“I Dream of Jeannie” Rip-Off

The drops fell into the glass with a satisfying “plop, plop, plop” and Roger Healy chuckled to himself. He quickly but clumsily held the medicine dropper bottle behind his back as Tony suddenly came into the office.

“Whatcha got there, Rog?” Tony asked.

“Oh nothin… here I gotcha a glass of cola,” Roger said.

“I mean behind your back.”

“Oh, these? Ha, ha. Eye drops… from Dr. Bellows.”

“Eye drops from Dr. Bellows. What’s wrong with your eyes?” Tony asked.

“Oh, just tired that’s all. Here’s your cola.”

“Oh, uh… thanks,” Tony said, taking a big swig.

Tony suddenly looked at Roger. “Hey… this tastes awfully odd….”

“Sure does shithead,” Roger replied with a laugh.

Without warning, Major Nelson’s eyes rolled back in his head and he crashed to the carpet. Unconscious.

“Gotta love those knockout drops,” muttered Roger.

Major Healy lifted Tony up and laid him on the sofa in his office. It would look like Major Nelson was taking a nap and he’d have plenty of time to make his escape. Roger had waited for Tony to get mad at Jeannie and lock her in her bottle. He knew that if he could finally get Tony out of the way then Jeannie would be his. Simple as that.

For years Roger had stood by watching Tony Nelson try to live a normal life with the fantastic gift of a genie wasting away in that Cocoa Beach house of his. He had waited patiently for Tony to finally get fed up and say, “Hey… this is bullshit. Fuck it,” and to have Jeannie whisk them away to some fantastic paradise. But that dickhead Tony Nelson never did it. That was when Roger decided to take matters into his own hands.

Roger took the liberty of taking Nelson’s car keys and hopped in his convertible for the quick ride home. Hee, hee! When he got to Jeannie there was going to be some fun. After arriving at Tony’s house he used the keys and opened the front door. Stealthily he went to the bottle: it was closed like he knew it would be. Tony… what a sap.

Grabbing the bottle he opened it… and a cloud of pink smoke accompanied by an odd and rather cheesy vacuum cleaner sucking sound emerged from the bottle and materialized as Jeannie.

“Oh, hello Major Healy.”

“You can knock off the Major Healy crap Jeannie… just call me Master.”

Shocked, Jeannie stared in disbelief. “But, but, but you are not my master. Major Nelson is my Master.”

“I’ve been around this game long enough to know the genie rules. He plugged the bottle up with you in it, and I released you. That makes ME your master,” Roger smiled.

Jeannie was stunned and suddenly tears welled in her eyes. “Oh Major Healy how could you do such a thing! What have you done with Major Nelson? Is he unharmed?”

“He’s fine. Sleeping like a baby. Now Jeannie, why are you so concerned about him? He never lets you do any fun things. He’s as boring as watching paint dry. I mean with me as your Master we’ll make the swinging sixties really swing baby!”

“Well… I do not know.”

“And Jeannie.. when was the last time you got some dick? Huh? Has he ever put the wood to the goods? Huh?”

“Well, no he has not and the last time I was really properly serviced was in the time of Saracen.”

“See? With Roger here it’ll be party time, and I can guarantee that around me you will NOT be celibate. I mean what kind of faggot would have a subservient babe walking around his house in her underwear all the time and he doesn’t take the time to pop the puddy, huh?”

“Hmmmm… You are right Major Healy. Major Nelson is an asshole. I am glad you are my Master.” Jeannie jumped up and down and clapped her hands.

“First things first, Jeannie. Blink yourself into one of those groovy little mini-skirts and some go-go boots. And you can blink about $10,000 into my wallet. That’ll do for a start. Oh, and will you get rid of Tony’s convertible out front? I’ll have a 1962 Ferrari GTO in its place if you don’t mind.”

Boing!

Just a blink and it was all done. Jeannie was in a hot mini skirt and go-go boots, Roger felt a satisfying bulge in his wallet and the Pontiac convertible out front had been replaced with a most bitchin’ Ferrari. Roger was certainly going to dig this.

“Oh. Jeannie, will you blink my honorable discharge papers to all the proper authorities? I don’t want those Air Force fucks to hassle me while I’m having the time of my life.”

Boing!

“Now Jeannie, it’s time to have some fun.”

Major Healy roughly grabbed Jeannie’s shoulders and kissed her neck and nibbled her ear. “Oh Major Healy! It’s been aeons!” she whispered.

Roger lifted that mini skirt up and touched her where she wanted it. They both fell on the floor in a frenzy. An ex-astronaut and a sex-crazed genie that hadn’t had a good shag in over a thousand years entwined in a fucking frenzy that would make a sack of angry wolverines look tame. Roger was one happy guy.

“Jeannie? How about making sure that I don’t get cancer or any other health problems ever from these things,” Roger said as he inhaled on a post coital cigarette. “I mean, I don’t even want throat polyps or bad breath.”

“Anything you say Master,” Jeannie purred contentedly. “After a seeing-to like that I am yours to command.”

Boing!

“I can live with that,” Roger grinned. “Hey, how about some food.”

The vast Middle Eastern buffet of food was the proverbial icing on the cake and Roger was snoozing happily when a banging on the door roused him.

“Open the door! Open the door. I can’t find my keys!”

Roger looked down out of the bedroom window to see a dazed, wobbly and visibly dishevelled Tony Nelson banging on the front door.

“Hey Tony! guess what?” Roger yelled out the window. “I drugged your cola and I stole your car and your genie. I just got through having sex with her. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“Roger! I’ll get you for this!” Tony began kicking at the door, trying to kick it in.

“Hey, motherfucker! If you don’t go away and quit scratching the paint on my house I’ll have Jeannie send you to some other country.”

“YOUR house?” Tony yelled. “This is MY house.” He kicked at the door savagely.

“Hey, Jeannie, send that shithead to Uganda.”

“Have a nice trip to Uganda limp-dick,” Jeannie yelled.

Boing!

Tony Nelson disappeared.

“Ha, ha. I liked the part about limp-dick,” Roger laughed

“Thank you master. I thought that up myself.”

“Good girl!”

The two laughed and jumped back into bed.

“Jeannie,” Roger said. “I have to tell you something. I have a hair fetish and I get a trouser rock when I think about women’s hair and cutting it off. I hope you’re not shocked.”

“Oh no Master. There are things much worse. I was servant to an Indian maharajah once who liked having a mongoose shoved up his ass.”

“I thought only Hollywood celebrities did that?” Roger said.

“Yes, but that is gerbils, Master. This was a mongoose. They are larger and much more aggressive.”

“Ouch. Ha, ha. I guess that is pretty fucked up,” Roger said.

“Yes it is. He was addicted to it and eventually died from having a mongoose chase a garden snake up his ass.”

“Uggh… can we change the subject? If we keep talking about this I’m going to blow goat chunks all over the bedroom.” Roger looked woozy.

“Shall I make you a hair salon here in the house, Master?”

“Fuck yeah!”

Boing!

Roger went downstairs and looked at what appeared to be a groovy cool hair salon where the living room used to be. “Man… Jeannie, you’re the best!” he yelled.

“Oh, thank you master,” Jeannie giggled.

“Well, now I’ll need a customer.”

“Who would you like, Master?”

“How about Amanda Bellows for a start.”

Boing!

Mrs. Bellows appeared suddenly and bewildered clutching her handbag. Stunned, she asked, “What happened? Where am I?”

“Have a seat, Amanda baby.”

“Major Healy, what are you doing in this hair salon?”

“I’m now a hairdresser and you’re here for a haircut.”

“What’s going on here? I don’t want a haircut!”

“Make her want a haircut, Jeannie.”

Boing!

“Major Healy would you please cut my hair?” Amanda Bellows said.

Amanda sat down in the cutting chair and Roger smugly picked up the scissors. Roger went behind her and touched Mrs. Bellows’ hair which was stiff with hairspray. Roger picked up a small pair of scissors and snipped it twice in the air.

“I think you need a ultra short cut,” Roger said.

“Yes, please Major Healy… very short.”

Roger grabbed a piece of hair at her forehead and cut it within 1 inch of her head. Mrs. Bellows closed her eyes. The crunch was audible and Roger then lifted it and pulled it away. Again he cut it. Roger worked back across her head snipping off her dark blonde hair and laying the tresses on the counter in front of her. Roger lifted up another piece at the crown and again cut it to about one inch. He worked across the top of her head until the sides and back were left. Approaching the left side he lifted up the whole mass covering her left ear and methodically clipped it off. The crunch of the scissors in her ear was made even louder by the hairspray. Crunch, crunch, crunch… The scissors soon freed her ears and Roger then went to the back and cut off the volume before using a scissor-over-comb technique to crop the back short. The other side was cut off in short order and Amanda Bellows was left sitting in the chair with a boyish crop… her long hair was no more.

“I think we’ll go even shorter,” Roger said, and produced a set of electric clippers.

Roger grabbed Amanda’s head and pushed her chin down on her chest. “Head down,” he said and clicked on the clippers. Bzzzzzzz. Roger snapped on the #1 guard and began at the nape. He slowly and firmly moved them up the back of Mrs. Bellows’ head, the short hair getting visibly shorter and falling on her shoulders. Mrs. Bellows silently sat and received the haircut, only occasionally glancing into the mirror. Roger worked the clippers like a master and soon Mrs. Bellows was cropped to 1/4 inch.

Roger turned to Jeannie and was surprised to see her sitting in a chair playing with herself. “Jeannie what are you doing?” Roger said with a smile.

Jeannie grinned. “I turned myself into a hair fetishist too, Master, so that we could have more fun!”

“Hey, great idea!” Roger laughed. “Why didn’t I think of that! Hey, how about a bottle of champagne to celebrate!”

Boing!

Champagne appeared on the counter in front of Mrs. Bellows. “Hey Jeannie, why don’t you pop Mrs. Bellows back to where she was. I’m through with her haircut.”

Boing!

“I’m sure Dr. Bellows will love his wife’s new haircut,” Jeannie giggled.

“Ha, ha, won’t he be surprised?” laughed Roger

“Who’s next Master?”

“How about Bridget Bardot?” Roger said popping the cork.

Boing!

 

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