While walking naked along the beach that surrounds a small lake in Pollyanna, Iowa, I found what looked like an antique lamp.  I jokingly rubbed it.

     Amazingly, a less-than-genial genie materialized.

     “Thanks for releasing me from my prison, you naked bitch.  What year is it?”

     “2010.”

     “You mean I’ve been in this state of limbo for three thousand years?”

     “Iowa hasn’t even been around for two hundred years.”

     “What?”

     “This state — it’s called Iowa.”

     “By state I meant condition, you fuckin’ smart ass.”

     “Hey, if you’ve been in limbo for three thousand years, how come you’re talkin’ in twenty-first century vernacular?  And how could you possibly know you were put in that lamp more than a thousand years before the Western world started recording time?”

     “Never mind that — let’s get down to business.  As a reward for freeing me from my imprisonment, you get one wish.”

     “Hey, I thought it was three wishes.”

     “I think it was Friedrich Nietzsche who said, in his book Beyond Good & Evil, ‘If a naked guy with a merely average penis rubs a lamp, and a genie with a much, much larger penis — an absolutely humongous, enormous, stupendous, tremendous, prodigious, titanic, colossal, gigantic, and downright gargantuan penis, as a matter of fact — appears and grants him one wish, but the guy says he needs more than one wish, that megalomaniacal mongoloid motherfucker is neurotic and should be impaled on a church steeple or some other phallic object.’”

     “All right, all right — lemme think a minute.”

     But as I was thinking, some schmuck who had overheard the whole conversation darted out from behind a tree and snatched the lamp from my hands.

     The genie said, “Okay, then, I guess I’ll grant you one wish.”

     “Hey, wait a minute,” I said.  “I’m the one who rubbed the lamp.  I’m the one who released you from your imprisonment.  I’m the one who died on the cross for all of man’s sins.”

     “So what?”

     “So, why does he get the wish?”

     “’Cause it fits the plot.”

     The schmuck smiled and said, “Any wish?”

     “Of course, dumbass.”

     “So I can wish for anything?”

     “No shit, fuckwit.”

     “Anything at all?”

     “Hell yeah, you stupid fuckass bitch!”

     “Okay, I wanna be like God.”

     Needless to say, this put the genie in a rather awkward position.  “Well,” he sighed, “I do hafta grant your wish, whatever it may be.”

     The genie snapped his fingers — and the schmuck ceased to exist.