We were back in my bedroom. Shamus was sitting on the top bunk with his legs dangling over the side. He tapped at the heel of his shoe with his hammer. He seemed to be always mending it.

"Was it a good ride you had?" he asked.

"That was a stupid wish" said Reginald, "Why didn't you give us a fall tank of gas?"

"You never asked me for gas!" said Shamus "You were lucky to get as much gas as you got!"

"Where's my jersey?" I said, frantically sorting through some clothes.

"So the motorbike was not to your liking?" asked Shamus, "Is that what I'm to understand?"

"It was OK," said Reginald, "You just forgot a few things."

"Like what?"

"Like how come it had a number plate? Where did it come from?"

"The shop in town" said Shamus, "Its always easier to get a local product than to make up a whole new bike!"

"So you gave me a stolen bike?" said Reginald.

"Where's my jacket?" I asked, peering under the bed.

"You never said anything about having a motorbike of your own, now did you!" said Shamus, "So how was I to know what you were thinking?"

"You should have known!" said Reginald.

And then he did something I'm sure he shouldn't have done. He pulled Shamus down from the bed and hit him.

Shamus rolled across the floor and thumped into the wall. I expected him to be angry, but he brushed himself down and smiled.

"One more wish you have?" he said, "And what would you be wanting this time?"

"Yeah!" said Reginald, "One more wish, and this time get it right!"

"That I will, to be sure," said Shamus, "Ask away!'

"OK' said Reginald, "I want to be famous, right? But no tricks!"