The Old Genie Hottabych

A HOSPITAL UNDER THE BED

He who has never had to take care of a sick Genie cannot imagine what a tiring and bothersome affair it is.

First of all, there arises the question of where to keep him. You can’t put him in a hospital, and there’s no question of keeping him in bed at home, where everyone can see him.

Then again, how does one cure a Genie? Modern medicine is useful when one deals with people, not fairy-tale magicians.

And, finally, can people catch Genies’ diseases?

The boys discussed these problems at great length as they rode home in a cab with a delirious Hottabych.

They came to the following decisions:

1. They would not take him to a hospital, but keep him as comfortable as possible under Volka’s bed, suggesting first that, for safety’s sake, he become invisible.

2. They would treat him as they would a person who had a cold. They would give him aspirin and tea with raspberry jam before going to sleep to make him perspire.

3. Genies’ diseases could not possibly be catching.

Fortunately, no one was at home. They made Hottabych comfortable in his usual place under Volka’s bed.

Zhenya ran off to buy some aspirins and raspberry jam, while Volka went to the kitchen to make some tea.

“Well, tea’s ready!” he said cheerfully, entering the room with a boiling kettle. “Let’s have some tea, Hottabych. Hm?”

There was no answer.

“He’s dead,” Volka gasped and suddenly, despite all the unpleasantness Hottabych had caused him, he felt he would miss the old man terribly if he died. “Dear, dear Hottabych!” he babbled, crawling under the bed.

The old man was not there.

“What a crazy old man!” Volka said angrily, forgetting all his tender feelings. “He was here a moment ago, and now he’s disappeared!”

There is no telling what bitter words Volka would have added if Zhenya had not then dashed into the room, dragging a balky Hottabych behind. The old man was mumbling something.

“What a nut! You can’t imagine what a nut he is!” Zhenya shouted as he helped Volka settle Hottabych under the bed again. “I was coming back from the shop and there he was, standing on the corner with a sack of gold, trying to hand it out to passers-by. I asked him, ‘What are you doing here with a high fever?’ And he said, ‘I feel my days are counted. I want to hand out alms on this occasion.’ And I said, ‘You’re nuts! Whom are you going to give alms to? Did you see any beggars here?’ And he said, ‘If that’s the case, I’ll go back home.’ So I dragged him back. You just lie still and get well! There’s no use rushing death!”

They gave Hottabych a mouthful of aspirins, then fed him the whole jar of raspberry jam with tea, and bundled him up tightly to make him perspire.

For a while, the old man lay there quietly. Suddenly, he began to fuss, trying to get up. He said he was going to Sulayman, the Son of David, to ask forgiveness for some long-forgotten ill deeds. Then he began to cry and asked Volka to run down to the Mediterranean Sea and the Indian Ocean and find a copper vessel on the bottom in which his dear brother Omar Asaf ibn Hottab was imprisoned. He wanted Volka to free him and bring him back home.

“We’d all live so happily here!” he mumbled deliriously with. bitter tears pouring down his cheeks.

Half an hour later the old man came to his senses and said in a weak voice from under the bed:

“Oh, my young friends, you cannot imagine how grateful I am for your love and precious attention! Will you please do me a last favour: bind my hands tightly, because I’m afraid I might do such magic while unconscious that I’ll never be able to undo it later.”

They tied him up and he immediately fell soundly asleep.

Next morning Hottabych awoke in the prime of health.

“That’s what medical attention administered in time can do!” Zhenya said with satisfaction. Then and there he decided to be a doctor when he grew up.