Author's Note: Hello everyone! This is just a simple comedy one shot AU. I read a joke the other day, and decided to turn it into a short InuYasha fanfic simply for laughs. Well, I'm really not sure how good I am at comedy… So review! Tell me if it was hilarious, or if it was just pretty funny, or if it downright sucked. I'll be glad to hear your opinion. Remember, this is just meant to make you laugh, or at least crack a smile, so don't get on my back about the characters acting different or anything. Anyway… Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own it today, and will not own it tomorrow. Maybe I'll own it yesterday. Wait… what?
The basement was dirty. Despicably dirty. Who in their right mind would just let it all go like this? It looked as if they had just opened the door at the top of the stairs, and thrown all of their junk down without a second thought.
Miroku sighed heavily as he sorted through the mess. There was nothing really interesting in the dingy, damp place. He had expected to find some secret treasure hidden within the boxes… Or at the very least a treasure map. But no such luck for him with this house. He quickly found himself wondering why he had bought it in the first place.
And he suddenly remembered. Had it been because the house was older than two hundred years old? Had it been because the previous owner had mysteriously disappeared? No. It was solely for the pile of vintage Playboys in that one box underneath the broken blender and toaster oven.
"Jackpot!" He cried out happily like a little boy receiving just what he had asked for Christmas. With a mischievous grin on his face, Miroku sat back and enjoyed the old magazines. This would save him a lot of money… He wouldn't have to buy new ones to keep him entertained for a good month.
It wasn't that the magazines had become boring; it was just that there's only so much that you can read on one subject before having to occupy your mind on something else. Miroku opened a new box, hoping for an equally good surprise. With a scowl, he scanned the contents, and found nothing of interest… Save for a teapot like thing with fancy designs all over it.
Having a fetish for such shiny, pretty objects (most people would just call it kleptomania) He picked it up, and examined the fine artwork on the sides. Dust covered some of it, and with his sleeve, he wiped it off gently.
Suddenly, a very beautiful woman materialized in front of his very eyes. "Hello," She said happily.
"Holy Buda, I'm dead!" He yelled, standing up and pinching himself in the arm furiously, "I'm dead! Ow… I have to be dead! Women don't just appe…" He stopped for a moment, considering what had just happened. Suddenly, he grabbed the pot once more and began furiously rubbing it.
"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm the only one in there," The woman said calmly. She smoothed her hands over her green and pink kimono, and sighed. "Here we go again…" She muttered, but changed her voice for him in a moment to a happy and cheerful one, "Good job! You've unlocked a magic genie from her sleep. I shall grant you…" She held her hand towards him, with three fingers sticking out, "…count them, three wishes, and only three!"
"The rules are as such…" She began, taking a deep breath, "You have two weeks to carry out your wishes. After that amount of time, I go back into my lamp, and you will never see me again to get your leftover wishes. Be careful, for even if I am in my bottle miles away, I can still hear and grant your wishes. You cannot tell anyone about me, or I will disappear… and so forth, and so on… it is all same as the last. I can only do what you wish, and nothing else. Understand?" She eyed him warily.
Miroku nodded quickly. Why beat around the bush? He would be wasting valuable wishing time…
"What's your name?" He asked the genie, who floated a foot or so away from him. He seemed to be having trouble coming up with his first wish.
"Sango." She replied dryly, yawning as she did so, "Are you planning to wish anytime soon?"
Miroku looked up at her, though she wasn't looking at him. She was apparently staring at the ceiling. This gave him a chance to look her over, and the view was very nice indeed… He felt his hand twitch a bit. Uh oh… The problem was back. You see… when it came to women, Miroku had a bit of a 'hands to yourself' problem, along with various other mental and physical difficulties.
"And you can only do what I wish?" He asked innocently as his hand reached up towards her…
"HENTAI!" She screamed, slapping him across the face and leaving a hand-sized welt on his cheek.
Miroku rubbed his cheek hurtfully, "I didn't wish for that!" He complained.
"No, but you asked for it," She replied angrily, "Just wish already, lecher, and I can go back to my little bottle, and you can go back to reading… those." She gestured towards the magazines in the corner.
Miroku looked over and gave a nervous chuckle when he realized what she was pointing at. "Oh those…" Was all he could get out.
"I'm not blind, or stupid," She told him, "I am a genie. So make your stupid wishes, and we can all go home."
"I am home," He replied.
She smacked him hard on the back of the head.
"I think I'm ready to make my first wish," Miroku stated, coming downstairs with a glass of sake in his hand.
Sango sighed in relief, "Finally! Go ahead."
"Alright then," he began happily, sitting down on a box in front of the genie, "I wish for a car."
A grin appeared on Sango's face that looked oddly out of place on her. She snapped her fingers, and with a nod over to the other side of the basement, a car appeared. With a delighted laugh, she leaned back in the air and watched.
Miroku however, was not so pleased. He walked over slowly, his mouth gaping, unable to form words. After running his hands over the car a few times to make sure that it was real, he was finally able to speak. "What in the seven hells is this supposed to be??"
"It's your car," Sango replied with that same odd, almost evil, grin on her face, "Don't you like it?"
"Like it?!" He yelled, "Can it even run??"
Before both of them stood the car. It was an old, brown station wagon that looked to be about from the late seventies.
Sango shrugged, "You wished for a car… I got you a car."
Miroku's left eye began to twitch.
"Okay… I can fix this," Miroku said after about half an hour of staring at the rather large, ugly, brown problem in his basement.
Sango's eyebrows shot up in question, "Oh?"
He nodded, a crooked grin returning for the first time in quite a while, "Of course. It's so simple, that I can't understand how I missed it in the first place. All I have to do is wish for money. That can't go wrong."
Sango's expression softened a bit until it was almost a frown, "Alright then. Go ahead if you wish," Her eyes flashed merrily at the slight pun.
Miroku took in a deep breath, thinking quickly how to word it.
"I wish for a billion dollars."
Sango's face was impassive as she snapped her fingers almost grudgingly, and waved her arm next to Miroku.
Ten rather large bags filled to the brim with money suddenly appeared on the dirt floor of the basement. Miroku's eyes widened in shock, and his mouth flew open, loosing the boyish grin. A few blinks and a couple of drool globs later, he finally regained contact between his body and brain.
"It's here, and it's real!" He yelled joyously as he began counting the bills with trembling fingers.
"Of course it's real. What does it look like, Michael Jackson's nose? There's no need to count it," She sighed as she floated by, lounging on her back as if she were lying on a bed, "It's all there, I promise."
"What happened to your hand?" Sango asked. She had become bored with watching Miroku count his money, and was about to start counting the stones that formed the walls, when she noticed a rather large scar in the middle of the monk's right hand.
"Ever call a girl fat?" He asked with a grin, pausing his counting for a moment to speak with her.
Sango raised an eyebrow at him.
"Well… Don't. Especially if you aren't sure whether it's a girl, or a cross dressing man with a knife named Stevo, who keeps pictures of little boys in his wallet, and is apparently very touchy about his weight."
Sango stared at him for a moment before deciding that some questions are better left unanswered. Glancing back over at him, and finding that the boy was extremely engrossed in his money, she decided to go back to her bottle for a while instead of watching him drool. It really wasn't very appealing. "I'm going to go back to my bottle for a while. Call me if you finally decide what you're last wish will be."
"Alright… fine." She heard him mutter. And then, just as she was vanishing back to the bottle, she heard a groan—
"Damn it! I lost count!"
About a week later, after loosing count of the money about five times, depositing it all in his bank account which had currently held a total of three dollars, being accused of stealing the money, spending a night in jail, clearing his name, and finally going home, Miroku was happily driving his car down the highway towards the mall.
With a contented sigh, Miroku turned up the radio and lowered the top. Sango the genie was far from his mind. The past week had been very hectic, especially after meeting up with Stevo again in his jail cell, laughing himself hoarse over… it's ponytail, and finally being almost smothered in his sleep by a very disgruntled wannabe drag queen.
Ah yes, it had been a bad week, but it would get better. After all, he was a millionaire now. (The title of billionaire, he was unhappy to find, vanished after his first purchase.) Of course, at the rate that he was buying things, not much would be left in a short time. But this was just going to be some light shopping… He needed to stock up on frozen pizzas, buy a satellite dish so that he could get the more… desirable channels that were unfortunately scrambled on regular Tv, and that blow up doll that he had always wanted.
It was such a wonderful day to be rich, driving in a freakishly expensive car, and feeling the wind in your hair. Suddenly, his favorite commercial came on over the radio, and joyously, Miroku began to sing with it as loud as he could
"Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Weiner…"
That was about as far as he got.
Extra Author's Note: Now go review and either praise me or flame me. Whatever you like.