The day was stormy; the cold wind blew huge sprays of foam high into the air, so Bud was not surprised to see the Herzliah beach deserted. He, however, was not going to give up his daily thirty-minute run, bad weather or not.

            He had jogged no more than half a kilometer, and was running close to the water, when he saw the bottle. It was an old bottle of greenish glass, and it appeared to be intact.

            Curious, Bud approached, inspected and then picked it up. Looking through it, against the clouds, he could see something moving inside. That was strange. He placed the bottle upright on the sand, and carefully removed the cork.

            At once a cloud emerged from the glassy cylinder, it moved up, then descended and coalesced, and there he was, the figure of a middle-aged man, dressed in a sleeveless pale blue robe, standing with cross arms. He bowed slightly and spoke in a strong bass: "Yes Master, at your service, and may I say how thankful I am to you for having released me from that prison. Gracias, todah rabah, spasibo"

            Bud was dumbstruck. This couldn't be happening. He looked around, yes he still was on the beach, and his watch showed the right time, and he really had a genie standing before him.

            "What,.. how.. what is your name?" he finally succeeded in uttering.

            "I am called Samastrazubbrabelestros, Master"

            "It's too long to remember!"

            "But it is only a nickname, Master. My true name is much longer; seventy-two letters long times seven. You can call me Sam," he added with a respectful bow.

            Bud was recovering his wits. "So, you really are a genie, Sam? You can do anything I ask?"

            "Almost anything, Master. You can try me, costs nothing."

            "All right, I want a million dollars. Now!"

            Sam smiled. "I'll do it with pleasure, Master, but first I would beg you to consider some details that might have escaped your wisdom."

            "What details?"

            "The matter of taxes, for instance. Let us assume that I deposit in your bank account one million dollars. The bank must communicate this to the authorities. Where did the money come from? Is this a form of money-laundering? You will get into a world of trouble, Master. Think of something else, perhaps, as Zeno said, haste is like oil on the soles of your sandals."

            "Why can't you give me bank notes, instead?"

            The genie smiled and bowed again. "That wouldn't solve the problem, would it? You have to prove where the money came from. Saying that a genie gave it to you won't make the income tax guys very happy."

            Bud considered the matter, perhaps the genie was right. Better not to rush and fall into a trap. He thought for a moment, then asked: "How about building me a mansion on the beach? Not too luxurious, just a dozen of rooms, a bathroom for every room, sauna, pool, you know, the basics."

            "Master, I will be only too happy to comply with your wishes, but consider the implications. Where should I build your house? The owner of the land will be very interested in knowing who gave you permission to build on his land. And then, there is the matter of the building license. Of course, I can do everything myself, but the carpenters' union has strong connection in the municipal council; then, the materials, I can filch them from other sites, of course, and bring them here, but what if the loss is noted and they find the gold-plated faucets missing in Dubai installed in your bathroom? One has to take into account all implications of one's actions, as Plato wrote in a dialog now lost."

            Bud was getting tired. "Look, Sam, let's sit there in that café, and talk this over. You are not what I expected."

            The other bowed and said he was sorry to disappoint his master. "Don't forget the bottle," he added. "Phoenician glass is very expensive."

            They sat down and asked for two double espressos. "Do you really drink coffee?" asked Bud. "Of course, Master. I can do anything I want."

            "So long as it's not something I ask," muttered Bud. While waiting for the coffee to arrive, he tried something else.

            "How about a better job?" he asked, "one that will make me rich in a short time."

            The genie's eyes brightened. "Excellent idea! This will be easy. Tell me, what are your special qualifications?"

            "Don't you know? Sam, my friend, you are a sorry genie if I ever saw one. But coming to your question, I am an accountant at French Car Imports United, Inc., in the credit department."

            Sam mulled this information. "Well, I can teach you how to juggle the books. Or else, I could give you the combination of the central safe, the one that holds the keys to all the others. You can then take whatever you want…"

            Bud was appalled. "This is the best you can do? You are nuts! You want me to go to prison? What kind of genie are you anyway?"

            Sam, bowed his head. "Deeply sorry, Master, I wasn't thinking clearly. Would you like me to pay for the coffee? I'll make the waitress believe that I gave her a 100 dollar bill, and she'll bring me the change."

            "You are an immoral bastard!" shouted Bud, getting up. "The poor girl will have to pay the missing money out of her pocket!"

            "I am so sorry. This is a different society, I see. Not at all like Alexander's court. Let me see…" he looked at Bud considering, then brightened up. "I know, I could change your face, make the nose shorter, the eyes bluer, return the missing hair, push the ears closer to the skull. I short, make you a handsome man!"

            Bud was infuriated. "This is too much! Now you tell me how ugly I am? And didn't you know that I wouldn't be able to pass immigration controls, because my passport photo would be different, and the records in the Ministry of the Interior too, I wouldn't be able to travel!"

            They sat there, looking for other possibilities.

            "Perhaps an invention," said Bud finally. "Let me find some invention that will make me rich like Bill Gates, even a half of what he has, enough for me."

            "No problem at all, Master," said Sam with a bow. "What kind of invention would you like? Medical, mechanical, electronic, digital, chemical, biological…"

            "Stop! I don't care what kind. Just do it!"

            "But, Master, you first have to build the appropriate laboratory. Otherwise nobody will take you seriously. Perhaps it would be better to get first a doctorate in the proper university. I understand now it's not like in the time of the Academe. Yes, a doctorate, then post doctoral studies in the Sorbonne – I like French cuisine – and then I'll think of a suitable Nobel prize."

            "Go to hell!" screamed Bud. "I don't have time or interest in getting a doctorate in anything!"

            "But, Master, I need a little cooperation on your part. You know, I am not you know Who."

            "This settles it!" said Bud. "Go back into the bottle and think it over, what you can do for me without my intervention, is that clear?"

            "Yes, Master, You order and I obey."

            The genie promptly vanished, absorbed into the bottle, which Bud immediately plugged with the cork.

            A man who had been sitting at the next table observed this development with rapt attention. He rose and came to Bud.

            "Is that real, what I saw?" he asked anxiously. "Is that really a genie?"

            Bud regarded him and calculated the risk of being taken for a blazing nut case. "Well," he said, "you saw what happened. Well… Yes. He's a genie."

            "Vow!" said the other. "Look. Would you be willing to sell me the bottle with the genie? I am rich, set your price".

            After some haggling, Bud sold the genie for half a million dollars. 

            The other man went home singing. He finally had found a gift for his wife's birthday that nobody else would have been able to give her. He was happy.

            Inside the bottle, the genie was laughing.