The Clever One
by Winston
When Starlight Glimmer rubbed the antique Saddle Arabian lamp, smoke unexpectedly billowed out. Sort of. She’d half-expected this, based on a hunch that the old myth wasn’t entirely full of it, which was why she’d bought the lamp in the first place. It revealed a djinn, and her first question was to show politeness by asking the djinn’s name. Her second question was how many wishes she was due.
And, naturally, her first wish was the inevitable attempt to wish for more wishes.
“No.” Serhoofina (for that was the djinn’s name) shook her ethereal, flame-formed head, equally inevitably denying the request. “Everypony tries that, of course. But there are rules.”
“Okay.” Starlight pondered the situation for a moment. “Then I wish to be allowed to change the rules governing permitted wishes,” she pronounced.
“I just said, no wishing for more—”
“I didn’t,” Starlight interrupted Serhoofina. “I only wished to be able to change the rules, not for more wishes.”
Serhoofina scowled. “Fine.” She raised and clopped down her right forehoof. Poof. A burst of smoke rose from it. “Granted.”
Starlight grinned with delight. “Okay! I wish to be allowed to wish for more wishes,” she continued.
“I—” Serhoofina’s scowl deepened. “You may indeed wish for that, now, and I’m obliged to grant it. So!” Once again, she raised and clopped down her right forehoof. Poof. “Granted. That’s two out of three used. I don’t suppose there can there be any question as to what the third will—”
“I wish for infinite wishes!” Starlight burst out, grinning with giddy delight.
Sighing deeply, Serhoofina raised and clopped down her right forehoof a third time. Poof. “Granted.”
They stood staring at each other for a while, Starlight’s face alight with a self-satisfied smile, while Serhoofina just looked blank.
“Would you like to start making the first of your no doubt soon-to-be many wishes now, then?” she finally asked.
“Whoa whoa whoa, no! Not just like that.” Starlight shook her head. “Magical wishes are pretty serious business. I have a feeling it’s best to think things through and be careful with them.”
“Oh, yes, obviously,” Serhoofina muttered, voice thick with sarcasm, rolling her ghostly eyes.
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“Oh jeeze. Oh no. This is bad. This is so bad.” Starlight huffed and puffed, on the verge of hyperventilating. She paced back and forth, for all of the three steps there were to pace inside the walk-in closet where she was hiding.
“You said ice cream,” Serhoofina replied innocently, “and now there’s ice cream. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is there’s so much of it!” Starlight snapped, half-shouting while she scooped cold dessert out of her mane and tossed it on the ground helplessly.
“Yeah, and you probably should have asked if the emissary was allergic, too,” Serhoofina added.
“She’s allergic?!” Starlight struggled not to scream, glaring with an apoplectic eye-twitch.
“I don’t know.” Serhoofina shrugged. “Probably not. You just should have asked, is all.”
“Stop doing that!” Starlight snarled.
“Doing what?” Serhoofina frowned. “You’re the one making the wishes.”
“Yeah, well, right about now I wish there was some sort of… of… undo button, or something,” Starlight said, returning to pacing.
“I don’t know, you wished yourself into this, and look where you are. You really want to try wishing your way out, too?” Serhoofina asked.
“I don’t see another way, not on such short notice,” Starlight groaned. “I’m already sunk. Double-or-nothing is a terrible, desperate bet to have to make, but here I am. So yes. I wish for, uh… Let’s see.” She pondered. “Since something like this is likely to happen again, I could use something more permanent and more convenient than just burning a wish to undo a single previous wish every time… So yes, that’s what I want. I wish for an undo button that always undoes my most recent wish.”
Serhoofina clopped down her right forehoof. Poof. “Granted.”
A small metal box with a single button on it appeared, hovering in midair between the two of them. Starlight grasped it in her magic and pulled it to herself, and quickly pushed the button with her hoof.
The box vanished.
Starlight blinked.
“Uhhh… what?”
“You hit the undo button,” Serhoofina explained. “It undid your most recent wish.”
A look of dawning chagrin clouded Starlight’s expression. “…And my most recent wish was for an undo button.” She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hoof. “Because of course this would happen.”
“Now you’re catching on!” Serhoofina said brightly. “You’re a clever one, Starlight Glimmer.”
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“Okay, I’m ready to admit it,” Starlight said miserably, hanging her head. She shook the soot out of her coat and singed hair, letting it fall and settle on the map room floor in the crystal castle. “I’m terrible at making wishes.”
“Aww, don’t feel bad.” Serhoofina patted Starlight’s withers gently with a sympathetic hoof. “Everypony’s terrible at it. They all think they have it figured out and they’re gonna be great at it, but they never are. And anyway, this is only the second time everything’s ended up on fire. Most of them take until the third time to realize it. Which, coincidentally, is also when they’re out of wishes.”
“Is this all to teach me some sort of lesson about hubris?” Starlight finally looked up, grinning weakly through her bruises.
“Well, if you take it on your own initiative to get some self-reflection out of this, then in my opinion you’re one of wiser ponies I’ve ever met,” Serhoofina said. “But no, not really. No lessons. I just do wishes. Don’t know what to tell you.”
“A mere pony was not meant to have this kind of power,” Starlight moaned.
“You know, I think you might be on to something there,” Serhoofina agreed. “There’s hope for you yet, Glimmer.”
Starlight walked toward one of the crystal chairs, limping slightly in her left rear leg. “I wish I’d never found your stupid lamp and I wish I’d never made any wishes at all!” she griped.
“Ooooh! Finally! We’re doing something I want to do,” Serhoofina said happily. “Granted!”
Starlight’s eyes widened with sudden-growing panic.
“Wait, what—”
Serhoofina’s hoof slammed down. Poof.