Ian Johnson, an up and coming scripwriter

The year is 2022, and Ian Johnson has just been rejected from another pitch meeting from a big Hollywood studio. Long gone are the days of studios taking chances on new writers. Now it seems like they just want to work with the same people over and over again. He walks towards the exit of the studio lot, hands in his pockets, with a defeated aura surrounding him. He thought, for sure, Mr. R. K. Maroon III was going to love his pitch, but after inheriting the studio from his grandfather, R. K. Maroon I, he’s mostly done “safe” movies. Ian takes one last look around before leaving. And that’s when he spots a poor P.A. scrambling to get some props from the props department. He is in such a hurry, he doesn’t even notice he dropped one, a very nice looking lamp.

Ian runs toward the prop and thinks about calling the P.A. back, but thinks otherwise. “This is a big studio. It’s not like they are going to miss one prop. He carefully hides the lamp in his suit jacket, and leaves before security can spot him. He makes his way past the security gate, all while trying his hardest to hide the lamp. It seems they didn’t notice, or they didn’t care, because he was able to leave without any issue. Since Ian doesn’t have a car, he starts making his way to his home, which is 2 1/2 miles away. Time flies and sweat is poured as he makes his journey, all the while trying to avoid bumping into the other residents of Los Angeles, both human and Toon alike.

Once Ian arrives at his apartment building, he walks past his landlord, Betty Boop, who’s career came to a screeching halt after all these new cartoons started showing up. But one good thing about her being a toon, is that she doesn’t really age, so she looks exactly the same. “Oh hello Ian. How’s the meeting go?” she asks. He takes a deep breath and say, “Not great, Betty. Not great. I don’t know, maybe it’s time for me to give up on my dream.” She playfully slaps his chest. “Nonsense, you can’t just give up. Look at me. I haven’t gotten a job in years, but you see me still going to auditions, right?” she asks. “Yeah, you’re right,” he answers.

“All you gotta do is wait. You’re big break may be just around the corner,” she says. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. But I feel at this point, it’s going to take a miracle, Betty,” Ian laments. He starts walking up the stairs, but he can still hear Betty whisper, “That poor kid.” He finally arrives to his dingy one bedroom apartment. He falls on his bed and looks at the ceiling, wondering what has become of his life. He takes the lamp out and examines it. “Hopefully they don’t come looking for this. Last thing I need is for the cops to put me in jail.” He examines every little detail about the lamp. “Man, what I wouldn’t give for you to really be a genie lamp and not just a prop. It would make my life so much easier. All I would have to do is rub you,” he says before proceeding to rub the object.

He would have completed his sentence, if it weren’t for the smoke emitting from the lamp. Ian loses his grip on the lamp and it lands on the floor. As the smoke fills the room, Ian starts coughing and trying so desperately to wave the smoke away. “Oh wow, this place is small,” he hears a woman say. When he can finally see clearly, he notices … her. A beautiful woman with a body any woman would be lucky to her own. The woman looks at Ian and smiles. “Hello Master,” she says. Ian takes a deep breath and asks, “Am I dreaming? Are you really a genie?” The genie giggles. “Of course, I’m a genie. Can you think of any other magical being that can come out of a lamp?”

Ian runs a hand through his brown hair. “I can’t believe. You’re really a genie. I have a magical genie in my life.” A smile creeps onto his face. He can help but jump out of bed and exclaim, “Woohoo!” He looks at his genie and starts thinking about t he possibilities. A knock on his door draws him back to reality. “Ian, are you OK?” Betty asks from the other side of the door. “Yeah, everything’s fine, Betty. Everything’s just fine,” he responds. He starts pacing his room and muttering, “What do I want my first wish to be? I’ve got to be careful, since I’ve only got three of them.” The genie catches her master saying that and corrects him, “You don’t have just three wishes. I am bonded with you for the remainder of your life. You have as many wishes as you want.”

This is just even better news for Ian. “That’s great. That’s wonderful. Thank you so much,” he begins. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Do you even have a name or are you just genie?” he asks. “Samira. My name is Samira,” she replies. “That’s a beautiful name,” he states. He looks at Samira, like really looks at her. Her innocent and naive demeanor are completely opposite to what you would think a woman that looks like her acts like. He has this gorgeous genie at his disposal for the rest of his life. She is that miracle he was waiting on. “Well, do you know what you would like for your first wish, Master?” Samira asks.