Whoo! Another short one! And it's getting absolutely nowhere. I apologise in advance for this. It's 11:30 at night, and I'm extremely tired. I've been tired all week. So, if it's excessively stupid, or there are any glaring mistakes, sorry. Probably best to just let me know.

Again, Inuyasha and IDOJ aren't mine. Hence why this is FANFICTION!

Chapter four: The greatest thing since instant ramen.

The girl crossed her arms. She blinked once, bobbing her head with it, and it was done.

"...please thee, Master." The beginning of her sentence was indeed in Persian, but the end was in Japanese. This, of course, pleased Miroku very much.

"You beautiful..." Before he could even really begin his sentence, he was cut off by a rather loud shriek.

"HA! I knew it! It is a Genie! Look at her costume! And the bottle and the blinking... it's the only explanation..." Kagome cut in, suddenly bursting into the small crowd that had formed out of nowhere. Of course, Inuyasha had to put in his two cents.

"NO SHE ISN'T! She's a bloody trap set by Naraku! Jeez! How many times do I have to tell you, IT'S A TRAP!" Poor Inuyasha. No one was listening to his rant anymore.

"A Genie? Are you really a Genie? What's a Genie?" Shippou, now standing on the girl's shoulder, asked, "No, really, what's a Genie? Is it a type of food?"

"No, no Genies are not food. Genies are Genies, I do not know how else to describe it, little one. And yes, I am a Genie." Miroku had crowded even closer to her by now. He could have sworn she had called him master. If he were her master, then she should do anything he asked of her... best to learn her name first.

"Dear, beautiful Genie, what is your name?" Miroku seemed rather smitten, like he is with all beautiful women.

"Why, master, that is my name. I am Jeannie."

"And am I to understand that you will grant any wish I ask, because I'm your master?"

"Yes master." Miroku's eyes immediately sparkled. She would do anything he asked... she was the greatest thing since instant ramen!

Yes, again I'm truly very sorry. It's the tired. I swear. It's not that I'm awful... or maybe it is. Oops.