"In any future battle of the sexes," Connie said smugly, "I give you both leave to remember this day."
"And rue it," said the djinn sadly. "Why, I'll be hanging around here forever, like a grape on the vine." And yet, despite his complaints, he must have felt an unwilling admiration for Connie, for he looked at me and said, albeit dolefully, "That's one smart-type tomato you got there, fella. Married to her, I'd hang onto my gold teeth with both hands, if I were you."
I had been considering Connie's wish all this while, and it seemed to me that even for her it made sense. I felt happiness and a deep contentment welling within me.
I smiled complacently. "It seems to me that this is between the djinn and you, Connie. I swear my nervousness is all gone. No need for me to get upset. No skin off my nose, that I can see. You ask me, I'm sitting pretty with a wife who can get me anything I wish for. I have only to relay them to her, and then—"
"You're babbling," Connie said, in an odd tone of voice.
This gave me pause. I looked at her. She was eyeing me in a very strange, reflective sort of way. Even the djinn must have noticed it, for he looked momentarily diverted from his own woes.
"One thing I can't stand," the djinn said, "is a winner who gloats. You're planning to give Pete his comeuppance, Connie?"
I still didn't like that thoughtful look on Connie's face. I cleared my throat nervously. "I did something, maybe?" I asked. "I said something?"
"The time to train a husband," said Connie at a tangent, "is right from the very beginning of the marmge."
The djinn began gleefully snortling and snuffling to himself in a manner that I found altogether revolting.
"You have something in mind, Connie?" asked the djinn.
"Oh, nothing definite. But I do have a hopeful feeling that something about all this business will cause Pete more than a spot or two of mental anguish."
"Constance Bartlett," I said, aghast. I shivered. I must have known even then, intuitively, that she was speaking with the voice of a prophet, and no minor one, at that. But what did I do?"
"Women have cluttered your life, huh? We can't drive, huh?"
She prolonged the "huhs" nastily like a cop in the movies giving someone the third degree. I can't say that I liked it.
Still it wasn't serious. I said, with somewhat more assurance, "Now honey. You know I didn't mean a thing by it. I was just—just being witty."
"Why didn't I laugh?" Connie asked reasonably.
I'm afraid the sound the djinn made at that could only be described as a giggle. A hoarse, muttering, mumbling, rumbling, rasping racket, if you like, but a giggle for all that.
I withered him with a look before turning back to Connie. "This isn't like you, dear. Give me some sign that you forgive me."
But if I were attempting to appeal to her better instincts, she apparently didn't have any.
"You don't even begin to know what I'm like, but oh, brother! are you going to learn!" Connie said. "However, just to show you my heart's in the right place, would you like a drink?"
"I wish I had one right now," I said. And God knows I needed it.
Connie looked at the djinn. "I wish Pete could have his wish."
"Work, work, work," grumbled the djinn. "A body can't have a minute's rest."
I felt something cold and wet in my hand. It was like touching a dog's nose unexpectedly in the dark. I looked down, unnerved.
It was a crystal glass, its sides becomingly dew-beaded, its contents smelling delightfully of something pungently alcoholic. I blinked at it stupidly. There was a moment's pause while manfully I pulled together my reflexes, sadly scattered long since, before I could lift the glass to my lips and take a snort.
My Adam's-apple hobbled in delightful surprise. I rolled my eyes beautifully.
