Djinn Martini

"Careful with the ethanol," Said a fume of whisper hush. As a thundered bolt and fire ball, Engorged the moment with a rush. The itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny, yellow polka-dot martini, Lit my bokeh mind and eyelids tender soft. Astigmatism, couldn't see the genie, Who puffed up in the rush and coughed. "Cover your mouth, you elemental," I sneered at the legless haunt, Dental germs of a three-use mental rental, Are hardly worth the want. The djinn floated before me, in my grace, On the toilet which now I sat. "What did I rub, some sort of vase, Or were you something shat?" You'd think this would be the very first, Of times this thing knew of insult. It then attempted to cast a curse, On an adult outgrown of the occult. "Oh, I almost forgot you were there," I said as it muttered its pathetic spells. His shape depends be I, of it, aware, So he hushed, seeing I care for else. And then it knew, I'd rather wander; It knew I'm on without a wish. I'd rather sit, than squat and squander, And beg to smoke blown from a dish. The questions, now, each neither know: Which of us, is free to go, And who from should the bottle blow? I say as above, so my bro.