Author's note:  For the previous episode, check out my web page at
http://www.cis.ohio-state.edu/~kelsey/fanfics.html

*****

Be Careful What You Wish For
Chapter 2
by Bart Kelsey

     "Oh my god," said Keith slowly.  "What the hell
happened here?"
     Bart, who was seated on the floor and leaning against
the couch (which was upside-down in the middle of the room)
glanced up at his roommate.  "Do you really want to know?"
     "I dunno," he said.  "Do I?"
     "You're never going to believe me."
     Keith nodded.  "You're probably right, but tell me
anyway."
     "Well," said Bart, "it's like this.  Maybe a half hour
ago or so, I was sitting here on the couch minding my own
business.  I got kinda hungry, so I thought I'd call up
Gumby's and order myself a pizza."
     "Ya know," Keith interrupted, "if you weren't so damn
stingy with your tips, maybe the delivery guy wouldn't get
so pissed off, and--"
     "It wasn't the delivery guy this time.  Like I was
saying, I dialed up Gumby's, but I got the wrong number.
Some chick picks up the phone and says 'Relief Goddess
Office' or something, and that she's gonna come over and
grant me a wish.  And I'm like, 'yeah, right,' so I hang up
the phone and start dialing again."
     "So, what does this have to do with the fact that our
apartment's been trashed?"
     "Calm down, man.  I'll get to that.  Anyway, I start
dialing again, and all of a sudden I hear this crash and a
scream coming from the laundry room.  I go to see what
happened, and when I get in there, my dryer door's open, my
laundry's all over the place, and there's this chick laying
in the middle of the floor."
     Keith nodded skeptically.
     "So, I go over to make sure she's ok, and she gets up
and tells me that she's some kinda goddess or something, and
that she's here to grant me a wish.  Now, I figure she
probably hit her head pretty hard, so I told her to come in
so I can get her some ice and an Advil.  She's like, 'okay,'
and she follows me into the apartment."
     Keith gestured around the room.  "So you're saying that
some girl did all this?"
     "Well, in a way.  I get her an ice pack, and she starts
talking about that whole wish thing again.  And I'm like,
'What the hell.  She's probably full of it, but I might as
well give it a shot.'  So I wish for straight A's in all my
classes.  Anyway, she stands up and this beam of light
shoots out of her forehead, and all the furniture starts
flying around the room.  Then all of a sudden, it all falls
down again, and she says 'granted,' and then faints."
     "Bart," said Keith, "that's the lamest excuse for
making a mess I've ever heard."
     "Oh, come on.  I have a little more self-respect than
to come up with a lie this dumb.  I'm dead serious, man.  It
happened.  Look in my room if you don't believe me."
     "Why," said Keith, poking his head into Bart's bedroom,
"what's in your--"
     "See?"
     "Bart, who's that in your bed?"
     "That's the chick I told you about.  Her name's Lea."
     "Better question.  /Why/ is she in your bed?"
     "I told you," Bart explained, "she went unconscious.
I'd have put her on the couch, but it's upside-down, and
there's a TV on top of it."
     "Well, I still don't believe you."
     "Didn't think you would.  Just wait 'til Lea wakes up,
and ask her."
     "I'm not gonna believe her either.  But listen ... if
you don't want to tell me what happened, that's fine.  Just
go in there and get it cleaned up, alright?"

*

     Bart grunted, lifting the couch to an upright position
and sliding it to its rightful place against the wall.
Satisfied that the apartment was back to normal (or his
rather loose definition thereof), Bart flopped down on the
sofa to catch his breath.
     Lea, who had been sleeping peacefully for well over an
hour, emerged from Bart's room.  "Boy, do I have a
headache."
     "Those suck," said Bart, as sympathetically as he could
manage after exhausting himself four forty-five minutes by
lugging furniture around.  "There's a jar of Advil in the
cupboard above the sink.  Take as much as you want."
     "Thanks," she said, rubbing the red mark on her
forehead.
     "Listen," said Bart, "I'm gonna head over to the bar
and have a few drinks.  Try not to steal anything on your
way out, alright?"
     "You can't go to a bar on a school night," she scolded.
     "Correction.  I can, and do.  And besides, what do I
have to worry about now?  I'm gonna get straight A's anyway,
right?"
     "Yes, you certainly are.  But if you think for one
minute that you're going to get them by going to a bar,
you're sadly mistaken."
     "Huh?"
     "You heard me," she said, crossing her arms.
     "I thought /you/ were gonna make it so I got straight
A's."
     "I /am/.  Now open up your Differential Equations book
and start studying!"
     "Whatever."  Bart stood up and opened the door to
leave.
     It slammed shut.
     Undaunted, Bart tried the door again, only to have it
slam harder the second time.  Subsequent attempts proved
completely unsuccessful, as the doorknob suddenly became
very unwilling to turn.
     "Hey," Bart objected, "what's the idea keeping me
prisoner in my own apartment?"
     "I told you," said Lea, "it's my job to make sure you
get straight A's.  That's what you wished for."
     "Ok, I'm un-wishing it.  Now let me go to the bar."
     "It's not quite that simple.  You can't just take back
a wish.  It's a contract--it can't be broken on a whim."
     "You mean, you have to follow me around all quarter and
make me study?"
     "You said all of your classes.  I have to follow you
around and make sure you study until you're through
college."
     "That's awful," said Bart.  "Isn't there any way I can
have my wish revoked or something?"
     She nodded.  "You can cancel it with another wish."
     "Oh, that's not so hard, then.  Just give me another
wish, and I'll cancel this one, and you can be on your way."
     "I can't just give you another wish.  The one you got
was a training one, remember?  You got selected at random
for it.  If you want another, you have to qualify."
     "And how do I do that?"
     "You have to become a better person."
     "Ok," said Bart,  "I'll be good from now on.  Can I
have my wish now?"
     Lea shook her head.  "It's not that easy.  If you want
to qualify, you have to /prove/ that you're a better person,
and you have to mean it from your heart.  You can't just do
it to get another wish."
     "Fine.  How do I prove I'm a better person?"
     "It's not like there's some kinda set way to do it."
     "Can't you at least give me a hint or something?" Bart
pleaded.
     Lea reflected for a moment.  "Well, I guess what you
need to do is overcome all your personality defects.  I read
your file before I came here to grant you a wish, and
believe me when I tell you, you've got quite an impressive
list of them.  I'm sure it'd be easier for you just to get
straight A's."
     "Let's hear the list."
     Lea concentrated, and something that looked like a
graphing calculator appeared in the air in front of her.
She pressed a few buttons, and read off of the screen:
"stubborn, rude, crude, cowardly, lazy, impulsive,
disorganized, selfish, domineering, greedy, intolerant,
stuck-up, and mean.  About the only place where you have an
acceptable rating is personal hygiene."
     "I take it I'm a lost cause then?"
     "Basically."
     Resignedly, Bart kicked the door, then plopped back
down on the couch and picked up his Differential Equations
book.