If it had not been clear enough, protest really was useless; Rozalin was only wasting her breath. Genie was persistent and would not take no as an answer. He paused only momentarily at the demon’s outburst, then eagerly shoved a clipboard toward her as well as a pen. Even if he could not change her outfit into more appropriate for the sport he would still have her play. Maybe later in the game she would change her mind and allow him to dress her in something fabulous. He could only hope.

“Not yet but if you just sign here, here, aaaand here for me we can have you on your way in no time. You even get your own golf cart. What better way to make your grand entrance on the green than in your very own cart?” In a cloud of blue smoke a pumpkin coach appeared, similar to that in the story of Cinderella. He stared at in surprise then scratched his head. “Someone’s gotta have a word with the props department. These tires aren’t ripe.”