Angela was halfway through the mountain of junk when it happened. She’d nabbed a huge pile at garage sales that morning, ranging from a like-new coffee table to several unidentifiable lumps of rust. The plan was to take these and create found art from them. Sometimes it would result in an object of power and beauty, and she’d be happy with it (and probably not make a dime). But, if she was lucky, her found art would result in something hideous and pointless, and she’d sell it for enough to live on for another month or so.

One small lump appeared to be a teapot, or maybe an oil lamp, or maybe who knows what. If she took the rust off carefully, and left a nice patina behind, it might make an excellent spout for the fountain she was building out of 1950’s lighting fixtures. She had barely begun polishing it when it started smoking and hopping around. She dropped it as the smoke materialized into a rather impressive genie.

“I am prepared to grant you three wishes for freeing me from this prison. What do you desire?”

Angela stared at him, and before she could speak he said, a bit impatiently, “Come on, come on. I’ve been imprisoned in that lamp for three thousand years! I have other things I’d like to get to. State your wishes!”

She cleared her throat. “Um, my first wish is that you’ll advise me wisely regarding my second two wishes – help me avoid wishing for things I’ll regret.”

The genie was flabbergasted. He hemmed and hawed, but she waited, finally raising her eyebrows at him. “Fine, fine, it is granted.” He sighed. “I can see that humans aren’t as much fun as they used to be.” He sounded disappointed.