Conundrum

He slumped in his obsidian chair, idly tracing the outlines of the trapped souls within. The throne was too large for him right now; he usually wished to be big before he held court.

“What if,” he began carefully, “I wished that I would be defeated?”

“Your wish is my command, master,” purred the djinn. It was a bony catlike creature at present, black-skinned and hairless.

“I’m tired of winning.”

“You have but to say the words, my master.”

“But that would be boring. I don’t want to know what happens.” The child considered. “And I don’t want to lose.”