Greensleeves

Painting by Lisa Rae Winant

Mr. Bixby was feeling for his flask before he could even reach the tall doors of the bank. If only these doors could do a better job of keeping men like him from bothering the tellers with, yet another, foolish need for a loan.

“God damned know-nothings!” He shouted just as he pulled the dripping flask from his chin. Mr. Bixby was trying to get a loan so he would have enough money to start his new business- selling another one of his wacky inventions. Too bad the town already had a great inventor, a mighty successful one at that. The man was known to be a genius. Yes, he was among the most successful men in Centerville. Mr. Bixby hated him for it.

So on his way home from the bank it was no wonder that Mr. Bixby wouldn’t even give it a second take when the genie appeared next to him on the side-walk, standing side-by-side as he waited for the light to turn so he could cross the wet, dark street. Mr. Bixby would believe in anything if he thought it was an easy way to overtake his rival’s fame and success. The light turned to “walk” and everybody crossed except for Mr. Bixby who stood starring at the old women, his body rocking side-to-side.

“I get one wish.” He arrogantly told the woman. The old woman slowly nodded her head. “I want to be the wealthiest man in my town!” He exclaimed.

“Okay,” the old women said with a guilty grin. “If that’s what you want, I’ll make it so." The next thing Mr. Bixby knew, he was waking up to the bright sun shining on his face as he lay on a barren, sandy hill. As he got up he quickly fell back onto his knees as he looked at the sign that read "welcome to White Sands: population 1".