A story
The Fisherman and the Grumpy Genie (from One Thousand and One Nights)
There was once an old fisherman who lived in a little hut by the sea. Every morning, before the sun came up, he walked down to the beach with his big brown net. He had a rule. He threw his net into the sea only four times each day. Whatever he caught, he took home to his wife and children, and he was thankful for it.
One morning, the fisherman threw his net for the first time. It felt very heavy. "What a catch!" he thought. He pulled and pulled. But when the net came out of the water, there was only an old boot inside, full of seaweed.
The fisherman laughed. "Well, a boot is not breakfast," he said. "But it is still a gift from the sea." He put it aside.
He threw his net for the second time. This time, he pulled up a broken clay pot full of sand. He threw it for the third time and pulled up a tangle of shells and pebbles.
"Only one more try," he said. He looked up at the sky. "Please let it be something good." He threw the net for the fourth time.
When he pulled it in, there was something round and shiny inside. It was a small copper jar, green with age. Its lid was sealed tight with a heavy stamp of old metal.
"Maybe there is something inside," the fisherman thought. "Maybe I can sell it at the market." He took out his little knife and carefully pried open the lid.
At first, nothing happened. Then a thin curl of purple smoke drifted out of the jar. It grew thicker and thicker. It rose up to the sky and spread out like a cloud. Then the smoke swirled together, and there stood a giant genie. He was as tall as a palm tree, with a big round face and a very grumpy frown.
The fisherman dropped the jar on the sand. His knees wobbled.
"At last!" roared the genie, stretching his huge arms. "Free! Free after hundreds and hundreds of years!"
"You are welcome," said the fisherman politely, though his voice shook a little.
The genie looked down at him and frowned even harder. "Welcome? Hmph," he said. "Do you know how long I waited in that jar? For the first hundred years, I said, I will give the one who frees me all the gold in the world. Nobody came. For the next hundred years, I said, I will give the one who frees me three wishes. Still nobody came. By the third hundred years, I was so cross that I said, the one who frees me will have to be my servant forever, and sweep my cave, and polish my boots, and never go home again."
"But that is not fair," said the fisherman. "I just set you free!"
"Fair or not, a genie's promise is a genie's promise," said the genie, folding his arms. "You will come with me."
The fisherman thought of his wife and children waiting at home. He did not want to sweep a genie's cave forever. He looked at the tiny copper jar lying on the sand. Then he looked up at the enormous genie. An idea popped into his head.
"Before I go with you," said the fisherman, "will you answer one small question?"
"Ask quickly," grumbled the genie.
"You are so very tall," said the fisherman. "Your head is up in the clouds. And that jar is so very small. It is only as big as my hand. I simply do not believe that you were ever inside it."
"Of course I was inside it!" boomed the genie.
The fisherman shook his head and smiled. "I am sorry, but I cannot believe it. Not unless I see it with my own eyes."
The genie puffed out his cheeks. Nobody had ever called him a fibber before. "I will show you!" he shouted. And at once, he turned back into purple smoke. The smoke swirled around and around, smaller and smaller, and poured back into the little copper jar, all the way down to the last wisp.
"There!" came a small voice from inside the jar. "Do you believe me now?"
Quick as a wink, the fisherman popped the lid back on. "Yes," he said. "Now I believe you."
"Hey!" squeaked the genie. "Let me out!"
The fisherman sat down on the sand next to the jar. "I will let you out," he said gently, "but first, let us talk. I did a kind thing for you. When someone does a kind thing, it is good to say thank you. It is not good to make them your servant."
The jar was quiet for a long time. The waves washed in and out. At last, a much smaller voice said, "You are right. I was so cross from waiting that I forgot how to be grateful. I am sorry."
"Then promise," said the fisherman, "that you will not make me your servant, and you will not trouble anyone else."
"I promise," said the genie. "A genie's promise is a genie's promise."
So the fisherman opened the lid. Out swirled the purple smoke, and there stood the genie again, as tall as a palm tree. But this time, he was smiling.
"Thank you, fisherman," said the genie, and he bowed low. "Thank you for setting me free. And thank you for teaching me a lesson I had forgotten. Now, let me thank you properly. Follow me."
The genie led the fisherman over a hill to a hidden lake that sparkled like glass. In it swam fish of four beautiful colors: white, red, blue, and yellow. "Cast your net here once each day," said the genie. "Take these fish to the market. They are the most delicious fish in the land. But only cast once a day."
The fisherman did just as the genie said. The fish were so beautiful and so tasty that the Sultan himself bought them for his royal kitchen. The fisherman's family was never hungry again.
And every evening, when the fisherman sat outside his hut, a little purple cloud would drift by in the sky. The fisherman would wave. And from the cloud would come a faraway voice saying, "Thank you!"
One morning, the fisherman threw his net for the first time. It felt very heavy. "What a catch!" he thought. He pulled and pulled. But when the net came out of the water, there was only an old boot inside, full of seaweed.
The fisherman laughed. "Well, a boot is not breakfast," he said. "But it is still a gift from the sea." He put it aside.
He threw his net for the second time. This time, he pulled up a broken clay pot full of sand. He threw it for the third time and pulled up a tangle of shells and pebbles.
"Only one more try," he said. He looked up at the sky. "Please let it be something good." He threw the net for the fourth time.
When he pulled it in, there was something round and shiny inside. It was a small copper jar, green with age. Its lid was sealed tight with a heavy stamp of old metal.
"Maybe there is something inside," the fisherman thought. "Maybe I can sell it at the market." He took out his little knife and carefully pried open the lid.
At first, nothing happened. Then a thin curl of purple smoke drifted out of the jar. It grew thicker and thicker. It rose up to the sky and spread out like a cloud. Then the smoke swirled together, and there stood a giant genie. He was as tall as a palm tree, with a big round face and a very grumpy frown.
The fisherman dropped the jar on the sand. His knees wobbled.
"At last!" roared the genie, stretching his huge arms. "Free! Free after hundreds and hundreds of years!"
"You are welcome," said the fisherman politely, though his voice shook a little.
The genie looked down at him and frowned even harder. "Welcome? Hmph," he said. "Do you know how long I waited in that jar? For the first hundred years, I said, I will give the one who frees me all the gold in the world. Nobody came. For the next hundred years, I said, I will give the one who frees me three wishes. Still nobody came. By the third hundred years, I was so cross that I said, the one who frees me will have to be my servant forever, and sweep my cave, and polish my boots, and never go home again."
"But that is not fair," said the fisherman. "I just set you free!"
"Fair or not, a genie's promise is a genie's promise," said the genie, folding his arms. "You will come with me."
The fisherman thought of his wife and children waiting at home. He did not want to sweep a genie's cave forever. He looked at the tiny copper jar lying on the sand. Then he looked up at the enormous genie. An idea popped into his head.
"Before I go with you," said the fisherman, "will you answer one small question?"
"Ask quickly," grumbled the genie.
"You are so very tall," said the fisherman. "Your head is up in the clouds. And that jar is so very small. It is only as big as my hand. I simply do not believe that you were ever inside it."
"Of course I was inside it!" boomed the genie.
The fisherman shook his head and smiled. "I am sorry, but I cannot believe it. Not unless I see it with my own eyes."
The genie puffed out his cheeks. Nobody had ever called him a fibber before. "I will show you!" he shouted. And at once, he turned back into purple smoke. The smoke swirled around and around, smaller and smaller, and poured back into the little copper jar, all the way down to the last wisp.
"There!" came a small voice from inside the jar. "Do you believe me now?"
Quick as a wink, the fisherman popped the lid back on. "Yes," he said. "Now I believe you."
"Hey!" squeaked the genie. "Let me out!"
The fisherman sat down on the sand next to the jar. "I will let you out," he said gently, "but first, let us talk. I did a kind thing for you. When someone does a kind thing, it is good to say thank you. It is not good to make them your servant."
The jar was quiet for a long time. The waves washed in and out. At last, a much smaller voice said, "You are right. I was so cross from waiting that I forgot how to be grateful. I am sorry."
"Then promise," said the fisherman, "that you will not make me your servant, and you will not trouble anyone else."
"I promise," said the genie. "A genie's promise is a genie's promise."
So the fisherman opened the lid. Out swirled the purple smoke, and there stood the genie again, as tall as a palm tree. But this time, he was smiling.
"Thank you, fisherman," said the genie, and he bowed low. "Thank you for setting me free. And thank you for teaching me a lesson I had forgotten. Now, let me thank you properly. Follow me."
The genie led the fisherman over a hill to a hidden lake that sparkled like glass. In it swam fish of four beautiful colors: white, red, blue, and yellow. "Cast your net here once each day," said the genie. "Take these fish to the market. They are the most delicious fish in the land. But only cast once a day."
The fisherman did just as the genie said. The fish were so beautiful and so tasty that the Sultan himself bought them for his royal kitchen. The fisherman's family was never hungry again.
And every evening, when the fisherman sat outside his hut, a little purple cloud would drift by in the sky. The fisherman would wave. And from the cloud would come a faraway voice saying, "Thank you!"
