It was nine in the morning, and Leon was well into the story mode of the latest Call of Duty. He had beaten all the Call of Dutys, or Calls of Duty, depending how you approached the pluralization. He didn’t know what this one was fully called—Call of Duty 19: Carnage of Vengeance or whatever. They were all pretty good. Leon was high, anyway.

“Leon.”

Leon had his headset on, so assumed another player was calling him out. It took him a few moments to remember that he was playing the single player version. It didn’t also occur to him that even if he had been online, his username was TorMans69, not Leon.

“Leon! Over here, young man!”

Leon finally put down the controller and headset and looked at his phone, but no call was active. Huh. How strong was this weed, anyway? He’d tried a new strain from…

“LEON! OVER HERE! AT ONCE!”

This time the voice was so loud, so clearly real, that Leon bolted directly off the couch into a standing position. It had come from towards the kitchen.

“Come on, Leon.” Almost paternal. “Leon, here. We must talk, my son.”

It was the guinea pig. The guinea pig’s name was Andre, for what reason Leon did not know. It had been a hand me down from his friend Carl, who’d asked Leon to take care of Andre for a week, and then skipped town. The cage sat atop milk crates in the living room. That had been a year ago. Leon didn’t really mind. He was a chill little dude. Granted, he’d never spoken before.

“Holy shit,” said Leon.

“Yes, I know, you must find this a bit disconcerting. Would you do me a favor before we begin?”

Leon was quite sure this was a dream, but it was better than the one where he hadn’t been going to school all semester and his Dad was going to find out. “Begin what?”

“We need to talk, but first, your pizza smells delicious. You neglected to feed me today, so might you provide me with a morsel of your pizza?”

In the kitchen, a stack of pizza boxes threatened to topple off the stovetop. The top one, from that evening, still had half a pie from Pizza Pizza, the chain so downscale that it didn’t have a real name, it just repeated the name of the product. Leon ducked in and tore off the end of one slice. He carefully placed the pizza into the cage. The rodent happily began nibbling on it.

“So, uh… what do you wanna talk to me about, little dude?”

“Pull up a chair, son, and you might want to get your own slice. Oh, I see you already have. Very well, let me tell you a tale.” Leon sat down. Maybe it was the weed, but the little dude seemed friendly enough.

“I, Leon, am a djinn. Do you know what that is?”

“Like the booze?”

“No, not gin. Djinn. You would know us as genies, though…”

“WHOA!” Leon said in delight. He began singing “Friend Like Me.”

“LEON stop! Not like that. My name is Zubayr al-Mukhif ibn al-Ifrit, The Illustrious, The All-Powerful, The Incandescent, Born of Cold Fire, Master of The Deserts of the East Beyond the Mountains… Leon? Leon, wake up.”

Leon shook himself awake.

The guinea pig continued, “I have existed for time immemorial, given form and name in the good time of the Creator, and my travels have been limitless. I have seen the mountains rise from the earth and be torn down by the wind, seen man arise, empires come and go. But all this time, Leon, I have been but a servant of others. For once, Leon, I was incorporeal, but in the day of the Ubaid, the priest Ur-Turuk summoned me and imprisoned me in a vase. Since then, I have from time to time moved from one vessel to another at the permission of a mortal. But I cannot return to the liminal realm of my kind between man and angel. For that, Leon, I need a man. A special man. A man unique among men. I believe it is you.”

“Okay man but I gotta be outta here by ten ’cause I gotta lunch shift at Wendy’s and my boss has been on my ass for being late.” Leon didn’t like working there, but one of the line cooks was his best supply of MDMA.

“Very well. Leon, I am trapped in this vessel, as I have been trapped in hundreds before. But were I to have the body of a man, YOUR BODY, I could perform the ancient incantations that would transfer me to the realm of beyond-touching. However, Leon, I cannot take human form without one willing to switch with me. And that means you, my son.”

“Whoa,” said Leon. “Why mine?”

“It is as the ancient texts of Uffah al-Zarr foretold; that such a power existed in a man whose hair was tangled like the branches of an olive tree!”

“You mean my dreads?” Leon thought for a moment. He wasn’t great at that. “Whoa.”

“Yes, I realize it is difficult to imagine…”

“No, man, I mean whoa, I just realized I didn’t pay my cell phone bill and I got no money until Thursday. Hey man, what’s your name again?”

The guinea pig put a little guinea pig hand over its face. “Zubayr al-Mukhif ibn al-Ifrit. Leon, focus. I need you to agree to exchange bodies with me. It will be a temporary state. Once my incantation is done and I return to the Land Between Two Veils, you’ll return to your body.”

Leon was a little less high than he was before, and this alarmed him. “I dunno Zubs, I like being me. Also how would I fit in there? You’re really small.”

“My name is not Zubs. It’s… look, Leon, I am a genie. I shall grant you a wish.”

Leon pondered this. “I dunno man. This is a lot to ask.”

“Ask away, Leon, for the boundaries of time and space, the rules of energy and matter, these limit me not.”

“Okay, man, look, this is big, but… can you cover my shift at Wendy’s?”

The guinea pig/genie appeared stunned. “Uh… yes. You don’t want… I guess I can do that. All right, Leon, I must cast the spell.”

The guinea pig stood on its hind legs and began to wave its arms. Its little face actually looked pretty serious.

“Bi-ithn al-Muḥayya al-Awwal, wa ḥaqq al-arwaḥ al-raqidah taḥta ḥikmat al-Jabal, uqsimu bi-asmai al-kamila, anah Zubayr al-Mukhif ibn al-Ifrit, Nūr al-Khaṭwah, Sayyid al-Zawayah al-Nasiyah anih aṣṭafaytu hadha al-insan Leon ibn Fresno, Qaṭin al-Arikah, Sharib al-Ashab, Weriṯ al-Jundub al-Fari! Li-yaḥmila ruhi fi jasadih, wa aḥmila ruḥahu fih ṣurati l-far Wendy’s!” Nothing happened. “Leon, you have to repeat that now.”

“Oh no way man, sorry, I didn’t catch all of that.”

“I, ahh. Fine. Just say a-meen.”

Leon did, and the world whirled around him. The lights became impossibly bright, his senses heightened. There was a rising noise, louder and louder, like a million angels singing, or it might just have been “See You Again” by Tyler the Creator. And then he was a guinea pig.

Leon looked around his cage. He tried to look at himself, but realized his head wasn’t very flexible. He could see whiskers in his field of vision. His front feet were very amusing. He looked up and saw his Leon body standing there, looking down at him.

“Whoa, I’m HUGE!”

“Indeed, from that vantage point it must seem that way,” said the Leon-genie. “Now, I must go find the materials I need for the incantation!”

“Okay dude, but first ya gotta cover that shift at Wendy’s, man. If you’re not there at ten, Carl gets all pissy. He’s my manager. Your manager. He sucks ass, man.”

“Yes, yes, Leon. I am obliged by the laws of heaven to do this, for it was a wish promised. I will retrieve my materials afterwards!” He charged out the door without even getting the uniform on.

Leon, meanwhile, just chilled out. He ate some more leftover pizza, drank water out of the water dispenser, had a good lick of salt, and then went to sleep.

***

Zubzilla should have been back around five, but by ten he still wasn’t back. Leon was just beginning to think the Zubber wasn’t a genie after all but just an asshole. But then Zubayr came crashing in the door, carrying several shopping bags.

“Leon! I have covered your shift! Also I have retrieved some but not all of the materials I need. Do you know where I might find frankincense and the shadow of a lie told to a snake?”

“Dollar Value’s not bad, Zubbo.”

“That is not my name, but… very well! I will go there tomorrow. I have had a busy day and now I shall sleep!”

“Hey man, don’t go spending all my money, I don’t even have enough for…”

“Worry not, Leon! I was so industrious at your job with Wendy that you were promoted!” And with that, Zubayr, in Leon’s body, was off to bed.

“Whoa,” said Leon, and then he ate more and went to sleep.

***

The next day Leon was awoken in his cage by the sound of someone playing acoustic guitar. It was him, or more precisely, Andre. Zubostomy? No, Leon was the guinea pig. Zubayr was in the human body. That was it. Crazy.

“Yo, Zubborino, man, can you toss some food in here?”

Zubayr smiled. “That is not my name, I am Zubayr, but I already have, my friend. While you were sleeping, which you seem to do more than I did in that form, I sallied forth and retrieved the finest rodent food. It is in your bowl. Feast!”

Leon tried it. He’d normally just thrown whatever at Andre. “Thanks man, this is good. Hey, uh, I didn’t know you could play guitar.”

“I am learning. It is much like the instruments played in centuries past. Ah, once I was beholden in servitude to the Al-Muallim Safwan. His oud was strung with sinews of gold, its body of pure onyx. When he played, the stars would stop in the heavens and the creatures of land and sky would pause to listen.”

“I knew a guy who was a roadie for Weezer.”

“I am enjoying this instrument, but, Leon, I will now go out and find the things I need to free myself from this mortal realm. Take heart!”

“Hey man, can you turn on Netflix? It’ll just play stuff nonstop.”

Zubayr al-Mukhif ibn al-Ifrit put on Netflix and left.

Once again, he was gone a long time. Leon was briefly a bit worried, but Netflix started playing Naked Gun movies, so he was having a good time until he fell asleep.

***

The next day, Zubayr admitted that he still hadn’t found a critical part needed for the spell, “a grain of sand from the desert that once knew it was an ocean.” He was somewhat apologetic.

“That’s all right,” Leon said. “As long as you keep covering me at Wendy’s, we’re okay.”

“Yes, I will do this. Your master, Carl ibn Jerry, has given me the job of handling drive-through duties during the dinner hour. This is a position of trust and power.”

“Whoa, okay, man, that’s a tough gig,” Leon counseled. “Ya gotta watch Julie, she’ll totally hand you the wrong drinks.”

Zubayr replied “Ah yes, but she is a lady of seraphic countenance.”

“Huh?”

Zubayr said, patiently, “Her visage is of the greatest pulchritude.”

“I don’t get it,” Leon said.

Zubayr thought of how to get the message across, and settled on “She’s hot.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess, man, but she’s stuck up.”

“This surprises me,” said Zubayr, “for she seemed quite pleasant to me when I invited her to spend time with me enjoying the banks of the San Joaquin. Indeed, I must do this immediately following my, or your, shift at Wendy’s. Do you have sufficient lettuce?”

“I guess man.”

“Farewell!” and Zubayr, in Leon’s body, swept out the door.

Leon looked around the apartment. The Zub-A-Dub was keeping it awfully clean. Smelled like, clean stuff, or something. Earlier in the day he’d wanted to ask the Zubstep to blow some weed smoke into the cage, but he’d forgotten. He didn’t really care all that much.

***

Zubayr still couldn’t find everything he needed; he told Leon he couldn’t find the ashes of `a note that bore a broken promise,’ and apologized for the continued delays.

“Man, that sucks. You should try Thrifty Pete’s.”

“Perhaps I will,” Zubayr said. “I must inform you that I have invited Julie to spend time here watching your Netflix, and she also wishes to chill. Truly, hers is the beauty of pearls struck at midnight by a summer moon. Though she hands me Diet Cokes, my thirst to hear her silken voice cannot be quenched.”

“Bro,” Leon said, “that’s awesome, you’re gonna score!”

Just as he said that, the living room was filled with the blackest smoke, which receded as fast as it had materialized towards a huge figure standing in the doorway. A man had appeared, so tall he barely cleared the ceiling, his skin made of black rock polished to mirrors. He wore armor made of chains. Fire surrounded him, danced across him, and yet burned nothing.

“Humqa!” it roared, but Leon mostly felt the roar inside him. “Especially you, Zubayr al-Mukhif! This Tahwir al-dat violates the laws of our universe!”

“Aw man, we’re busted,” Leon said. Zubayr stared at the floor.

The enormous figure boomed, “This is no mere bust! I am Malik, Sentry of the Sevenfold Depths, Jailer of the Unrepentant, The Wielder of Unburning Flames, Lord of the Nineteen Hosts of the Infernal Guard, and Bearer of the Chain of Justice! You, Leon, test the patience of the angels of the Lord!”

“Man, I’m just eatin’ lettuce here.”

Zubayr said, “Lord, I have cast the incantation as was done in the days before memory. As you can see…”

“FOOL!” Malik roared. “You have been in this body for almost five days! That is the time allotted, as was written in the Blinded Yellow Codex of the Vanishing Bones! Zubayr, if you do not resolve this situation, by midnight tonight, the both of you shall be cast into the blazing flame!”

Malik vanished as fast as he had appeared.

“Dude that sounds like it would suck,” Leon said.

“It would… suck,” Zubayr said, rubbing his chin. Leon noticed Zubayr had actually been shaving. His hair looked neat. “I will cancel my chilling with Julie and redouble my efforts to find the necessary ingredients to send myself to the Veiled Realm. Then you may reinhabit your body.” Zubayr sat on the arm of the couch with a sigh. “Since before the Pyramids rose, I have sought to return to the Land of the Unseen. It is where I belong.”

Leon said, “Can you play guitar there? You’re gettin’ pretty good man, you were sizzling when you did Metallica. You can take mine, I don’t use it.”

“Alas, Leon, material things are not of concern in the Place of Shadows. There the djinn exist in a matter incorporeal, beyond the conception of your kind. It is my place, my plane of existence. And I must apologize and thank you for your infinite patience. You have been trapped in the body of this cavy for longer than either of us anticipated, and you deserve to resume your life in your normal form. I have risked your very soul for my own purpose.”

The two were quiet for a moment. Then Leon said, “Hey, Zubbarino, like, how many magic spells do you know?”

“I know incantations, conjurations, and thaumaturgies of every description.”

“Well, Zubboleon,” said Leon, “I gotta tell ya, man, I kind of like it here. This cage is, like, mega chill. I used to smoke so much chronic, but I don’t even miss it now. Being a guinea pig is like being high—I get to sleep all day, I always feel kinda fuzzy, and I don’t have pants on. I got my Netflix over there, I really love lettuce now, it’s warm in the cage. This is a sweet gig. And, man, you’re killin’ it at Wendy’s, you’re shredding on guitar, and Julie likes you.”

“Yes, yes she does,” said Zubayr. “I admit, Leon, that my time here has been perhaps the most congenial I have spent since inhabiting the mortal coil. I enjoy playing your lyre, and watching the programs about this heroic Picard, and… and my sweet Julie, my golden desert moon. Our souls intertwined when we went bowling.”

Leon said “So, like, this is a pretty sweet deal. You’re better at being me than me. I never used to smell like soap. And I like being this. So, do you have some crazy magic that could keep us this way and that asshole with all the fire and whatnot can’t do whatever he was gonna do?”

“The Invocation of Frozen Souls would do this,” Zubayr said, “but while I have many of the materials needed, to find the last necessary reagent in this place, this Fresno, before the Shadow Hour, would surely be impossible. We would need… the memory of a false covenant, lined in salt.”

“Dude,” said Leon, “I totally know where to find that.”

***

Zubayr and Leon, peeking from Leon’s old backpack, got to Wendy’s at a quarter to midnight. It was closed but what Leon was looking for was out back, and that’s where they went.

“There are so many salty false covenants in the dumpster.” Leon explained. “Just you wait.”

Zubayr approached the dumpster and went to open it. It was chained shut. “Leon, this container of refuse is chained, and I do not have the keys.”

“What? Dude! You said you were assistant manager now!”

“No,” Zubayr said, now panicking, “I said I soon would be, for Carl ibn Jerry promised me the job once Jerome went back to Stanford in September!”

“Just reach in as far as you can and grab old food bags!”

“I cannot reach! Woe are we both!”

With a sudden burst of smoke, flames, and the screams of the damned, a familiar figure, taller even than before, his skin of pure obsidian, materialized in the alleyway. Zubayr held his hands up and screamed in terror.

“Ahl ah-Jahim!” Malik roared, as loud as a volcano. “I am Malik, Angel of the Most High, Keymaster of the Nether, Excruciator of the Unrighteous, The Unsmiling One! I am here to see to it your punishment is meted! Abandon hope!”

“We still have seven minutes!” Zubayr cried out, checking Leon’s Mickey Mouse watch.

“I enjoy watching your despair! I had nothing else to do!”

Leon climbed out of the backpack onto his, or Zubayr’s, shoulder. “Dude, I got this. Get the other stuff out and mix it up or whatever!” He scampered down off Zubayr’s quaking borrowed form and skittered beneath the dumpster.

“Ha!” shouted Malik. “Ignorant, idle reprobate! Do you think a mere dumpster can hide you from the wrath of the Almighty?”

Leon ignored the shrieking in his guinea pig head and found the drain holes in the dumpster. Climbing up, he found himself in a heap of vile fast food trash. Discarded wrappers, soda cups and filthy used napkins attracted flies. He needed one thing, though. Only one would do. He rooted around.

“Five minutes and you burn!” roared Malik, while Zubayr desperately mixed oils, wolfsbane, and verdigris in a silk pouch.

Leon’s nose worked a lot better than his old one, and he could smell what he needed. The paper food bag was just the thing. He began pulling it towards the drain hole.

“Four minutes! The end of your bodies is nigh but your souls face eternity burning in the Saqar!”

Just as Leon was about to get the paper bag out, it stopped moving and began tugging the other way. Confused, Leon peeked around it. It was being pulled back by a huge rat. The rat was twice Leon’s size, at least. He tried his best, but the rat was dragging the bag, and him, back into the dumpster. He pulled and pulled but had nowhere near the strength.

“Three minutes until you feel the ceaseless flames!”

“LEON!” cried out Zubayr. “The mixture is ready but for one thing!”

Leon was losing his fight with the rat. He had to do something, and his mind cleared, and thought logically, unfiltered by narcotics. He knew what to do. He let go of the bag with his teeth, crawled around it to the rat, and yelled “Dude, that’s my bag!”

The rat, having never heard a fellow rodent shout with the voice of a human being, let go and fled in terror.

Leon grabbed the bag, pulled it out of the dumpster, and scampered to Zubayr.

“What is this?” Zubayr asked “A medium takeout bag? This helps me not!”

“Two minutes!” Malik shouted, his chiseled face impassive. He began to unwind mighty chains from his arms.

“Dude, this is what you need,” Leon explained. “What was it again?”

“The memory of a false covenant lined in salt!”

“Yeah! That’s it! Well, exactly, man! EVERY bag that had fries in it is a memory of a false covenant lined in salt! They all have salt, man, everything here is salty. And you just know someone promised to share their fries and didn’t!”

Zubayr stared at the guinea pig. “Leon,” he said, “you have rescued us from damnation.”

“No worries, Zubosity.”

“That’s not my name,” Zubayr said.

“ONE MINUTE!” Malik crowed, his voice betraying joy. The flames that surrounded him grew, bursting outwards in a mighty conflagration without heat, their cold light blinding.

Zubayr crumpled up the bag, stuck it in the silk pouch, and circled his hand over it, and spoke, quietly, an incantation being of ancient Egyptian, Akkadian, and tongues from before history and memory. The pouch burst into flames and vanished without ash or smoke.

“NO!” cried Malik. “YOU HAVE RUINED MY DAY!” He vanished.

Zubayr placed Leon carefully in the backpack, and they longboarded home.

“I shall have Julie over tomorrow,” Zubayr said as they coasted along. “She wishes to try taquitos.”

“That’s wicked, Zubman,” Leon said. “Can you pick me up some more kale?”

————

Rick Jones is an author of short fiction across all genres, and his debut novel, Phoenix, will be out in 2026. He lives in Burlington, Ontario, with his kid and a really demanding cat.