I Dream Of Jeannie 5-6: 2 Days Divided By 2 Millennia free porn video

[Please note: While under a spell that turns a mortal into a genie, or a herald, they lose all rights to their former names, and lives. That is, they become "non-persons". All genies can only be referred to as "genie", spelled "Jeannie", "Geni" (which is how I'm spelling our Jeannie's older sister's name after she loses her given name), "Geeny", "Dgeenee", "Djinnie", etc. And all 'half-genies' can only be referred to as "herald", or as I spell it for the former Maynard G. Krebs, "Harold". [In the original TV series the two genie sisters, and just about all the others, did have the same name. That is the motivation behind my whole concept.] {Caveat: There are no historical or anthropological inaccuracies. Everybody knows that genies only on alternative worlds.} I Dream of Jeannie 5-6: 2 Days Divided by 2 Millennia Created by Sidney Sheldon Parodied by Ron Dow75 5) From 03: Later That Day, 2100 Years In the Past Through the alleys like streets of the mud brick and adobe city of 2nd Century BC Babylonia, a slim and attractive middle- aged woman wrapped head-to-mid-shin in a yellow white linen no- sleeve dress that barely hid her heavier linen 'diaper' [there was no bra to keep her breasts under control] was leading a young teenager dress in green linen robe that allowed her darker green velvet top and bottom to be just visible. They had linen clothes wrapped around their heads (the mother's white, the child's blue). "We're just drawing attention to ourselves, Mama," the teenager, Sadira, said. Only her tattooed eye-makeup was clearly visible, but the rest of the tattooed face was visible through the linen cloths, if you wanted to look. "I thought all women of the Middle East wore veils or scarves," said 'Mama' Roger Healey, late of the U.S. Army, now "drafted" to be inside a woman. "This is not that Middle East, Mama. This is Babylonia." "That's what I mean." But Roger had to admit, now, that looking around, there were not too many women wearing anything on their heads (except for pottery pots). In fact there were not too many women out at all. "No, Mama! Not this way: You know it is the way to the Greek Quarter." "Greeks! I like the sound of that better than Middle East," Roger said, pulling on Sadira's hand. "But without Sophia to give us safe passage, we don't know what will happen!" Sadira protested, pulling back. "Why? What could be more civilized than the Greeks? Western Civilization began with them. The textbooks say so," Roger paused at the intersection of dried mud two story buildings, to turn and talk to 'his' 'daughter'. "And since this apparently isn't the 20th Century, they've got to be near the top of the culture ladder, right?" "Mama, what has happened to you? Have you forgotten the Polis men?" "Policemen are supposed to help people!" "The Polis men of the Greek Quarter wish only to keep their people separate from others! They enforce their laws harshly. They do not like to see women out of their houses. Only women of lesser status are permitted out; and every time they do, they risk 'inspection'." "'Inspection': Being pulled over, and 'questioned'; 'say' the wrong thing, get 'arrested', and taken to 'headquarters'," Roger's mind worked out loud. "No. I don't think I do want to meet those kind of 'policemen'." "Come: the river is this way! We can escape like that slave in one of your stories from America!" Sadira was doing the pulling now. "A slave story from America? Tell me again which one was that?" "'Huck Finn', of course, Mama!" +++ With Sadira leading now, without the scarves around their faces, they avoided the busiest, and the more dangerous parts of the 'city'. To Roger Healey's 20th Century mind it was not a large, or crowded, place. It could only have been a few miles across, and few tens of thousands in population. But Sadira assured her 'Mama' Babylonia was one of the biggest, most magnificent cities in the world. =Whatever time I'm in, I'm not here to be a tourist. I wonder if the Army "volunteered" me for some super top secret time experiment? Did it switch me with somebody in this time, and she, 'dear, sweet' Mama, is in my body? If only I could remember! I hope that doesn't mean the time machine is defective, and I'm stuck here! Like this!! I never even wanted to be anybody's father!= They made it to one of the gates. If this were back home, Roger would say it was for a one-lane lane; it was just packed dirt. The gate itself was a huge stone wheel with a couple of large "cogs" that undoubtedly provided the asymmetrical mass to make it roll once the block was removed. But even this side gate had a squad (of rather bored looking) guards. They were not the top echelon, so their armor was leather helmets (but with iron around the eyes and along the bridge of the nose) and leather 'breastplates' tied around layers of cloth; they even had 'pants' of the same layered material, bound in leather thongs. Their leather shoes had toes that curled up. And they looked stiff. "Is there going to be a problem, Sadira?" Roger asked. "You know how men are, Mama." "Right. I know; I'm 'Mama'," Roger said. "Er, tell me again how men are?" "Without a claim over us, they should leave us alone. Unless..." Sadira prompted. "Unless? There has to be an unless, hunh?" Sadira, clearly concerned about her Mama, completed the thought, "Unless they are looking for some 'fun'." "'Fun'? These jokers look like they would find a yawning contest entertaining. I think we'd better think of a plan." "But if we draw any kind of attention to ourselves, we're sure to get their attention." "Not if it's brilliant," Roger smiled. "Do you have a brilliant plan?!" Sadira smiled. "No. Do you?" "Out of the way, females! Have you nothing better to do than to stand in the middle of the street and play your silly girl-games!" a man practically barked. Behind them in the narrow alley was a man (the man with the curled beard wore sandals, a dark green linen robe, tan cloak; and he had two short, rusty-looking swords in the green sash around his waist) with a long piece of rope; at the other end of the rope was an ass. It carried lumpy burlap bags slung over its back. Sadira pulled 'Mama' out of the way. The man used the free end of the rope to whip his animal, "Come on: Move! Move! You accursed beast! It is because of you we're so late setting out! Move! I have got to get to the market, and make my living!" The poor creature had already started walking, but the man continued "urging" it along, "Do I not have enough woes, without you adding to them! I swear the gods put your kind in the world just to give men another reason to praise them when we are rid of you in death!" It was such a narrow passage one bag brushed against Roger. Inside, it felt like there were metal (probably tin) bowls and other trinkets. Roger relaxed again, feeling 'his' soft women's parts "sag" back into place. =What is it going to be like, if I really get old in this body?= "I have a plan, Mama!" "Is it brilliant?" "No, Mama. I am sorry. It is too simple an idea." Sadira said, apologizing. "Hey, kid, it's more brilliant than mine: I have none. What's the plan?" +++ "Halt!" said the most alert of the sentries. "Stop! Stop, you stubborn ass you!" the man yelled, pulling on the rope, now. "Where is your dull excuse for intelligence: You should know how things work by now!" "Pay the tax, and you can leave," the guard told him. The ass stopped within a nose of the arch. "I have what few coins I have tucked in a hole in my sash, officer," he said, reaching for them, while still holding onto the rope with other. "That'll be three bronzes, right, sir?" he said in a voice that sounded like it was the beginning of a market-place haggle. "A small silver," the man with large moustache smiled. "Silver!!?! Your share of the taxes has certainly climbed since I came in!!" "That was the old sergeant. He was replaced for incompetence," the man smirked. "But nobody charges silver!! Not even the guards at the main gates!" "If you wanted a lower price, you should have used one of them. You probably could have smuggled your embargoed goods past them better." "I do not have anything the city people want to keep for trade with foreigners!" the man said indignantly. "Give me the silver, and I will not see if you lie, dog." Grumbling, the man turned towards the wall by the gate, and reached past his collar; he brought out a small leather pouch tied round his neck. Glancing over his shoulder (the guard did not bother to come any closer), he felt inside. When he found it, he quickly put his coin purse back down his robe. "It's not enough I have to worry about brigands," the man muttered as he turned with the coin. "A brigand would take all of your coins." "And not 'earn' nearly as many," the man said, handing him the coin. "It's called 'volume'," the guard grinned at the one at his mercy, as he took the coin. "It's a pleasure doing business with you," he said, clutching it in his own hand. "Come again." Those last words were almost a chuckle. "Come on: Move! Move, you stupid excuse for an ass! I must get out of this horrid place they call a city!" he said, using the rope as his whip again. "Everybody is waiting in line to steal your coins! If they do not outright rob you, they are cheating you..." While the sergeant of the guard was testing the silver coin with his teeth, of his men made to nudge him, and pointed his head at what followed behind the man with the ass. "Have you ever seen an uglier woman?" Satisfied with the coin, the sergeant looked at the two women trying to shuffle ten paces behind the ass, their heads bowed. "Rrh. You have not seen my wife's relatives. She has a sister about that age, and due to be husbanded. Ay! The dowry it is going to take to get rid of her!" And tossing the coin in his hand up into the air; he caught it, and placed it in the small pouch around his belt that he'd opened with his other thumb. "This ought to help." "Why not just divorce the lot of them, then, and get yourself one that's younger... and prettier?" the other guard smiled with a suggestive leer. "All it takes is to repeat it thrice in a public place. And there's not a thing a woman can do about it." "This is a city, not the country. We have 'laws', with lawyers, and judges, and others who want a piece of any action. As for the woman being without power, why do you think they have relatives. Take my advice, youngster, if you want a 'pretty' woman, go to a prostitute. They have no relatives. None that have to worry about their 'good name', any way." +++ Once Roger could no longer hear what the guards, and another 'customer', were saying clearly, he relaxed a bit. 'He' glanced back over 'his' shoulder, "We made it." "But now we're out in the country." Roger looked around; there were tilled fields with irrigation ditches with vegetables that came practically up to the walls of the city. There was a crew of sun-darkened men in just loincloths working one them. "Don't they have suburbs?" "Of course not, Mama. Why would the rulers of the city permit anything like that?" Sadira questioned. "Uh, I was just thinking of America, again." "Your 'Paradise on Earth'," Sadira shook her head. "Where the farmers own their own land, and food can be carted in from long distances, still fresh from being chilled by ice." Sadira shook her head. "This is not America; only the rulers get the freshest food." "Oh..." Roger said, looking around again. "I get it. This land belongs to the rulers; the high muckity-mucks." There, a hundred yards ahead of them, was what looked like a guardhouse. In fact, every couple of hundred yards, there were guardhouses scattered about. "They're sure paranoid over somebody getting an unpickled cucumber, or whatever it is they grow." "It looks like there is no rumor of a siege coming," Sadira said, seeing something else in the guards that were visible that Roger's 20th Century mind had failed to see. Unlike the peasants (probably slaves) out in the fields, they had clothes on. But, apparently, being of even less worth than those at the gate, their armors were leather helmet (with peaks that pointed forward, not up), and cloth mats that were tied around them by leather straps. Except for their plain skirts, that was all they wore. As for their weapons, the two out in front of the guardhouse they were approaching had their short steel swords (that leather strap to beside must be for tying it to belt), and small square leather covered shields with the iron rims and boss in the middle laying in the dust beside them as they stooped to play with dice made of knucklebones of some animal. "If a siege were coming, the guards would be out working the debtors to make sure that all that could be moved into the city's warehouses was." Roger shook his female head. "This kind of guard duty wasn't what I had in mind, when I wished you into the army." "I would not like that life, Mama. I am glad a genie did not appear from the amulet." "But would you really rather be a courtesan?" The word stuck in Roger's craw; and if 'he' allowed 'himself' to dwell on just what Sadira was, 'he' would gag. "It is a small price to pay for a livelier life than I would have otherwise. That is what you have always told me, Mama." "Mama had all the answers, didn't she, kid. Well, take it from somebody who's not as warped, selling your body is not the answer." "Mama! Being a courtesan is not just about selling your body, it's about selling your mind!" "Now, that is sick!" "Mama! Let's turn back," Sadira said in a lowered, tense voice. "And guarantee that you'll be caught and sold?! Listen, Sadira, to get the spell for the amulet from the Madam, I had to agree to--" "Mama!" Sadira pulled at the bare female arm of Roger. She was looking out into a field and the mighty river in the distance. "We may have to draw more attention to ourselves than we'd hoped." But before she decided what she was going to do, she looked back at the guardhouse. Roger, now, too, looked. The man with the ass had dropped the rope, and was talking to the two guards playing dice. It took a moment for 'him' to realize what had gotten Sadira worried. "...if you cannot take care of your women, that is your problem," one of the guards was saying. "I am positive that the groom's family will reward you!" "Why?" laughed the other guard, looking in Sadira's direction. "I would pay you not to bring her into my family!" "A bride has a dowry..." the first guard said, getting a calculating look. "Uh, oh!" Roger said. "That's right. They think Sadira is a girl. If they find out she's not...." Roger didn't even want to think about the "then" half of that "if". "What!?! Do think dowries are paid in coins?! --That I would carry any more than I have to on a dangerous journey?!" "Come on, Mama," Sadira said, pulling, deciding to cross the fields. "Stay behind me, Sadira. I know judo and karate," Roger pushed her for the low slope down to the field. "And I know the 'Tale of Gilgamesh': But that's not going to change anybody's mind!" she pulled, and steadied her Mama as she nearly fell backward; she almost fell herself, being smaller. "Look!" the second guard grinned. "They think they can get away!" "Now, what are they worth to you?" the first guard said to the man with the ass, upping the stakes. +++ Even though Roger was from Iowa, he didn't recognize the greens they were running among. He was from the "big city", Des Moines; and he only ate his vegetables when somebody made him (Like the Army, and NASA). They may have been mustard, or turnips, or Swiss chard for all he knew. After they'd jumped a narrow irrigation ditch and were among some more plants, the dust started being stirred up again. "Sadira! Kick up the dust with your feet, we can make a smoke screen." "We do not want others to notice us!" Sadira told her Mama. "Two women alone are an invitation for trouble." "Yeah, especially when one isn't a--" Some thing struck Sadira's back with such force (Roger could hear the hollow thud it made against her) that it sent her stumbling forward, trying to maintain her balance. "Sadira!" Roger cried, bending over for the girl-boy who had stopped herself from falling with her hands on the ground and greens. "Run, Mama! Save yourself! It is me they want!" "I will not desert you! I may not know why you're important, but even if you're not, you don't deserve what will happen to you when they find out what you are!" "I am what you have made me, Mama. As all children are," there was a terrible resignation in her voice. "That's it," Roger said, turning to face their attackers. "Guilt me up for something I didn't do." Just as Roger was getting into his martial arts position, a stone hit him in the chest, right above 'his' breasts. He heard the hollow thump echo through out 'his' thorax, sending jars further up and down. 'He' saw the first guard release the stone from his leather sling; 'he' tried to get out of its way. It struck 'his' face, just below the temple. In his pained state, Roger couldn't remember the exact words that his West Point teacher of tactics had once told (or will tell) his class; but he understood the sentiments well enough, =The better part of valor is knowing when to play dead.= +++ It had been an all too brief struggle. Roger had re- discovered in a way he would never have thought he would have to that women were not only weaker, they were shorter than men. The second guard had all the advantages, despite Roger's initial surprise throw, when he reached down to pick 'him' up. Besides, it became clear that the first guard was fully capable of hurting Sadira, if 'Mama' didn't cooperate. "Guess what, Rahman," the first grinned to the second guard, who was finishing up putting Mama in a double noose 'handcuff'. "It turns out 'father's little contract sealer' is a boy!" "What??" Rahman said, turning 'Mama' around with him. Roger could see that the other guy not only had copped a feel, he still had a hand under Sadira's robe, feeling her exposed midriff, near her butt. "What kind of family would accept this for a bride?" the first grinned. Rahman reached inside 'Mama's' robe, and squeezed a handful of breast. "This one's real enough." Besides being deeply offended and humiliated (both as a woman, and a man who didn't want to be a woman), the Roger part of his mind noted, again, how floppy they were. =I like my boobs able to "stand up" to a little attention.= "Can't you see the guy tricked you!" Roger tried a different tactic, now. 'He' was slapped across the face by Rahman's free hand (luckily, and accidentally, it was the side without the bruise). "No more out of you!! You understand, woman!?!" The second guy's sense of humor had completely left him. "I wonder what crime you women committed?" "Tell us, woman!!" Rahman yelled into Roger's female face. "Why were you out with just the clothes you wear?!! --Tell us!!" "Make up your mind!" And for his impudence, Roger's breast was very painfully squeezed. "--We were fleeing from some bad guys! It's as simple as that!" "Bad men: Imagine, that!" the first guard laughed. "Yes. Imagine," Rahman looked at 'Mama' as if he were imagining some bad things he could do to 'her'. "They want to make a prostitute out of me!" Sadira told them, clearly concerned for her Mama's safety. "You're not already?" the first guard said. He still hadn't taken his hands off her the girl-boy's body. Roger thought of several things 'he' could say. All of them would probably only make things worst. "I say we take them back," Rahman said. "Besides the usual reward, we can sample some of the wares." His rough hand had gone to the other breast, as he made sure the 'woman' understood what he meant. And who he meant. "Too much trouble. Too many questions," the first guard said, taking his hand out from under Sadira's robe so he could shove her forward, back towards the road. "Cemel will want at least a cut." "And a 'piece'," Rahman agreed. =Boy, is that joke old,= Roger thought sourly. "Let's just turn them over to our 'honest' merchant, and get his coins. Cemel does not have to know about those." Before Rahman took his hand out of 'Mama's' robe, he said, "If our relief were not due, I would let you know real man treats a woman who does not know how to treat a man." +++ 'His' hands lassoed in front of 'him', Roger was escorted back to the road. Rahman found some excuses to hit the 'woman' in the back, and knee 'his' butt. Roger considered 'himself' lucky that the mad guard wasn't any madder. "You are as stupid as this ass!! More stupid: At least it knows better than to try and run away!!" their new "owner" told "them" as he looked at the guards; he was tying the lead rope of the ass to the double noose "handcuffs" of Roger. "It is a good thing I got you out of the city before it corrupted you even more! Wait until I get you back to the village. There, there will always be somebody around to keep an eye and ear on you. There they know how to treat willful women!" "He makes it sound like prison," Roger said. "Silence!" the man slapped 'Mama' hard across the (bruised side of the) face. For which Roger was grateful, seeing as how Rahman was prepared to do at least as much. "As for you," the man said when it came Sadira's turn, "You're lucky to be a concubine! I could just sell you into slavery, and be done with you!" He was tying a leather thong around her wrist. "Be bought by a wife, and see how many relations you would get?! You'd be lucky if the man of the house were permitted to service you once in a baleful moon!" Roger had to admit that this man knew how to be a merchant, what with his ability to spin lies. He tied the loose ends of thong that bound Sadira's hands to 'Mama's', "There are some inns between here and the village; perhaps I will sell you to one, instead. Then you can be both a scullery wench and a prostitute! Would you like that?! Then you would never have to wonder what a man having you was like! You could get a broad sample!" The man obviously had a dirty mind; he was enjoying this too much. It made Roger worry about 'his' own 'first experience'. At least Mama wasn't a virgin. And neither was Roger. But together... The merchant topped everything off by making 'Mama' and the daughter pull on the rope, and try and control the ass. "Pray that you are not captured by brigands, women! Whatever fate I may bring you, will be much worse with them!" 6) From 04: Later That Day, 18 Years In the Future (A.D. 1978) Pop! A dark, crew cut young man in a cotton, button-down print shirt, white pants and loafers (and mismatched socks) suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Dobie Gillis looked around at his surroundings. He was in the living room of a mansion! It wasn't the grandest one he could have imagined, but "It'll do, for a start, anyway. I can see if I like the life of the rich, and powerful. Once I get some practice in, I may move into the Chatsworth estate." "'Practice being rich and powerful', hunh? That will be refreshing." Dobie spun around. There holding a feather duster was a Negro in a dark tie, white coat, and dark pants and highly shined shoes. His uniform looked like that of "Peter Tong" of "Bachelor Father". "Who are you?!" "That is supposed to be my line. I work here. My name is Benson. I assume you have a name as well." "Oh. A butler, too!" the teenager smiled. "Of course, what would a mansion be without a butler?" "I keep telling myself that. I keep coming up with the same answer, 'the pay is good'." The man's attitude certainly didn't remind Dobie of any butler's he remembered seeing on those old movies he saw on TV. "Shouldn't a butler be more..." "Say "English". It'll save you from any more trouble than you're all ready in." "No offense," he repeated one of his standard lines. "There, you see? You didn't say it, and you saved yourself a mess of trouble." "I know Negroes back home." "You didn't know when to stop, did you. We're no longer "Negroes". We're blacks. And I am a black man. Or, as some of us prefer, African-American." "Oh. Where I come from, or I guess, when I come from--. No, that doesn't sound grammatical." "It isn't. And the way you dress and talk," he said, sizing him up, "you have to got to be a friend of this family." "There's a family that lives here? I didn't wish for any family." "If I was going to do the wishing, I wouldn't wish for the Tates, either. But, like I said, I just work here. Now, I've answered your questions; how about answer one of mine. Who are you?" "Dobie Gillis," the boy smiled, confident that he had every right to be there. "'Dobie'?" the black butler almost laughed. "I was named after a scientist," the boy lost his smile, and became defensive. "None that I've ever heard of," the smile was still there. "Okay, 'Dobie', at least one member of the family ought to be around. I'll be along in a while. I have dinner to finish." "Dinner? Er, I thought that all butlers do is, uh..." "Not me. I try not to "butt" in as much as possible. I don't like hearing people say, 'but he'll...' do it." "Oh." "Actually, I'm the cook. But if people forget that, it gets me out of the kitchen." Dobie watched him head out of the large open doorway and down the hall, where, he assumed, the kitchen was. That is, of course, if the butler was really the cook. No, mansions had chefs. He looked around again. There was gilt everywhere. Even if it were real gold, it could be paper-thin. Not even that thick! "A mansion with the chef who's also the butler? And he was carrying a duster like he was also the maid. A mansion should have a staff of servants. I definitely can do better. Harold! Harold, where did you disappear to?!" he called out. Pop! "You rang?" Appearing out of the same nowhere Dobie Gillis had come from, came a scraggly goateed brunet more than a year older the teenager. His clothes were purple with gold trim. He had on slippers that curled at the toes, opaque harem pants, a vest without a shirt (he had very little hair on his chest), and a turban with a feather sticking out from the middle of the front. "I, like, didn't disappear to anywhere, Good Master. It was you who, like, split. I stayed back home in 1960." "Why didn't you come with me to--whenever this is?!" "You didn't wish me to come with you." "What?! You won't do something as simple as that?! I have to wish everything, now?!" "Master Dobe, us genie-types are, like, famous for our literal minds. If you wish something, we give it to you, word for word. And me... Well," he shrugged. "...And you've always had a simple, uncluttered logic." "Oo, I had logic?" "Don't you have any now?!" "I don't know. I've only been a genie for, let's see (what decade is this..." "--Harold! Everybody has logic. Somebody even wrote, and I think it was Sherlock Holmes, 'There's logic to this madness'." "Do you want me to, like, find out for you?" "No! I just mean, as weird and unusual as you may have been when you were my former" ("And present") "--and present best friend, life-long companion, and beatnik--Even when you were the Master of the Absurd--" "Wow! I was all of that!?" the na?f said with true wide- eyed wonder. Dobie nodded his agreement, "It was more descriptive than I usually am." Then he explained himself, "But I can't use your real name. Ever since you became a genie, a spell will only let me call you Harold." "If you can only call me Harold, then that must be, like, my real name!" "There! You do have logic!" "No, Master Dobie; that wasn't my logic. That was, like, the logic of Destiny." "Destiny has a logic?" "Sure it does! Just don't try and figure it out. You'll just, like, get a headache. That's why Destiny's servants are so literal minded. It, like, makes things easier." "I'll try and remember that. So," Dobie said, looking at his surroundings again. "This was Destiny's idea? All I wished for was the one, the perfect girl." "That's all!?!" "We already went over that "there's no such thing as a perfect girl"! You said it was up to me to decide which girl is perfect for me." "You made your wish, and I, as Destiny's rusty servant, and your bestest buddy of all time, will give her to you." "I would say the word is "trusty", but knowing you, you're probably right. Is that why I'm here, in this mansion? Is this where the 'smooth and creamy, altogether dreamy' girl dwells?" "Maybe." "Maybe!?!" Dobie looked at the friend in the "Arabian Nights" get up. "Stay right there! Don't move! I have a pager, and I'm not afraid to use it!" a long haired brunette with a somewhat long (but cute) face said, pointing something at them that looked like a transistor radio, vintage 1960. "Destiny, like, has nearly perfect timing," Harold said. "Well, hello," Dobie smiled, trying to turn on his charm. (He definitely liked that the hemlines were shorter than in his time.) "And what is your name, My Guardian Angel." "I'm not your anything! You two, stay where I can see you!" And the girl in the navy blue skirt and silk blouse with the white vertical stripes with white and blue stars glanced down the hall while keeping her pager trained on them as if it were a gun. "Benson! Benson!!" "That's the cook, right? Or butler. We've already met." "You have?" she almost lowered her 'weapon'. "He hasn't met me," the oddball in the costume-party left over said. "You're with me, Harold," the other one said. Come to think of it, the woman thought, his clothes and hair, too, looked dated. What did he think he was? "'Harold'? Harold what?" "Just Harold. Harold the Herald." The oddball was an oddball. "Er, My name is Dobie, My 20/20 Vision," the other one smiled a might too broadly. "Dobie Gillis is my full name; no middle name." "My, how smarmy," the woman said. "That's my Master Dobe, alright." "Your 'Master'?" Now she knew both of them were nuts! "Yes: Master. Harold is my genie. I wished--" "Did I hear someone say genie and wish!!" another female voice yelled, running from some hiding place (apparently), and towards the living room. In ran a cuter blonde with short curly hair. The woman in the ochre dress (with an even shorter hem-line, Dobie noted) with black, sparkly silk gauze covering her upper chest and arms and matching nylons skidded to a stop, just short of the strangers, and then, became poised, and "rich" again. "Aren't you going to introduce me, Corinne?" "What do I look like, Eunice, your butler?!" "A butler is supposed to announce people, isn't he!" Dobie said. "That Benson guy must be a cook, after all." "Oh?" her opinion of him seemed to be shifting. "You're familiar with the servants?" "We have no servants," Corinne told her sister. "And Benson is more than an employee, he's a friend." "To the goody-goody sister, he's a friend," Eunice said, maintaining her "rich" attitude. "But what would you expect of somebody who is not born a Tate?" "You can't prove that!" "Not to get in the middle of a family dispute, but I came here on a quest," said the boy who said his name was 'Dobie Gillis' (and why would anybody want to make up a ridiculous name like that?). "Is this the one that's the genie?" Eunice asked, looking the boy in the tacky costume up and down. At least the material looked expensive. Satin. "I'm more like an associate genie." The only good thing that Eunice could think about his looks was that at least he wasn't fat. She'd seen pictures of big, fat genies. "I'm, like, a herald. I grant wishes, but only those that the limited resources of magic, and Destiny will allow." "Except for me!" Dobie was quick to remind him. "Except for him. He's, like, my Master." "So, that means..." Eunice said, trying figure out what it did mean. "It means you throw your tramp body at the other one, Eunice," Corinne told her. "Right!" Eunice smiled for the other one. "Er, not meaning to look a gift horse in the mouth--no offense--but, you're just going to take our word for it that Harold is magic?" looking at the lithe woman approaching him in her best 'I want you, you fool' manner. "It really doesn't matter to her if he is or not," Corinne informed him. "Any man will do. It's her pathological way of getting back at the family for preferring me over her." "Ewrr!!" Eunice broke off her 'flight plan', and turned on her sister. Not everybody likes Corinne best! Daddy prefers me!" "Daddy prefers any kind of slut," she answered back matter- of-factly. "I don't know if you act the way you do because of genetics or psychology, but there's no doubt whose side of the family it comes from." "At least I don't go chasing after priests!" "Yes you do--You tried to take mine away from me!" "Are you sure you have the right address, Harold?" Dobie asked. "These woman seem a little, uh..." "Destiny doesn't make mistakes. Even when Destiny does, Destiny won't admit it. Destiny will just say, 'It was all part of Destiny'." "Destiny? That's an awful lot a 'Destiny'. Doesn't your Destiny have a pronoun?" Eunice let go of her verbal clinch of Corinne (who had still managed to 'rabbit punch' her), to throw herself at Dobie. She did it with such force, that the boy found himself not only on the long plush and ornate couch, but leaning (uncomfortably) against the arm of the far end as if it were the chaise lounge nearer the doorway. "It was Destiny's plan that we meet. We're like two ships drawn together by a whirlpool of passion." "Oo... She can, like, talk in metaphors, like you, Master Dobe." "She just wants a wish," Corinne told them. "Don't listen to her," Eunice said, laying on top of him, and running her soft, hot hand over the side of Dobie's face. "You mean you don't want a wish?" Dobie's throat was tightening. The last time a woman had been this close to him was... He didn't remember having a woman this close! "No. I want wish-es. Who wants to settle for one wish?" "Until now, I thought I could," Dobie said. "All my other wishes would be to make her happy." Why didn't he just grab her?! Did this mean she wasn't really his perfect girl. Why should he care at a time like this!! "But, first, I'm ready to grant you your wish... as many times as you'd like." "Here?! In front of everybody?!" "Come on, Harold," Corinne said, "I don't need to see this. I'm horny enough with the man I love locked away in a monastery. No," she corrected herself, when she thought of it more, "he fled that, because I attacked him there, too." "Maybe I should hang around. I'm supposed to, like, protect my Good Master as much as Destiny will allow." "Harold!!" Dobie cried. "I don't mind an audience!" Eunice said. "Well, I do! Not the kissing, and necking, mind you; but what, I understand, can follow. Not that that's ever happened to me. And not much kissing or necking, either." "Grr!" Eunice growled. "I get to be the one who makes a man out of you?!" Then she rose off of the boy far enough to take her first real good look at him. "Just how old are you, any way?" she frowned. "I used to know that... 17. That's right, I'm seventeen- years-old." "Seventeen!" she fell back on her butt. "Do you have a problem with that, My Affectionate One?" Dobie asked, trying to get up on very weak elbows. "That's practically jail bait," Corinne said. "No it isn't!" Eunice frowned at what her sister said, now. "It's just that I prefer older men." "She has a father fixation," Corinne told them. "If I wasn't the wholesome, All-American type, and not supposed to know what was implied, I would be shocked," Dobie said. "But isn't it the chick who chases after a priest that, like, has the father fixation?" "Listen, since you say you can get wishes," Eunice said, "why don't you wish you were older. It would put me in the mood better." "Wouldn't you rather have it the other way around, My Age Conscious Coquette?" Dobie asked. "Be a teenager again?! No, thanks! This is the perfect age, right now." Then, she was quick to add, "--For a woman!" "Somehow, I had always thought my perfect woman would be closer to my own age." "Master Dobe has a teenager fixation," Harold told Corinne. He, then, said more to her, than anybody else, "Things are, like, starting to slow down. I bet Destiny is about to add somebody else." "Hello?! I sense this may be a bad time for a visit!" came a tenor voice from the entry hall just outside the living room. "We can come back later!" another male added. ("Oh: Two 'somebody elses'!") "Please come in, Jodie!" Corinne asked. "You, too, Danny!" "That won't stop me," Eunice told her. "It will me," Dobie said, getting his feet back on the carpet. "I'm sorry, My Eager Filly, but there's something about seeing strange men see us that does not appeal to me." "Eunice is trying to jump somebody's bones, again?" a tall, dark and man on the handsome side with a touch-guy edge said even before he entered through the doorway. He was in clean work boots, blue jeans, and white shirt with blue and black plaid. "She does seem to lack much in the way of a well-rounded character description," a smaller, dark and good-looking enough man whose edge was bull-nosed said following the first man. He was in a stylish dark suit and a pin-stripe shirt with white collar and cuffs, and cuff links. "I don't need a fruit criticizing my character!" Eunice said, getting up off the couch, now. "Didn't you hear? Fruits are good for you." "So are vegetables!" the man in the Halloween genie costume said. "Would you want to be a vegetable?!" Eunice snapped at the boy in purple who, come to think of it, looked like he could be gay, too. That was probably why his 'Master' didn't succumb to her charms. "You don't choose to be a fruit, either," Jodie said. "I don't know, little brother," Danny said. "I like to vege out in front of the tube. Maybe, if really tried girls." "Oh, you'd like them." Dobie assured him, having gotten off the couch. "Girls are the most marvelous creatures on Earth! Nay: They're not of this world! When you're wrapped in their embrace you feel like you're in Heaven, up there on Cloud 9." "I knew it!" Eunice cried. "You Are gay! No real man would talk like that!" "Eunice," Jodie tried to reason with her. "The boy just told us how much he likes girls." "He's just putting on a lousy act. Don't tell me he hasn't practiced that drivel a hundred times!" "Oh, Master Dobe is very good at coming up with drivel, like, on the spur of the moment," Harold said. "When it comes to girls, his mouth works faster than his brain. No offense, Good Master." "No, offense, Harold. And you're right; when it comes to girls, all sense of proportion is shoved aside by my sense of anticipation." "That's, like, why I keep telling you to forget about girls. They're not worth it." "See?!! And only another one would hang out with a fag!" "I don't know about that." Jodie then turned to Danny, "Are you one, too?" "One what?" Danny answered. "That's one of my favorite jokes! But I can't repeat it; I'm not one, either." Corinne, then, said to Eunice, "--And I'm Jodie's friend, too!" "That's different! You're both family!!" Eunice's frustration was rising. "You can tell me, son," Jodie said to boy in the costume that showed off his puny chest, "are you gay?" "Like, I always like to be happy," Harold said. "Don't listen to Harold," Dobie said, coming over to the smaller man of the men. "I've been trying to convince him since before puberty how wonderful girls are." "And you haven't succeed, yet, Good Master." "You, Harold are a hopeless cause. But this fellow. I know if he would just try dating girls--" "Oh, I've dated girls before." "I was one of those girls," Corinne raised her hand. "I've set him up any number of times," Danny said. "Women are always asking me out. They think I'm cute," Jodie said. "What?? I knock myself out trying to get a girl--One lousy girl!--and you have them throwing themselves at you?!" Dobie put his arm around the man, "I don't suppose you could tell me your secret?" "It's just human psychology; women want what they can't have. It's called the "Spock Syndrome"." "As in "Doctor"?" "As in "Vulcan"." +++ Leaving their hands bond, the merchant had untied 'Mama' from the ass's rope so that the two females could go off by the side of the road to go. Having to do it squatting just seemed to add to the indignity of it all the more to Roger Healey, the former astronaut who was used to doing it in his space suit. "Sadira," 'he' said it in a low voice, "we're going to have to find a place to hide that "Seal of Solomon" thing. It may be a bust as a magic amulet, but it looks like it's made out of real gold. If--I mean, when we escape, we can use it to finance a new life for us." "I have it right, here," she said, pulling it out of the green velvet top she wore under her more transparent green linen robe. "Well, don't let that guy see it. He'll keep it!" "Mama! Perhaps you did something wrong. Please try the spell again. We have nothing to lose." "Yes. We don't. Okay: One last shot at wishing up a genie!" +++ "You're touching him!" Eunice announced, as if that proved what she'd been saying about Dobie. "Is there something wrong with that?" Dobie asked. "Don't you understand what he is?!!" Jodie Dallas turned into a color negative two times, with each one producing a lightning-like flash and thunder echo. And then-- "What he is: Is gone!!" Corinne cried in shock. "What happened to my brother!?!!" Danny screamed. "He was there, then he isn't!!" "He did it!!" Eunice accused, pointing straight at Dobie. "He's the 'master' of that genie!! He did to get rid of the evidence that's he's a homo, too!!" Menacing music came out of nowhere; everybody but Dobie (who could not ignore it's threat) knew that it was music from "The Godfather". "Alright, pal!!" Danny picked up the smaller, and younger man, lifting him up by his shirt and tee shirt. "What did you do with my little brother?!! The mob knows how to deal with guys who make guys disappear that they don't want to see disappeared!!" "What!??!" Dobie asked, baffled at not just what this (now) goon was talking about, but the whole incident. "Don't, like, worry. Your brother is fine," the other creep (as far as Danny was concerned) said. "You do know what happened to him!" Danny Dallas set Dobie down, so he could reach out with his other hand to grab hold of the guy without a shirt. "Destiny has, like, made him an offer he could not refuse." "Harold!! Answer the man! What happened to his brother!" Dobie told his genie. "It's simple. The 'Seal of Solomon', like, turns mortals into genies. Only you weren't the one reading the spell, Master Dobe, so I, like, became a herald, not a full genie." "What's this about genies!?!!" Danny was not able to follow this at all. "Why can't I move!!" "Wow..." Corinne said, looking at her cousin, frozen in mid threat. "He really is a genie??" Eunice found herself saying. "Is that what happened to this man's brother?" Dobie asked Harold, coming to stand by the one with the powers. "No. Roger Healey, Mama Vashti, and you, Good Master, like, no longer have immortal souls, so he could not even become a herald." Then Harold smiled, "But Sharif will grant wishes." The music changed to "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly". The End of this installment. The sitcom "Soap" ran from Sept. 1977-Apr. 81, and was created by Susan Harris. It was more sensational and controversial before it got on the air than after; and one of the reasons was it had the first gay character in prime time. The show was full of people who went on to do other things I remembered without having to refer to "Total Television", by Alex McNeil. "Eunice Tate", Jennifer Salt was not one of them; in 1990, she played a "level-headed mom" in the "The Marshall Chronicles. She was also in "Play It Again, Sam" ['72]. "Corinne Tate", Diana Canova was in "Dinah and Her Best Friends" [June-July 1976]; "Foot in the Door", as the daughter- in-law of Harold Gould [March-May '83]; "I'm a Big Girl Now", as the daughter of Danny Thomas [Oct '80-July '81]; "Throb", as a middle-aged woman working for a hip record company [syndicated '86-88]. She was also the too tall (thanks to 'special effects') "Statue of Liberty" girl in an early "Happy Days" episode. AND she was also in "The First Nudie Musical" [1975], which starred Cindy Williams of "Laverne and Shirley" (with cameo appearances by such young celebs as Ron Howard). "Danny Dallas", Ted Wass was the father in "Blossom" [Jan 1991-the-book-doesn't-say-and-I-don't-remember]. He was also Inspector Clouseau's 'replacement' in "The Curse of the Pink Panther". "Jodie Dallas" was played by Billy Crystal. Enough said, until next time.