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one wish she could be owning the publishing company and that he could be working for her. But instead she simply told him that she’d get her reports in on time regardless of how sick she was feeling.
    “I certainly hope so,” he told her coldly. “And I certainly hope this isn’t some sort of childish response to my rejecting that book you were so fond of.”
    “No, Mr. Pish, it has nothing to do with that. With the way I’m feeling right now I’d be useless at work.”
    Mr. Pish didn’t sound particularly happy with that response, but he didn’t push it.
    As with the other day, Emily took Winston to Central Park, but this time she brought her laptop with her, and after the dog conked out and lay sleeping on the grass she sat next to him and researched genies as thoroughly as she could. While genie mythology in literature and film didn’t necessarily have anything to do with the real thing that she had hidden away in her bedroom she thought it would be best to educate herself as much as she could. According to what she read, genies could be tricky and mischievous, and would often distort their master’s wishes, which was pretty much her general idea of genies before doing any research. She also found references that described them as potentially evil and demonic. The one thing in common with everything she read was that they were spirits and a very separate kind of being from humans. She tried to put that in context with what she had witnessed with her genie, and it didn’t seem to quite fit. He appeared very human to her. Of course, it could’ve been only a façade that he created. He’d already demonstrated to her once that he was easily able to alter his appearance.
    By the time Emily returned back to her apartment she was still torn about whether to engage the genie in granting her three wishes or to not risk dealing with potentially dark forces that she didn’t understand. On the one hand it would be an adventure that few others would ever be able to experience. Emily had also been allowing herself to fantasize about what one of her wishes could be, and it was something she dearly wanted. But could she risk whether this genie was a good spirit or something mischievous, or even potentially evil? It didn’t seem possible to her that any sort of evil being could’ve raised such a gentle and pleasant dog as Winston, but the idea of tempting fate still frightened her.
    Emily might very well have never summoned the genie again, but what cinched the deal for her was Mitch. He must’ve been brooding ever since Sally took Emily’s side regarding Winston, and that evening he was lying in wait for her, sitting alone in the living room so he could watch for when she came in. Emily knew it was too early for Sally to be home, and while she saw Mitch out of her peripheral vision, she ignored him, as did Winston. When Mitch whistled at her as if she were a dog, Emily and Winston both instinctively turned their heads to face him.
    Mitch leered at her with an ugly, contemptuous look, and tossed to her what turned out to be a jar of peanut butter. Emily caught it and stared at it, confused. Winston also tilted his head at the jar, a look of befuddlement wrinkling his face.
    “That’s so you can spread it between your legs and let that ugly mutt of yours go to town,” Mitch said.
    At first Emily couldn’t believe that he had said what he did to her, and then she was simply too stunned to respond. Winston, though, had no problem responding. While he might’ve been barking up a storm when he was in the genie’s lamp, he hadn’t made a peep since entering the real world. That changed then. Winston lunged at Mitch while growling fiercely from deep within his throat, and he would’ve gotten to him if Emily hadn’t been holding a tight grip on the leash. Alarm flashed in Mitch’s face, but also something very cruel. Emily made sure to keep Winston restrained. She didn’t trust what Mitch would do to the dog if he