He went home that night ashamed and $25 poorer. His taste for fans was spoiled from that day forward. He put the problematic fan in his attic and tried not to think of it ever again. His plan was thwarted today, when he dug up the fan. All the memories flooded back to him, and he smacked the fan onto the floor. It fell on his foot, which immediately began throbbing. Charles’ short patience for fans disappeared, and he kicked the fan several times with his good foot, which was soon aching and throbbing as much as his injured one. As he kicked the helpless fan, he shouted, “I hope I never see another fan as long as I live!” He swung his foot once again to kick the fan, but the fan was no longer there. Charles lost his balance and fell backwards onto the floor. “Whu-? What happened?” he stammered.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” said a voice from an invisible source, “you wished away the fans.”

Charles sat up. “Who said that?” he called out. By his feet there appeared a small oscillating fan, not unlike the one he was just kicking. This fan, however, had arms, legs, and, most amazingly of all, a face. It was sneering at him. Charles stared aghast at the fan for a moment staring at the fan. After a moment, he was finally able to say, “Who- ? What are you?”

The fan’s voice was filled with malice when it replied. “Never you mind,” it said, “just be warned that the consequences of your wish are more than you are able to handle.”

Charles sniggered. “Right,” he said. “Oh, boo-hoo. My fan has disappeared. Whatever shall I do? Shut up, you stupid fan.”

“Why I oughtta…” replied the fan but was interrupted before he could say what he ought to do.

“Anyway, my wish hardly came true, as I’m sitting here staring at a fan,” said Charles. “And a pretty dumb one at that,” he added.

The fan shook its fist at Charles and said, “Step out of this attic. I dare you.”

“What? Are you going to fight me? Ooh, I’m scared. The fan’s going to beat me up. Somebody save me.”

“Just do it, sucker,” the fan said and disappeared.

Charles decided the humor the apparition and began to descend the attic staircase. “Oh no,” he called, “I’m leaving the attic. What shall become of me?” When he was completely out of his attic and in the second floor of his house, he found no temperature change. The attic was usually much hotter than the rest of the house, but as it was, both places were really hot. Charles wiped his sweaty brow and said, “Whew, it sure is hot.”

The reply came from nowhere, but Charles recognized the shrillness of the voice. It was the fan’s. “It sure is. Central air conditioning doesn’t work without a fan. But since there’s now no fans, you’re a/c is useless,” he said, and laughed a deliberately mocking laugh. Charles fumed.

“So what?” he said. “My ancestors lived without central a/c. I can too. I’m a man. I can handle it.”

The fan laughed some more. “You sure about that?”

“I don’t have to take this,” said Charles. “I’m outta here!” The fan was still laughing as Charles stomped down the stairs, grabbed his car keys, threw open the door, exited, and slammed the door shut behind him. He paused just outside and sighed in relief when he could no longer hear the fan’s cruel laughter. He got in his Ford Tempo, started it up, and was just about to switch the air conditioning on when he remembered the fan, and decided against it. He threw the car into gear, pulled into traffic, and was driving only a short while before smoke began to billow from under the hood. He pulled the car to the side of the road and said, “What the flood…?”

The fan appeared on the dashboard, laughing. “Guess what was in your engine, jerk. A fan. Too bad it’s not there anymore. Your car might still be running if it was. Theirs, too.” The fan pointed out the window. It was then that Charles noticed that there were several other cars pulled over and smoking. The fan laughed some more. “You didn’t think your wish affected only you, did you? They’re just as fanless as you are.”

Charles pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. “So?” He said. “I can walk. It’s healthier, anyway. My ancestors walked, and so can I.” He swatted at the fan once but missed. Then he exited the car and started walking. He didn’t have any real agenda. Just to walk. After a short time, his stomach growled. He decided to stop at the nearby Hamburger Hutt. Two blocks later, he entered the building to the grimmest sight he’d ever seen. His jaw dropped when he walked into the fast food restaurant to find it littered with dead bodies. “What?” was all he could say, and it took him a while to force that out.

The fan appeared on Charles’ shoulder. “Well, lookee here. Seems the fan that sucked up all the smoke from the broiler disappeared, the building filled with that smoke, and all the people suffocated and died.”

“You’re sick,” said Charles.

“Me? I’m not the one who wished away the fans.”

“SICK!” shouted Charles, and he turned and ran.

“Where are you going, friend? Not home, I hope!” called the fan.

“Leave me alone!” Home? Why shouldn’t he go home? What had that devil done now? Charles made home his destination, and ran frantically through the streets. So frantically, in fact, that he didn’t notice how many houses and apartments and office buildings had caught on fire. Not until he got home some twenty minutes later, that is, when he discovered that his own house was in flames. Charles was drenched in sweat and exhausted. His jaw dropped yet again when he saw the inferno that was once his home. He sat on the sidewalk in front as he watched it burn. “Why?” he said. “Why?” He laid back on the concrete and just let himself cry. He curled up in a ball and hid his face in his arm. Because he did this, he didn’t see the fan appear in front of him.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” the fan said. “You left your computer on, didn’t you? Do you know the reason computers have fans in them?”

“You’re a monster,” said Charles.

“That’s right, they were known to overheat and catch fire. The fans kept that from happening. Maybe somebody should have told all those people that.” He motioned to the other houses that were burning down. With that the fan began to cackle, more wildly and evilly than before.

Charles sat up and looked around at the other houses. In the midst of the fire and confusion and laughing of the fan, Charles said to the fan, “Alright, I get it. I see that life is much better with fans. I take back my wish.”

The fan stopped laughing. “What do I look like, a genie? I can’t take back wishes. You’re just going to have to learn to live without fans. You never should have made that wish if you weren’t willing to deal with the consequences.”

“What?” said Charles. The fan resumed its laughter. “No. NOOOOOOOO!!!” Charles fell onto the ground. His joints went limp. It didn’t matter, because his appendages didn’t seem to want to work anyway. There he lay, in his lawn, among the burning city, the crying and screaming, and the laughing of that fan. That stupid, evil, nasty fan. For an hour, he lay there, until he finally had a plan, a way to end it all, forever. He got up and started walking.

“Where’re you going?” called the fan. “Nowhere there are fans, I hope!” His voice was still mocking, still evil.

“The end,” was all Charles said, and he walked. He walked down the street and around the corner, past the Reynolds’ place. He knew the Reynolds. Their house was on fire, but they were nowhere to be found. He walked past the Stop ‘N’ Buy, Open 24 hours, now closed. He continued past churches and schools and hospitals and bus stations. He walked until he came at last to the gun shop. It was closed, but Charles didn’t care. He mustered all the strength he had and kicked the door in. He was surprised how easily it gave. It probably had something to do with the sudden nonexistence of fans. Everything else did. He looked over the contents of the display case and pulled out a handgun that looked kinda cool. He got some ammo that would fit it. Once he loaded it, he called out, “Guns don’t use fans, do they?!”

The fan appeared and said, “Guns, huh? No, they don’t. What? Are you going to end it all? Can’t live with your decision? Can’t face the responsibility that, only hours ago, you were all about? Fine, do it. You’ll just leave behind your legacy. You’ll just be remembered as the person who killed the fans.”

Charles stared in silence at the fan for a moment, the gun dangling at his side. “Well, what’re you waiting for, buddy? Do it,” challenged the fan. “What do I care? It’s your life, not mine.”

Charles looked nothing like the man he was earlier in the day. Dark circles had formed under his eyes; his hair was unkempt, as were his clothes. He had accumulated a layer of dirt over all his body. He stood quivering, as though he were about to fall. He had truly taken on the appearance of a madman. Without saying a word, he raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

One bullet was all it took. The fan fell to the ground, dead. The bullet passed through its body and left a hole that shot out sparks. The fan let out a weird squeak as it fell. Charles stood over it. Now he began to laugh. A hearty chortle grew inside him and erupted into full fledged cackling. The fan was dead, but Charles shot it twice more. He stopped laughing. He didn’t say anything, but simply walked outside. Cars were running again. None of the buildings that were on fire were still in flames. Charles slowly shuffled down the streets. He may have been heading home, he really hadn’t decided. He was basically walking blindly when a police car pulled up beside him.

“Going somewhere, buddy?” said the police officer inside after rolling down the window.

“Huh?” said Charles.

“You got a license for that gun?”

“Gun?” Charles looked down and saw that he was still carrying it. “Gun?” he repeated. “No, you can have it.” He handed it to the police officer, who cautiously took it.

“You okay, buddy? You need a ride somewhere?”

“Um, sure.” Charles shook his delirium away. “Yeah, can you take me home?”

“Hop in the back, buddy,” said the officer. Charles got in. He gave the officer his address. The officer said, “Right,” as he put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “Hotter than a fire on the equator today,” the officer said. “Let’s get some a/c going.” He switched on the air conditioner and Charles felt the fan come alive. He never before enjoyed the feeling of recirculated air so much. He probably never would.

Charles looked out the window and whispered, “I beat you. I won.”