I've always said it would take divine intervention for me to
get straight A's ... but I never expected to be proven right.

*****

Be Careful What You Wish For
Chapter 3
by Bart Kelsey

*

     "I can't deal with this."  Bart threw his calculator in
frustration and banged his head on his open textbook,
/Thermodynamics ad Nauseum./
     "Well," said Lea, placing the calculator back on Bart's
desk, "you're going to have to."
     "Y'know, this is really beginning to irritate me.  I've
been cooped up in this apartment for three days now doing
nothing but schoolwork, and the stress is starting to eat
away at what remains of my sanity."
     "/YOUR/ sanity?  Listen, you toad!  If you think for
one second that I wanted to get stuck here babysitting your
lazy ass for the next two years, your sanity's already
beyond help!"
     "Now, pardon me for asking, but isn't your language
just a little bit course for a divine being?"
     "Hey," Keith yelled from the other room, "could the two
of you shut up?"
     "It's her fault," said Bart.  "She's driving me to
this."
     "Hey, /you're/ the one who made the wish, remember?  I
suggest that next time you be a little bit more careful
about what you wish for!"
     "Now listen here, your divinity-ness!  I wished for a
billion dollars and a harem first--but could you grant me
those?  No!  You just kept at me until I wished for
something that your weak little goddess powers could handle.
And even then, you knew damn well I didn't mean for you to
follow me around and make me study all the time!"
     "WEAK?  I'll show you weak, you ungrateful prick!"
With that, she pulled a gigantic mallet from seemingly out
of nowhere and cracked Bart over the head with it.
     "Ouch," said Bart, rubbing his head.
     Satisfied, she waved her hand in the air, and the
mallet vanished.  "Now," she said, "there's something I have
to warn you about."
     "What's that?"
     "I've got to go up to Heaven for a few hours to do some
preliminary paperwork on this training contract.  I know
you're going to sneak out and try to go to a party, but I'm
warning you about this anyway so you don't come crying to me
saying I didn't tell you this would happen."
     "Huh?"
     "Basically, if you try to go out of the apartment, the
Ultimate Force will see to it that you go back inside."
     "The Ultimate Force?"
     "It's what makes sure wishes get granted.  I guess you
could call it fate or something."
     "And how is this thing gonna keep me from going to a
party?  Am I gonna get struck by lightning?"
     She shrugged.  "Maybe.  You really never know, though.
It could be anything.  Just be rest assured that fate will
prevent you from getting there ... and it probably won't be
pleasant."
     "Right."
     "Hey, I'm not making you believe me.  You'll see for
yourself soon enough."
     "Sure I will."
     "Oh well.  No skin off my back."  Lea stood up and
walked haughtily out of the apartment.  Several seconds
later, there was a sound of rummaging coming from the
laundry room.  Then, silence.
     Quietly, Bart tiptoed up to the front door and pressed
his ear up against it.  Satisfied that his captor was well
out of the area, he knocked on Keith's door.
     "Yeah?"
     "Jeff and Rich are having a barbecue tonight, and I'm
gonna head over there.  You wanna go?"
     "Sure.  Lemme save this English paper and I'll be right
out, okay?"
     "'Kay."  Bart flopped down on the couch and put his
shoes on, and Keith emerged from his room a minute or so
later.
     "Wow," said Keith, glancing out the window.  "Great
night for a barbecue."
     The sun had just set in the western sky, bathing the
whole city in a warm, pinkish glow of twilight.  An
occasional firefly blinked as it flew past their first-story
residence.
     Bart nodded, opening the door as he spoke.  "Well,
let's get moving."
     
     "Hey," said Keith once they were outside the building,
"where'd all these clouds come from?"
     Bart shrugged.  "Beats the hell outta me."
     The two of them started down the block toward Rich and
Jeff's apartment, but before they had gotten out of sight of
their own apartment complex, it began to drizzle.
     "Damn," said Keith, "it's raining."
     "Oh, come on.  Rich and Jeff won't let a little drizzle
ruin a perfectly good barbecue."
     As they neared their destination, the rain increased
from a sprinkle, to a shower, and finally to a steady
downpour.  By the time they reached the would-be cookout,
they were sopping wet, and Rich was hurriedly trying to
salvage what was left of the hamburger and hotdog buns.
"Well," he said, wiping the dripping, matted hair out of his
eyes, "you got here just in time.  Do me a favor and
disconnect my propane tank and take it inside."
     The less-than-dynamic duo did as they were asked, and
several minutes later, Bart, Keith, Jeff, and Rich were
standing around in the apartment, along with a few other
stragglers and hangers-on.
     "Hey," said Jeff.  "The rain stopped.  Wanna go back
out there and set up again?"
     Rich shook his head.  "All the buns are ruined.  It's
pointless now."
     "Actually," said Bart, "my buns are just fine."
     Icy glares all around.
     "I'll just shut up," he added.
     Keith shook his head.  "Man, that's gotta be the
weirdest rainstorm I've ever seen.  Clouds show up out of
nowhere, and it's pouring in a matter of three minutes.
Then it stops, just like that.  Take a look outside--the
clouds are gone."
     "Damn it all," said Bart.  "I'm gonna go back to my
place and change into some dry clothes ... after that, I
think I'll stop by Woody's for a few drinks.  Anybody with
me?"
     "Woody's, yes," said Jeff.  "Changing, no."
     More icy glares.
     
*

     Bart stretched, happy to be back in warm, dry clothing.
"Hey, Keith," he said through the closed door.  "I'm gonna
head over to the bar.  Coming?"
     "Alright."
     A minute later, they were once again on their way out
of the building.
     "Dude," said Keith.  "Those clouds are back."
     "Oh hell."
     The downpour came much more quickly this time; both
Bart and Keith were thoroughly soaked before they'd gotten
even fifty feet down the sidewalk.
     "This isn't worth it," said Keith.  "I'm gonna go back
and watch TV."
     "You do what you want," Bart replied, "but I'm not
gonna let some Ultimate Force or whatever ruin my day."
     "Ultimate Force?"
     "Yeah.  Lea said that the Ultimate Force would keep me
from going to any parties, so I'll have to go back and
study."
     "You still believe all that crap?  Bart, what's wrong
with you?"
     "Hey man, listen.  You'd believe it too if you saw all
the furniture flying around and stuff."
     "You," said Keith, "are delusional.  And I," he
continued, "am standing out in the pouring rain, talking to
you."
     "Who's the more foolish?  The fool, or the fool who--"
     "Shove it."  Keith turned and bolted back toward the
apartment.
     Undaunted, Bart continued on toward the bar.  He wasn't
going to let some stupid little rainstorm ruin a possible
evening of wholesome entertainment.
     And then it hit him.  It wasn't a revelation, or an
idea, or even anything resembling a coherent thought.  In
fact, it felt rather like a small rock bouncing off his
shoulder.
     Bart shrugged it off and continued.  Another pebble hit
him, this time on the top of the head.  Soon, he was being
pelted by a constant barrage of pea-sized hailstones.
     "Oh, this is ridiculous.  I'll be damned if I'm gonna
give in this easily."
     He plodded onward, and as he did so, the hailstones
began increasing in both size and number.  Finally, when
they reached approximately an inch in diameter, Bart let out
a cry of frustration, then turned and fled back toward his
apartment.
     When he finally got inside, he was bleeding from three
separate places on the top of his head, and his shoulders
were sore from the barrage of the heavy balls of ice.
     And of course, the rain stopped.

*

     The shriek and the clatter from the laundry room jerked
Bart back into wakefulness.  He staggered sorely out of his
apartment, and crossed the hall into the laundry room.
     Lea picked herself up off the pile of warm, damp
sweatshirts and looked at Bart.  His hair was matted and red
in places, and there was a bruise forming just under his
left eye.
     "I knew you wouldn't listen to me," she said.