(no subject)

[lapwing]

[On the network is what appears to be a young boy, about 12 or 13 years old. For a moment, he stares quite soulfully at the video output impossibly deep, black eyes, and then pokes at the screen with one fingernail.]

Not even a proper imp in there, how's that for you...?

[He pulls back and mimes clearing his throat. A voice far, far more booming than is fit for the child's face resounds across the feed.]

Right, broadcast. AHEM. This is just a friendly, non-suspicious question, inquiring on when the next coup or violent overthrow of this government is going to be. Not that I'm actually advocating it, I just know you humans really can't resist.

I'm pretty handy with a popcorn machine if anyone can provide good seats.

Comments

[devoutish]

I liked reading adventure books as a kid. Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, that sort of thing.

[lapwing]

Oh, thousand and one nights, all that.

You'd be amazed how many people think you can still trick a djinni into a bottle.

[devoutish]

I would have tried, at age seven.

[lapwing]

See. There's a spirit, minding his own business, being free and enjoying the few - and I do mean few - nice things about the world, and some human tries to stuff him in a boring, horrible little space.

No excuses for seven year old you.

[devoutish]

But I'd get a wish or something, wouldn't I?

[lapwing]

Or eaten. Eaten sounds better. Limbs removed and barbecued. Frozen and placed in embarrassing poses for your social circle. I mean, there's plenty of great ways to interpret wishes.

I mean, etiquette would be to open the bottle and say "Goodbye, honourable and noble spirit, enjoy your trip home." Hardly anything ever bad happens on that count.

[devoutish]

You can't eat and leave my limbs. You'll need to pick one or the other.

[lapwing]

I think you underestimate my creativity.

[devoutish]

You could leave the bones, I suppose.

[lapwing]

Or just take bits. I mean, I don't have to eat all in one go. Everyone assumes that the head is the best part, but I really do favour the gams when it comes down to it.

Not that I have vast experience or anything.

[devoutish]

But then they take me and bury me, and you've lost me.

[lapwing]

You've got a point there. I'll have to think about it.

[devoutish]

Have you got a name, djinni?

[lapwing]

[ HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA NOPE. ]

Oh, I'm sure one will happen once I've begun my magnificent and great deeds here.

[devoutish]

I could ask one of your friends.

[lapwing]

You could. But you seem like a reasonable gent. I'd hate to kill you.

[devoutish]

For asking for your name? I haven't even tried to shove you in a bottle yet.

GOSH I am enjoying these two.

[lapwing]

It's that yet bit. Gets me all prickly.

SAME they're such shits

[devoutish]

I've got to keep you on your toes, eh?

[lapwing]

There's a thought.

[ The child on the screen stretches his arms and... lengthens, the face aging, growing. The clothes change in a ripple to match what Alfie is wearing right now. ]

Dunno, how about your name? This seems fine.

[devoutish]

[Oh fuck, that's creepy. He keeps his face and voice impassive, though.]

Me, I haven't got a name. My parents, they just called me "hey, you".

[lapwing]

[ When he speaks, it becomes apparent that Bartimaeus has lengthened Alfie's canines to sharp fangs.¹ ]

The state of child rearing these days is just sad, really.

[devoutish]

[Aaaaand that's even creepier.]

Thanks for the mirror, mate. You've got a bit of spinach on my tooth.

[No he doesn't.]

[lapwing]

Hey, not my problem.

[devoutish]

Fucking ridiculous. If you've got my teeth, you should be taking care of them.