Colour cartoon-style tattoo of a blue genie reclining on a purple cushion beside a gold lamp with a smoke trail, on the top of a foot.

Blue genie reclining beside a gold lamp on a foot

Other · Colour · Photo

A blue genie lies back on a purple cushion with a curled gold lamp handle raised beside it, and a pale blue smoke trail rises above. The bold black outlines and flat fills give the design a cartoon look, with the lamp shaded in gold and the cushion in purple. The design fills the top of the foot, with the toes visible at the lower right against a purple towel.

Other Smoke Cartoon character

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The boy had been rubbing the brass for a quarter of an hour, which in my experience is the longest anyone manages before losing patience and reaching for a biscuit. I did not get up. Three thousand years of service have taught me that a genie who rises too quickly gets handed a list. So I stayed on my cushion, propped on one elbow, and let the smoke drift out of the spout in long, lazy loops while he shouted at the lamp to hurry up.

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"Are you going to grant my wish or not?" he said. His name was Tobias Wren, or so his mother called him from the top of the stairs, and he had a fistful of conkers and a grievance. He wanted a bicycle bigger than his cousin's, and a dog that would not bite the postman. I told him I could manage the bicycle. I told him the dog was a matter of training. He looked at me the way the very young look at anyone who disappoints them, and I felt the old weight settle on my shoulders.

So I did something no genie is supposed to do. I asked him what he would wish for if the wish were for somebody else. He thought about it with his whole face, as children do, and then said he would wish his grandad's knee would stop hurting on the stairs. I had nothing for that, and I told him so. He nodded as though he had expected it and asked if he could sit on the cushion. I said yes, and we sat there together with the lamp between us while the smoke went up and up and forgot where it was going.

Later his grandad came down the stairs one step at a time, gripping the rail, and the boy waved at him from the cushion. The lamp was still warm in his lap. I curled my gold handle back round my wrist and let him keep it a little longer.