you wish for a couple of ounce's?"

"Not likely."

It was this sort of behaviour that helped earn him the nickname "Ali-Bizarre". When I say 'helped', I mean that and the actual wish itself.

"Righto then, here goes. I wish I had a -" The rest of that sentence was overlaid with the noise of a jet taking off . It's deafening roar shook the house, as it did several dozen times a day. This one must have been very low, the noise was so fierce I thought Ali would never have been able to hear me, but he seemed to acknowledge me, I think he even gave me a wink.

"Consider it done master. Your wish is my command after all."

Next thing I knew I couldn't bloody-well see Ali, or even the other side of the house. What's more, I couldn't move, I was pinned to my sofa by piles of huge bags stuffed full of something very suspicious. The big black plastic bags could've contained anything, at first I thought it might be cash, but the smell coming through the plastic so close to my face was ominous. Whether I could see him or not, Ali was still in the house though, because he was very quick to ask:

"Seeing as you've got so much, mind if I take an ounce or so before I leave?"

My muffled reply issued forth from behind the piles of green-filled bags. "What the hell is all this?" I yelled, even though it was fairly obvious what I was hemmed in by.

"It's what you wished for. What's the problem?"

"It's not what i wished for you massive cobalt cunt!" It's fair to say I was pissed off at this stage, as it was more than evident that my wish for financial freedom had somehow become a wish for a legal liability. I'd managed to free an arm and push a bag away from my face, and continued to struggle in an effort to stand.

"Watch your mouth. You said you wanted a billion dollars worth of hash, that's what you got."

"Aaarrrggghhhh! I said I wanted a hunderd billion dollars in cash, you fat fairytale fuckwit!"

"I will not put up with this sort of abuse, particularly not with such wanton alliteration." And with that totally unsatisfying retort, he left, taking his suitcase with him, and leaving me with a house, a front yard and a back yard full of ganja.

It took me almost three hours to push, shove, rip, and sqeeze my way to the door and out of my house, where my unwanted gift continued to impede my movement, albeit to a lesser extent. Thankfully, the police didn't come by my house during those first three hours, or the preceeding hour it took me to get all the bags in sight of the neighbours to somewhere more discrete. It was touch-and-go with one passer-by who offered me some assistance with what appeared to him to be bags of rubbish. Needless to say, I declined his offer, I eventually got it all out of my house, and noone was any the wiser.

It's been over a year now, and the gifts bestowed upon me that day have all been moved on, and replaced with some new stock. Not as much as I started with, mind you, but just enough to keep the business going. I might not have got my hundered billion dollars, but I have made piles of cash out of the piles of hash. In fact I've made enough to pay for some shonky employees to help move my fresh produce. It's a lucrative business, I've even moved away from the airport. But I don't forget the reason I got into this business in the first place, which wasn't to create a drug empire, or to employ drug runners, it was to employ a shady underground figure of another sort. A bounty hunter, in fact the best in the business. A trusted business associate who stands to make himself a lot of money following the scent of incense and sweat.