I Sing The Abode Elastic
The bedroom window turns out too small and wobbly for you to get through, so you bounce back into the living room where your eye is caught by a glint of metal. Something else that hasn't been changed..?
It turns out to be the magic lamp, lying approximately (give or take a few bounces) where you dropped it after your last wish. When you think about it, it makes sense that the genie and its lamp are immune to the genie's magic. Otherwise someone could cause all kinds of trouble wishing for the genie or the lamp to disappear or something.
On a sudden impulse you pick up the lamp and rub it. Sure enough, the glowing digits appear [see chapter 558], just passing 54. So your house has been rubber for six minutes then.
Even though you have enough trouble, knowing that you have a way to keep track of time as long as the lamp keeps following you [see chapter 559] and you can keep your head clear enough to do the math. Right now the lamp is counting down to 6:16 PM, which means you have to get to the bank before the countdown reaches 16, or get some money some other way.
But right now your first priority is a way to get out. The patio door is closed, but it's the thinnest in the house and should bend enough to pop the latch if you throw yourself at it hard enough.
Well, only one way to find out. You back up a few steps, run bouncily across the floor and turn sideways a moment before you hit the door. Just as you thought, the door bends and snaps open with a soft flump, and you stumble right into blinding sunshine and hit a surface that doesn't bend under your weight.
Losing your balance and rolling across the patio, you are surprised by the sound of... applause? Squinting in the direction of the sound, your resist the impulse to pull out the no doubt opaque sunglasses from your coat pocket. After a few seconds you can make out the neighbour's kids hanging over the fence and watching you quietly. Well, apart from the applause, that is. They must have seen the house change and probably think this is some kind of show, and you must admit that your behaviour isn't really suited to change that impression.
Getting to your feet and resisting the urge to take a bow, you wonder if the kids can help you somehow or just cause more problems.
"Was that your monkey, Mister Driscoll?" the youngest girl asks. "Can we play with it?"
Written by Won-Tolla on 25 August 2007
The end (for now)