"Just one picture, Mr. Woodson!"
Bobby ignored the paparazzi and pulled his ratty blue bathrobe closed. His mismatched slippers flapped on the sidewalk. Flashbulbs went off with a machine-gun chatter. Bobby opened his mailbox and dumped the fan letters onto the pile of overflow. He retrieved his Lego collector's catalog and turned back to the house.
"Mr. Woodson! Please!" The cries were growing frantic as they began to realize he wouldn't speak today. Bobby slammed the door behind him.
The genie was hovering over the kitchen table with a smug expression. Bobby narrowed his eyes. "Don't even start," he warned.
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