Monster who... Oh, you want them to do this thing? The thing that's absolutely beneath them? That thing? Fine. They will do it. Very. Very. Slowly. No, slower than that. Have we learned our lesson yet, or do we need to keep repeating the same mistakes?
"Is this really necessary," I pleaded.
"As I said, your wish is my command," replied the genie, tone conveying only the utmost respect and deference. They continued building up the stack in front of them.
"Yes, I know, I know how this works. I just kind of imagined there would be some magic involved."
"Why, what could be more magical than something made deliberately, and with love!"
"I didn't mean to insult you or anything! I just wanted to start with something simple, something innocuous, to see-"
"To see if I would maliciously interpret your words? To follow the letter of the request to a fault, while bending the spirit of it towards whatever cruel outcome I decided to inflict upon you? Of course you did; such is your perogative, as my most recent liberator." The genie turned to walk across the room, ever so slowly and carefully retrieving another delicately thin slice of aged, cured pork. "How could I possibly take offense to such wise pragmatism?"
The genie turned and gave me the most serene and pleasant smile, and ever so softly and gently placed the slice of ham onto the layer of hand-washed lettuce, which sat upon a homemade aioli made with free-range eggs, atop the bottom half of a fresh-baked rye bun.
". . . I'm sorry," I grumbled, along with my stomach.
