The Brass Bottle Page #5

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hasn't bothered you in years.

Besides, you're always

complaining about

stiff, formal dinners.

I think this is fun.

Saints in heaven.

What's that?

Surely they don't mean

that for music.

Oh, no, actually, it--

it's much more harmonious

than it sounds.

You've got to get used to it.

See?

They were just tuning up.

Harold,

what is it they're sprinkling?

I don't know.

Oh, Seneschal.

- Seneschal?

That's his name.

Sam Seneschal.

Yes, master?

Oh, what is that fragrance, Sam?

Myrrh and frankincense, O lord.

Hmm, it's exotic, isn't it?

Well, I think it's sickening,

particularly at mealtime.

Please open the window.

Even smog is preferable to this.

Mrs. Kenton:

What is that?

A rare Phoenician delicacy,

O nobly born.

The eyes of mountain lambs

cooked in honey.

Anthony, they're staring at me.

I think I'm gonna be ill.

Also from the caterer?

Yes.

Actually,

she does this to support

an invalid aunt.

I have had enough of this.

Let's get out of here.

Please, Professor Kenton.

Mrs. Kenton.

Please, Sylvia.

The least you can do

is let me explain.

Very well. Go ahead.

I didn't do this.

He did.

Who did?

I can't tell you.

All this outrageous nonsense

had to be deliberate.

Well, you've succeeded.

You've convinced me

you haven't changed a bit.

If anything, you're worse.

Papa, I'm going to Europe

with you and Mama.

Please, Sylvia. Wait.

Please, Sylvia.

Please.

Leave her alone.

It's time

she came to her senses.

I've got nothing to lose.

I'll tell you.

With your knowledge

of oriental history,

you just might believe it.

Believe what?

Professor, the other day

I bought an old brass bottle,

like the lamp

in your front hall, only older.

There was strange writing

on the seal.

I forced it open.

Go on.

Well, there was a genie in it.

A genie?

Like the one out

of Aladdin's lamp?

Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?

I always thought

they were fairy tales.

- And you don't now?

- Well, how can I

when just like that

he turned this whole place

into a sultan's palace?

I always thought

you were eccentric.

But yours, Mr. Ventimore,

is a sad, sad case.

Ahh.

Oh, so now you show up?

Delicious.

Try one, Harold.

The first lamb's eye I've eaten

in 3,000 years.

Where were you

when I needed you?

I'm afraid your guests

were most unappreciative.

I arranged a dinner

to please a caliph.

Unfortunately,

I wasn't entertaining a caliph.

And those slaves.

That Seneschal.

What slaves?

What Seneschal?

Why didn't you ask me

before you arrange this

Arabian nightmare?

Be grateful.

It's the best thing

that could've happened,

getting rid of that stupid man

and his family.

I didn't want

to get rid of Sylvia.

Ahh.

Peacock tongues

in oil of sesame.

I'll admit Ms. Kenton

is not without a charm,

but she is no comparison

to the beauties who adorned

the Court of King Solomon.

Say the word,

and I'll bring you

a hundred wives to replace her.

Don't be ridiculous.

Fifty?

Not even two.

It's against the law for a man

to have more than one wife.

A revolting waste of man power.

Very well,

since there can only be one,

she must be the best of all.

You shall marry

a princess of the Jinn.

I'm not going to marry anyone

but Sylvia.

Tezra-el-Jamal,

daughter of my distant kinsman,

Shahyal.

Ruler of the Blue Jinn.

It was because of the princess

that King Solomon

imprisoned me in the bottle.

I wish you were still in it.

Tezra,

lovelier than the full moon

and graceful as a gazelle.

When she walks,

the branches of the willow

turn green with envy.

Didst thou summon me,

O My lord, Fakrash-el-Aamash?

Yeah, Tezra.

Too long have we been separated.

Verily, it seemeth

a hundred years.

It was 3,000.

And greatly

has the world changed, Tezra.

But I have assured

thy happiness.

I have chosen for thee

to wed a mortal,

but the best of mortals.

A prince among princes.

A man of such magnificence,

his brilliance

makes the sand turn pale

in comparison.

He stands tall and straight

like the cedars of Lebanon

and has the heart of a lion.

And when he walks,

the ground trembles

and the mighty oak turns green

with envy.

Behold, Tezra.

Ask of me what thou wilt,

O master.

I don't wilt anything.

Please get up, Miss.

Look at her, my boy.

The eyes, the lips, the skin,

and the figure.

The figure, Harold.

Turn around, Tezra.

Slowly.

Slowly.

Well, what do you say, my boy?

I'll take Sylvia.

We of the Green Jinn

have infinite patience,

but-- but mine is wearing

a little thin.

So is mine.

I didn't ask you

to bring her here.

Please don't

misunderstand, Miss.

You-- you're very lovely,

but I happen to be in love

with somebody else.

Then pray, may I grace thy harem

as one of thy lesser favorites.

I don't have a harem.

They have a strange custom

these days, Tezra.

One wife to a man.

Verily.

It took us 3,000 years,

but we have prevailed.

I shall find this changed world

most pleasing.

Another time perhaps, Tezra.

Now thou shall depart

and await my next summon.

Depart, Tezra.

Farewell.

Depart, Tezra.

Go, I say.

I refuse.

You can't refuse.

I am an Efreet

of the Green Jinn.

And I'm a princess

of the Blue Jinn.

I have no wish to depart.

Thy power is no match for mine.

Oh, great.

You wanted to give me

a hundred like that?

Perhaps thy century is wiser.

Tezra, I beg of you...

- No.

Then I shall go.

She is thine, my son.

Mine?

No.

Wait, Mr. Fak--

Mr. Fakrash.

Mr. Fakrash.

Mr. Fakrash.

Have no fear, he will return.

- When?

- Who knows?

Mayhap in another 3,000 years.

What am I supposed to do

with you in the meantime?

Come.

Sit beside me.

Perhaps I can help you

think of something.

No. You-- uh,

you'd better go to a hotel.

If that be thy desire, O master,

tell me what is a hotel

and I will go there.

On second thought,

I'll go to a hotel.

In that outfit,

you'd be picked up in a minute

by the police.

Lock the door

and don't let anyone in.

And whatever you do,

don't go out.

I'll be back in the morning

with some clothes for you.

What size are you?

- Size?

Can the females of today

truly walk in these?

Yes. Don't ask me how.

Ooh.

This is wondrously beautiful.

I shall enjoy being a woman

in thy century, master.

I am not thy master.

My name is Harold.

What is that?

It's a girdle.

- It is worn?

- Yes.

But how?

Well, you just

step into it and...

It is too small.

No.

It stretches.

See?

You just put your feet

through it.

Uh, and wiggle up in it

as best as you can.

I see that art not unacquainted

with such matters.

Well, how else

would you get into it?

There's somebody at the door.

I hope you'll be tactful,

Dr. Travisley.

Ms. Kenton, the first thing

a psycho-analyst learns

is tact.

- Sylvia.

- Harold,

this is Dr. Travisley.

May we come in?

- Yes.

- Darling,

after what father told me,

I couldn't sleep all night.

I discussed it with the doctor

and he-- he wants

to talk to you.

- What about?

- About that-- that delusion

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