by Pirate Turner
It was always cramped in his bottle. The small room he had was far too small for Carpet to come in or even any other Genie to drop in. Genie sighed as he stretched out, as best he could, on his couch. He was dressed in only his bell bottom pants and a couple of his gold bands that day, and he ran a hand over his beard as he sighed. He reached for an incense stick and started puffing, knowing full well that only a snort of willow would work to calm his frenzied nerves from the day's adventuring.