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Error: 404
I spend hours typing in www.threewishes.ord always with the same result.
Error: 404 Server Not Found
I’ve tried typing it in as www.threewishes.org, I don’t find what I want.
I’ve tried it with .com, .edu, .net, dot anything I can think of as an ending.
I’ve tried using a 3 instead of typing out three. I’ve spelled wishes with
a y, I’ve put in underscores, spaces and tried international endings. Nothing.
It always comes back the same.
Error: 404 Server Not Found
The websites that have a name close to what I’m looking for, I scour, looking
for a link, any kind of link. I’ve called the webmasters of these sites asking
for information, but they all say the same thing. “We’ve never had a link to
that site. Sorry, we can’t help you.”
Now I’m placing posts on every chat site I come across. There’s a lot of people
out there, surely one of them has been to, or at least heard of, www.threewishes.ord.
I made bagels for us that morning, our usual breakfast on the days that we
have our big shopping excursions. Bonnie has all the money, I just tag along
because she doesn’t like to go alone, and I have no life.
“Come look at this web site,” Bonnie said, “It’s unbelievable what some people
will post just because they can.”
“What now?” I turned away from the kitchen counter and from my desperate need
for the bagel I’ve just frosted with cream cheese – strawberry cream cheese,
my favorite – these interruptions were becoming very annoying.
Bonnie Jackson, my best friend since we suffered through high school together
as the “fat girls” in a school full of future playboy bunnies, or so we thought,
sat with her hands tucked under her one chin. Liposuction – three years ago
- courtesy of her husband, Peter Jackson, Attorney-at-Law.
She has no one but me and Peter, her only two companions, poor thing. She
could do much better on both counts.
The glow from her new laptop computer on the kitchen table washed the color
from her face and added dullness to her red hair. It contrasted with the highlights
caused by the early morning sun coming through the fashionable Andersen
windows that had been installed only last week to keep up with the Jones.
And I mean literally the Jones, her next-door neighbors, Sam and Anita Jones.
Bonnie can’t stand the Jones, although to their face, she is downright sticky
sweet. I think it’s a waste of time, not to mention money, but it seems to
give Bonnie something to do.
She actually spies on them from her upstairs bedroom windows, too bad for the
Jones; it gives her a bird’s eye view of their home and yard. She told me that
Peter scolds her for this, but I think he is just as bad; he has the fever too.
I don’t think the Jones are aware of the game.
“Look at this!” She demanded.
“Okay, fine, I’ll look” I grabbed the two halves of the bagel, leaving the
crumbs where they lay, and walked to the table.
“Here,” I offered half to Bonnie. With both hands she took
the mouthwatering treat and looked up at me with the green eyes that betray
her true Irish heritage.
“You know I shouldn’t” her attention diverted to the bagel.
“I know. But, you know you want it.” I said playing with her, and then added,
“Peter can always afford more liposuction.”
The glow of anticipation drained from her eyes, I’d spoiled it for her. I’d
taken a perfectly good sinful pleasure and turned it into real life.
I can be such an ass sometimes.
“Scoot over Sweetie so I can see this weird web site you’ve discovered. You
are so good at this internet stuff, really, you amaze me.” This was my poor
attempt to making amends and change the subject at the same time. I knew she
was a little ‘slow’ when it came to computers, and most everything else, but
I figured a little lie might boost her confidence. I felt bad, but like I said,
I’m an ass sometimes.
Bonnie, who always follows orders, moved to the next chair, still holding the
uneaten bagel in her hands. The hurt look on her face was hard to take. My
compliment hadn’t had the desired effect.
I sat in the vacated chair and looked at the screen.
The header read:
BECOME A GENIE IN JUST THREE MINUTES!
Beneath these words blinked a poor copy, but obvious rip-off, of the I dream
of Jeannie opening credits cartoon.
Under the cartoon it read:
JUST CLICK THE MAGIC BUTTON AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SCREEN AND YOU WILL HAVE
THE ABILITY TO GRANT THREE WISHES.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!” I said.
“Told ya so!” Bonnie said and edged up next to me, resting her cheek on my
shoulder. Now, I’m not gay, but I’ve always had an attraction to Bonnie. She’s
everything I’m not. She’s kind. She’s loving. And, to my constant frustration,
she’s touchy feely.
I don’t like to be touched.
I moved my arm towards the laptop as if I was going to push the button, but
really the movement forced her to lift her head off my shoulder.
“You’re not gonna do it are you?”
She can be so naïve at times.
“How did you find this site?” I asked.
“It was a link from another website. One about children, you know how I am
about charities and kids.”
“Yes, I do.” She gave to this charity and to that charity, she was on every
list and they loved her, well, her money anyway. Just another waste
of money; if you ask me.
“What’s the address…………….www.threewishes.ord. That’s not possible. There
is no .ord ending in the web world.”
“Are you sure?” Bonnie gave me a sheepish look. “Cuz, it’s right there.”
“Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think so.” I hate being wrong about anything,
and worse yet, is having to admit it.
“Whatever you say.”
Bonnie avoids confrontation at all cost, even with me.
I took a bite of my bagel. The creamy strawberry taste was incredible; no
other sensation in the world was as good to me, not even sex. Maybe I’m not
doing it right.
“You made a special trip to the store just to get my favorite cream cheese,
didn’t you?” I praised.
Her desire to please others is way over the line. Anything for anybody at
anytime.
Bonnie giggled and got all girly on me just like I knew she would. She soaks
up flattery like her precious starving children would gobble up food. She took
a bite of her strawberry covered half and smiled. That got me back on her good
side.
Mission accomplished.
The button alternated neon green and yellow trying to get my attention. It
did. I looked at the screen.
“We should do this,” I said, “what can it hurt?”
“I don’t think so.”
She’s always been non-adventurous.
“It’s just a joke.” I said.
“I don’t care.” She whined. “I’m not taking any chances.”
“Its not magic, its the internet. Nothing but ones an zeros.”
“What?” I stumped her on that one. I forget sometimes that she lives a sheltered
life and rarely reads anything but House Beautiful and Cosmo,
and she only reads those because she told me she saw them on Anita Jones coffee
table once when she was over at her house for afternoon tea. I remember that
she’d stuck her little finger in the air and raised her upper lip in a snooty
salute when she’d said ‘afternoon tea’. This uncharacteristic animation had
made me laugh. I’d wondered at the time if the Jones were British, but I never
asked.
“Oh, nothing.” I dismissed her question, “I’m gonna do it.” I reached up
and moved my index finger across the small pad, the pointer moved to the flashing
neon button and – click. The hourglass appeared. We waited.
“What’s up? Isn’t something’s supposed to happen.” Bonnie’s face looked to
mine for answers.
“I don’t know,” and I didn’t, “maybe it’s part of the joke.” Not knowing irritates
me. Embarrassment is not my thing.
The screen went bright pink and the words appeared one at a time.
YOU ARE NOW A GENIE.
YOU MAY GRANT SOMEONE THREE WISHES.
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR.
“Oh, this is stupid.” The common sense warning made me feel like an idiot.
I’d been had. “Somebody has too much time on their hands.” I closed the lid
of the laptop. “I don’t think it’s funny.”
“Me neither.” Bonnie commiserated.
“Are we going shopping or not?”
“First I want to check the Nordstrom’s web site to see what’s on sale.”
She took hold of the computer and pulled it towards her; it slid across the
waxy surface of the table. She opened the top.
“What happened? It’s gone blank.”
“What?” More aggravation.
“It’s gone blank.” She repeated.
I spun the laptop back towards me, and hit the ‘enter’ key. Nothing happened
so I hit the ‘enter’ key again, and again. I, like most people, am under the
misguided delusion that if I hit the key enough times it will fix everything.
Of course, it doesn’t.
“Is it broken?”
I heard fear in her tone.
“No Sweetie, you probably just unplugged it when you grabbed it.” I tried
to reassure her, I didn’t want to have to listen to her worried talk all afternoon,
I wanted to enjoy the shopping.
“But it’s running on the battery.”
“What?” I looked at the back of the laptop just to prove to myself that what
she said was true. Sure enough, it was running on battery power. “Lets try
re-booting it.” When all else fails………..reboot.
The computer ran through its cycles and presented Bonnie’s designated home
page. All the ducks were in their rows.
“I’ll type in the address again. It was www.threewishes.ord, right?”
“Right.”
I typed in the address and hit ‘enter’.
Error: 404 Server Not Found
“This is crazy! Are you sure of that address?” I said.
“You saw it too.”
Time to come up with plan B.
“What’s the website you where on that had the link?” I’m persistent, if nothing
else.
“I don’t remember. One of the charity sites.” She put her head down on the
table, maybe bored, maybe upset, maybe sleepy. “Can I look up Nordstrom’s
now?”
It was boredom.
“We’ve already wasted half the morning, lets get going, shall we?” I asked,
but it wasn’t a question, it was an order.
“Okay.” She obeyed. “Just let me grab my keys and purse. Do you wanna take
my car or yours?”
“Let’s take mine.” I said. Anything to hurry her up, she can take forever
to get out the door if you don’t herd her.
We walked out into the fresh spring air. The breeze made it cool enough to
warrant a jacket, but the direct sunlight pricked my skin making me hot and
cold at the same time. Bonnie bundled up in her forest green sweater.
I unlocked my car door, climbed inside and reached across the small expanse
of interior to unlock the passenger door. My transportation, although nice,
was old and outdated compared to Bonnie’s new Range Rover. If it had
belonged to anyone but me, she wouldn’t have been caught dead in it.
I started the engine as she flopped in the seat next to me. The radio came
on loud; I reached for the volume button and turned it down.
“Sorry”
“Oh,” Bonnie said, peering out the window, “there’s Anita.” I heard uncommon
nastiness in her voice; she crossed her arms like a stubborn child who had just
been told ‘no’. She added, “Looking perfect, as always.”
“Why are you so upset with her? Did she get a another new car or something?”
I ragged.
I backed the car out of the driveway, maneuvered around the Range Rover,
and started down the street.
“No, I just don’t like her, that’s all.”
“Whatever.” I replied. It had already been a long morning and it was only
10am.
“Sometimes I wish we hadn’t bought this house two months ago,” she confessed,
“we should have taken that out of state offer, like Peter wanted. Then it never
would have happened.”
“What wouldn’t have happened?” She had a secret. Who would have thought
she could keep a secret from me.
“Oh, nothing.” She reached behind her, grabbed the seat belt, draped it across
her chest and snapped it in the latch.
No one is allowed to dismiss me. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” She tried again to shelve the topic.
I slammed on the brakes causing her to fly forward and be caught by the seat
belt. Not very nice, I know, but it got her attention.
“What are you doing?” She rubbed the spot where the harsh material and her
tender neck had made contact. The green eyes looked at me with disbelief.
“Tell me what happened.” I stepped on the gas.
“Okay fine.” Her hands landed on top of her thighs and a sigh rushed from
her throat. “About two weeks ago, I saw………” she stopped.
I waited. She didn’t talk.
“Do you want me to slam on the brakes again?”
“Okay, okay.”
This had to be a BIG secret.
In one breath, “I saw her and Peter kissing,” flew out of her mouth.
“Oh…my…god. I don’t believe it.” Delicacy aside, I asked, “What did you do?”
“What do you think I did?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking.” I looked at her with a quizzical expression.
I didn’t know how she would handle a situation like this, it had never come
up before.
“I didn’t do anything.” She slumped in the seat and hid her face, and possibly
tears, in her hands. The diamond wedding ring on her finger (2 karats) reflected
the sun and caused me to squint and shield my eyes with my hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She was really getting on my nerves. Yes,
I’m that shallow.
“I don’t know.” Came from under her hands.
It goes against my personality to comfort people, but she was my friend, my
only friend, so I tried. I rubbed her back, clumsy rubbing. This contact disturbed
me. “It’ll be okay, Sweetie,”
She whispered, “I wish she were dead.”
“Alright then!” I faked an upbeat voice. Anything to cheer her up. “I am
the all-powerful genie! I have been given the power to grant three wishes by
the almighty computer gods! And you my dear, have just used two of your three
wishes! Consider them granted!”
“What?” That got her attention. She removed her head from her hands and looked
at me. “That’s not funny.”
She wasn’t appreciating my stab at levity.
“Come on, it’s a joke.” What would it take to lighten the mood? “Okay, listen
up,” I started. “There once was a lady and she found this magic lamp. Stop
me if you’ve heard this one, okay?
She shook her head ‘no’,
I continued, “she started rubbing it and rubbing it and a genie popped out.
He says ‘I am the genie from the lamp, you have freed me, now I will grant you
three wishes.’ So the lady thinks real hard and says, ‘I want a million dollars’.
POOOF, a million dollars appears in front of her. ‘What’s your second wish?’
he asks, and she says ‘I want a Dodge Viper and POOOF, the Viper
appears. Then the genie says ‘What’s your third and final wish?’ You keeping
up with me Bonnie?” I goated.
“Yeah, I’m with you.” She answered.
I should be ashamed of myself.
“Now the lady is worried, she’s only got one wish left, so she says to the
genie ‘I want to think about this for a while, okay?’ and the genie says, ‘Okay,
just remember, the next thing you wish for will be yours.’ And he disappears.
So the lady is cruising around in her new Viper and listening to the
radio when a commercial comes on and she starts to sing along.
‘Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener…’ and POOOF, she’s a hot dog.
Get it?”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“Funny, huh? Stick with me Sweetie, or you might end up as lunch meat.”
I crack myself up.
“I don’t really wish anyone dead, you know………..”
“Too late, I’ve already granted that wish.” Pulling her chain is one of my
favorite pastimes. Why does she hang out with me? “Besides, it’s just a joke.”
“You said two wishes were granted, what was the other?”
“You said ‘I wish we’d never moved into this house’, or something to that affect.”
I reminded her.
“I didn’t mean that either.”
In my best wizard, from the Wizard of OZ, voice I said, “Doesn’t matter.
I can’t read your mind, I can only grant the wishes you speak.”
“This really isn’t funny. I don’t like to be teased like this and you know
it.” Her tears, never far from detonating, exploded. She picked up her purse
from the floorboard and began to rummaged threw it.
Curiosity got me. “What are you looking for?”
“My sunglasses. I can’t very well go shopping with swollen, teary eyes, now
can I?”
The search continued. Papers, brushes, cosmetics and things I don’t have names
for came out of that purse.
I laughed, “They gotta be in there, everything else is.”
She ignored me and searched.
“They’re not here, damn! I wish I’d brought them.”
This was too easy.
“POOOF! Your third and final wish is granted! You gotta start watching what
you say, you just wasted your last wish.” This game was fun. Kickem’ when
they’re down, that’s my motto.
She paused for a moment, gave me a look that I read as: ‘Please stop it’.
Then continued digging in her purse.
“Oh, here they are.” She said and produced her sunglasses
from the bottom of her purse. “They were here all along.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“How else would they get here?”
She’s not getting my joke, “I granted your wish. Remember?”
“I want to go home.”
Ooops! I pushed the game a little too far.
“What?” I asked.
“I want to go home. I’m not feeling well. This whole things got me upset.”
She’s acted flaky before, but today was beyond her normal. Nothing comes between
her and shopping. One too many face lifts, I guess, it’s squeezing her brain.
I spun a U-turn and headed back to her house. Neither of us spoke. This shopping
trip was over.
I pulled into the driveway, set the brake and turned off the engine. “Are
you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” She opened the door and stepped out.
I followed her to make sure she’d be okay, it’s the “girl” code. The sun was
hot, I felt it burning my skin. Time to brave digging under the bathroom sink
and get out the sunscreen.
Bonnie stopped and stared at the Jones front yard. I walked up beside her.
“What is it? Do they have a new something you have to get?”
I’m such an ass. Why can’t I leave well enough alone?
She raised an arm and pointed towards the front step. I followed her finger
and saw Anita Jones sitting slumped in a white whicker chair, no doubt bought
at one of those trendy expensive furniture stores downtown.
“So?”
“She’s not moving.”
“Oh, puuhleeezz!” I seized Bonnie by the shoulders and turned her towards
her own house. “Let’s go inside, it’s getting hot out here.”
Bonnie searched her purse for her keys as we walked to the door, extracted
them and singled out the house key.
“I’m glad to be home,” she smiled at me, “thanks”. She inserted the key into
the lock and tried to turn it. “It’s not working.”
“Maybe you’ve got the wrong key.” I offered; this was taking too long. Standing
out in the sun was making me sweat. I hate to sweat. “Try again.”
“No, I’m sure this is the right key. I can’t open the door.” Her hand shook
as she pulled the key out of the lock; they fell from her grasp onto the ground.
I glanced down at the keys and read the doormat.
WELCOME TO THE STEINBERG HOME
I think this was when Bonnie Jackson lost her mind.
I glance up from the laptop, that’s the last post for today, twenty-seven so
far. I know there will be those people out there who think I’m a nut, a kook,
just another mindless sap with too much time on my hands, but the story I’m
posting is true. I need help. Someone has to have seen, or heard of www.threewishes.ord.
I need to call information to see if they have a listing for Peter Jackson.
I called his law office, but they said he left the practice about two months
ago. No forwarding address. What a chump.
A nurse opening the door interrupts my train of thought. I don’t like this
place, too cold, too sterile, and too gray. Everything is gray.
“Is she going to wake up soon? I really need to talk to her.” I ask.
“We don’t let her wake up, we keep her medicated all the time.”
No compassion, just the facts.
“Why?”
“Cuz when she’s awake, she hurts herself and screams the same thing over and
over. It’s really annoying.”
Again, just the facts.
I look at Bonnie’s face, it’s covered with dark red scratches, her hands and
feet are secured to each of the four corners of the bed with padded restraints.
I hadn’t looked at her when I came into the room. I’d been preoccupied with
getting out one more post to one more chat site.
I’m a self-centered ass.
“What does she keeping saying?”
The nurse adjusts the drip of Bonnie’s morphine IV. The little drops begin
to fall faster.
“She just keeps repeating, ‘I need three more wishes’.”
Melita McHarlin
IMelitaam lives in Las Vegas, enjoying the 24 hour atmosphere. It's a Disneyland for adults, who could ask for more. Writing,
reading, movies and select video games are her time wasters. Education? Yeah, She’s got enough for now. That's not to say that
she’s done learning. Life is good, and will no doubt get better.
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