The amazing and slightly low-budget magic bottle of Marouff Flifloufl
For ancient centuries, maybe even millenia, travellers from across the globe have visited Cairo's Grand Old Bazaar. Even the great explorer Herodotus visited the land of alchemy and magic, the Gods' gift from the Nile, pausing for a tall tale and a dose of bilharzia as he navigated the ancient world in search of wisdom.
In an old, old nook, of an old, old shop, in an old, old twisted alleyway, in the darkest and most ancient cranny of this bazaar, my distant relative, Great Great (times many) Uncle Flifloufl, polished the blown-glass bottles he'd made for the delicately-scented rose of attar merchants, and Turkish Delight sellers, who travelled in winding caravans across the star-lit sands of the Sahara.
As with all things, in time, Uncle Flifloufl sadly aged and turned to dust, but he left this unassuming bottle, much prized and hidden in a casket, to pass from father to son as a reminder of better days. There were no instructions.
Sadly, those hard times came for the Flifloufl family and the bottle was sold to a passing student of Egyptology from Birmingham University, who thought it pretty and when she got home, she kept it on her windowsill. She used the casket as an emergency belated present for her best friend who's birthday she'd forgotten. Students aren't renowned for their cleaning abilities and the bottle soon fell under a thick layer of dirt and dust.
However, Mothers are wonderful, and stonkingly supportive, and known for liking things to be clean and tidy. The inevitable happened and on a visit one day, Mother decided to have a good polish. She rubbed the bottle firmly with an anti bacterial wipe, and well, you can guess what happened.
Suffice it to say that the family, especially the mother, are living in great style with everything they could possible need, including the latest very expensive Pfaff sewing machine. Genii Us.