It’s a lazy Saturday afternoon – the kind I love after a long week of work. My boss had been on vacation the past week, and I’d worked a crazy amount of overtime trying to do her job and mine. She treated herself to a Caribbean cruise, and I treated myself to sleeping in past noon after a sixty-hour workweek. She’ll be back first thing Monday morning – probably sunburned and jetlagged.
Just as I’m starting to nod off on the couch, the phone rings. The phone that’s within reach doesn’t have caller ID, and I debate if I’m going to answer or let it go to my answering machine.
“I swear, if this is about my car’s extended warranty…” I mutter, taking a chance and picking up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Minty. You’re a car guy, right?”
Oh how I hate that question. It’s almost always immediately followed by ‘my car’s making a funny noise’ or some other vehicular ailment. To be fair, it’s the first time a pony has ever asked me this.
Minty, the one-mare demolition derby. I’m no psychic, but it’s not hard to guess where this conversation is headed. Cars are a new concept to ponies, and Minty is a bit of a ditz even at the best of times. “What’s wrong?”
“My car’s check engine light is on. So I opened the hood and checked and the engine’s still there. But the light won’t go out, so I think it might be defective. The light, not the engine. But the car isn’t running at all now. So is that light really important?”
Yup, my relaxing Saturday is over. I massage my temples with my free hand. “I’ll be over. Don’t go anywhere.”
“I can’t go anywhere!”
I grumble as I slip out of my comfy Peanuts pajamas. She’s lucky she’s adorable.
I arrive at her place half an hour later, and she’s waiting in the driveway. I look at her car – a vintage mint green Mustang II. She’d customized it in the manner of ponies – her friend Toola Roola had painted the pony on the grill mint green with a pink mane to match Minty’s colors, and her trio of mints cutie mark proudly adorns the car’s rear fenders. There’s no mistaking who this car belongs to.
I feel bad for the poor Ford, because it somehow survived decades of existence without a scratch… only to be purchased by the biggest klutz I know. Fortunately, it came with the big ‘5 mile-per-hour’ bumpers that were mandated for cars back when it was built, because it's bumped a lot of things in the year or so she’s owned it.
It’s her pride and joy, and now it’s up to me to figure out what’s wrong with it. Aside from the owner, that is. Pinpointing that isn’t going to get the car back up and running.
For that matter, neither am I. Just because I like cars doesn’t magically make me a mechanical genius. In fact, quite the opposite is true – I’m not mechanically-inclined in the least. It’s why the most important thing I’ve brought with me is myself… and my AAA membership. This car’s going to need to be towed, and I can get her that for free if I’m a passenger in her car. I make a mental note to get her a membership for Hearth’s Warming.
…It’s at that point that I realize just how far down the rabbit hole I’ve truly stumbled. I’ve started referring to holidays by their pony equivalents.
“Out of curiosity, did any of the other lights near the ‘check engine’ light come on?”
She nodded. “They all did.”
“I mean prior to the check engine warning. Maybe one that’s been showing up periodically or constantly?”
“Just the magic genie lamp.”
“The what?”
“The magic genie lamp light. I make a wish whenever it comes on. It’s been on all the time lately, so I’ve been making lots of wishes.”
I have a really bad feeling about this. “Can you show me which one of these lights that is?”
She points to the oil light and I groan. As I figured, her Mustang II’s not going anywhere except on the back of a rollback. “You may want to wish for a new engine right about now.”
“But I used up all my wishes on socks.”
“That’s true, she did.” The disembodied voice is definitely male, and very definitely not Minty’s.
I turn my attention to the Mustang II. Unless Knight Industries has been working on it, the car really shouldn’t be talking. “Uh, hello?”
“You’ve got to rub the lamp, silly.” Minty points to the low oil indicator, which is on despite the key not being in the ignition.
‘Silly’ is right. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I rub the dashboard light. I expect nothing. I get a genie.
“This can’t possibly be standard equipment for a 1975 Ford.”
“Well, the original owner did specify the Ghia luxury trim. Wire rims, padded vinyl roof, crushed velour interior, moonroof, and little ol’ me.”
“Okay. In that case, I wish for a new engine.”
An engine materialized next to the car. Great, a literal genie. “Let’s try this again. I wish for this car to revert back to as-new condition, with everything working, so that the car will continue to operate as intended by the manufacturer.”
“Consider it done.”
The car flashes out of existence and back into reality in the blink of an eye. It’s now the nicest extant Mustang II. But it’s also missing something, and I can see Minty’s eyes tearing up. I could use my final wish for anything – unimaginable wealth, power, immortality… writing talent.
“I wish for the car’s customizations to be restored as well. The paint, the sock hanging from the rearview mirror, and everything else Minty did to the exterior and interior of the car.”
“Consider it done.”
I lose my chance to be rich, but Minty is happy, and that’s all that matters.
Author's Note
Story notes: https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/985347/story-notes-minty-and-the-magic-genie-lamp
