Where strange fact and stranger fiction collide
This is the first work of fiction I wrote with my new voice recognition software Ever since I was a little kid watching the original Battle Star Galatica, and saw Admiral Adama talking in to his computer and it began to write what he said.
I have dreamed for a long time to getting voice software to write, since I hate typing. So far it has been bad. It took me 90 minutes to write it. Which at 1302 words isn’t bad. I am hoping to get better as I go.
It’s a humor story. I don’t write a lot of funny stuff, but people who know me will often say humor is a huge part of my psyche. I came up with it last night and wrote it today. I hope to do a lot more writing with my voice recognition software.
Zara the Pop Culture Genie, in Careful What You Wish For.
It was Friday night and Eugene Koski had spent the last seven hours of the evening on line, debating and comparing the various body parts of Scarlett Johansson and Daisy Ryder, with his fellow nerds across the globe.
The only source of light in Gene’s room, was the glow of his computer monitor. The basement room’s hardwood floor was covered with old pizza boxes and Taco Bell wrappers. His computer desk had several action figures on it, including both the old and the new Harley Quinns, a G.I. Joe mint condition Baroness, and a handcrafted Black Widow, barley in a tight black cat suit, that he had picked up a few years back at Dragon Con. They had all been posed in what could only be described as a massive slap fight. His bed was covered with old crumpled comic books, a few old GURPs sourcebooks, most of them missing their cover and Star Log and femme fatale magazines.
The young man’s, body and mind seem to be as chaotic and cluttered as his room. He wore a threadbare pair of sweats, with what appeared to be the blueprint to annex wing on them. His shirt, with Boba Fett on a tie-dyed background, was a medium with his torso clearly being an extra-large. He wore flip flops over right side Harry potter sock and his left side Magic the gathering sock.
Out of the corner of his eye, Gene saw a glint of light reflecting off the gray light produced by his computer monitor. He nearly toppled out of what he called “his captain’s chair” reaching for the object, he nearly flipped over, he barely regained his balance, and straitened up. He brought reflecting the object closer to his eyes for a more detailed inspection. It was a ring with. a large fake jewel embedded in the gold like metal. The gem was about as large as the candy portion of a ring pop. It had to be costume jewelry, why would an artifact be worth millions, be just lying on his bedroom floor?
Gene could not remember where the items come from. Had Howie or Bob brought it over for their last D&D game? He had not remembered there being a prop, but he had been pretty upset when Ursula Sexy-Pants, his 14th level halfling queen/sorceress/hot babe had been impaled and eaten by kobolds. Maybe Chad, his DM, (may Lord Hades take his soul) had brought it but didn’t get the chance to use it, because of his cruel character-scide.
Gene looked at the rings crystal and quoted, “one ring to rule them all.” When he brought the ring closer to his face, where it was bathed, in the monitor’s light, there appeared to be the form of a tiny woman embedded in the gemstone. He began to rub the smoky stone and there was a great flash of light, smoke filled the room. The young geeks mouth was wide open allowing a plume of thick arid smoke to rush into his lungs. He began to choke and cough and cry out “what the fu…”
A woman appeared from the vaporous cloud. She was blonde and petite, looking much like a cross between Barbara Eden and Sara Jean Underwood, dressed in a slave Leia metal bikini. She declared. “Behold I am Zara the pop-culture Genie and you have freed me from the ring, that has imprisoned me, I am here to grant you one pop-culture wish.”
gene rose from his captain seat and began to wave his hand in front of his face to clear the smoke that filled his room. “Okay, just let me straighten it out first.” He began to remove the debris from his ancient double bed.
A look of bewilderment covered the ancient mystical entities face. “Uh… What are you doing?”
Nonchalantly Gene replied, “making room for us.” He lifted out a box of Thai food but apparently had been trapped between his blankets for the last fortnight.
Bewilderment changed to exasperation as Zara rolled her eyes and blew a puff of air to her bangs. “I try not to be surprised, when I offer you nerds a wish and that’s the first response. But I always am. We need to get a few things clear Buster,” she said sternly. “I am the genie of pop-culture, I’m not some floozy, here to act out your sick fantasies.”
“What does that mean? Asked Gene.
“We are not going to have sex.” The irate genie explained.
“Make out?” The boy asked.
“No.” The blonde said sternly. “We have a pretty strong union, so your wish cannot involve anything that involves me touching any part of your anatomy, got it?”
Gene looked surprised. “Then why do you look like that?”
“My outward countenance is a reflection of your id and what you perceive as the ideal woman. My internal paradigm and prospective are the results of thousands and thousands of years of experience and wisdom.” Zara explained.
Dumbfounded Gene asked. “What?”
Again, the mystic entity rolled her eyes. “You control what I look on the outside I control the me on the inside.”
“Too bad.” Gene said wistfully. “Okay, I will settle for Aubrey Plaza and Kat Denning, to appear in my room and then have them make out together.”
“No!” Zara yelled at the nerd. “You don’t get it, this is a pop culture wish, you can’t use them anymore for sexual gratification. It’s a new rule, it’s called the Weinstein clause.”
Gene muttered under his breath. “Okay, then make me the president of the United States, that way porn starts will be falling all over me.” He was actually pretty proud of his decision.
Exasperated the blonde gene said. “You’re really not following this.”
“I can’t wish to be president of the United States?”
“No.” Zara said a bit more’s softly. “I can’t take you from being a nerd living in your mother’s basement, to the Oval Office. If you were a famous movie or TV star, I could do it, like I did with Reagan and Trump. You don’t seem to be getting the fact that I am a pop culture gene.”
“Okay, make me famous. I want to be a world famous author.” Gene insisted.
“I can’t just take you from a no talent hack to a successful author. Well not anymore, you can’t believe how much trouble granting Stephanie Myers wish got me in.” Zara shivered, as she remembered the cosmic backlash from that one. “If I could wish you in to a successful and popular writer, don’t you think that every other goat farmer in Oregon, would be a bestselling writer? You don’t seem to understand what I’m trying to grant to you. I’m offering you a wish that will effect pop-culture.”
“So, let’s see if I got this right.” Gene said, “my wish cannot involve the sexy time with you, cannot involve the sexy time of two Burnett actresses making out, and it can’t get me power over the executive office of the United States. It seems like a pretty lame wish to me.”
“It’s a free wish.” Zara said frustrated. “Why don’t I just take my free pop-culture wish and take it to someone who will appreciate it. You don’t have to use it.”
“Sorry.” Gene said sheepishly. “I’m just not quite getting what you’re saying.”
Zara took a deep breath and began to explain again slowly. Let me give you some examples. Have you ever wondered why Daenerys wasn’t kill off on season one of game of Thrones? How Nickelback won a Grammy? Or Star Trek got a third season.”
Flicker of recognition appeared on Gene’s face. “You mean?”
“Yes.” The blonde replied, with a glint of success in her eyes. “They were all because of wishes that a fan made, that I granted. I grant wishes to change something in pop culture, any change you want to make in pop culture, I can do it. You want Cyclops to leave Emma Frost and get back with Jean Grey, I can make it happen. You want to make it, so Ben doesn’t kill his dad on solo, just say the word. You want Bob Dylan to start writing songs for Rebecca Black, I’m your girl.”
“Well there is this one TV show, that if I could change it… I would…” The fan said “it’s called Firefly, ever hear of it.”
“I have.” The genie said cautiously.
“It started out as this most amazing TV show,” Gene explained, “but it just went on for too long. I mean it was good at first, but later seasons sucked worse than season two of Air Wolf. It pretty much destroyed everyone associated with it. Nathan Fillion, got typecast, never worked again, he became a has-been. Jewell Staite, started out as this cute and nice Canadian actress by the end of season seven she was this terrible prima donna, that nobody wanted to work with. Joss Wheadon, literally went mad spent the rest of his short life in a nut house. Not to mention the tragic on set fire during season eight that nearly burned down all of Vancouver…. It would’ve been better if it had just not lasted as long as it did.”
“So, what you’re saying is that it was good that James Dean, died young, or otherwise he would’ve grown old and become Marlon Brando.” Zara said.
“Well not as morbidly as you said it, but I guess, yes.” Gene replied.
“You must say the wish.” The genie prompted.
Eugene thought about and then said. “I wish firefly had gotten canceled in the middle their first season, because of some executive meddling, may be had the first movie afterwards.”
“Granted.” The blonde gene said folding her arms and a flip of her ponytail. There was a bright flash of light and smoke returned into the room.
It was Saturday night and Gene Koski was on line, he had entered a forum where hundreds and hundreds of faithful nerds bemoan the early cancellation of the TV show firefly. As he sat in his mother’s basement room he didn’t reply to the many complaints and anger towards Fox. For he alone knew the disastrous potential outcome if the show had not been canceled.