I wanted to be Princess Jasmine. I applied for Jasmine and auditioned in a Jasmine costume. They went with the busty girl instead … even though she mispronounced the tiger’s name. (It’s RAH-juh, you twit. Not RAY-juh.)
I gotta hand it to her, though. Jasmine’s pretty good. She and Aladdin—who she’s dating, naturally—do this stunt hourly where Genie gives Aladdin the power to charm a snake out of a basket. We’re only required to pose, chat up the guests and sign autographs. If I had nice shaded digs like they enjoy over in Morocco, maybe I’d be inspired to perform tricks, too. The execs eat that shit up. They call it “ingenEARity.” The Aladdin/Jasmine/Genie line is always long. As Pocahontas, I’m practically chasing down kiddies for photo ops.
Genie’s been after me for weeks. He’s bald and fat. What am I gonna do with that? Last weekend, I relented. After Genie inhaled his prime rib, he asked if I was going to finish my salmon, his fork already hovering above my plate. When the check came, he told me how much my portion was. Swoon. Still, I let him grope me outside my apartment. I even agreed to another date.
Today, Genie seemed as shocked as all those parents when Aladdin charmed a giant rubber dildo emblazoned with “PROPERTY OF JASMINE” from the basket. (I never said Genie isn’t a good actor.)
I get fitted for my Jasmine costume tomorrow.
This week's Trifecta writing challenge: The entry must be 33-333 words and include the word "charm," as defined below:
to control (an animal) typically by charms (as the playing of music) <charm a snake>
Word count: 333