Confusion minus Con plus Genie Jenny minus fusion

"So," I say, pausing for a moment to get my head around things, "A you one of those stereotypical genies who only give you three wishes, or are you one of those really cool genies (hint hint) that give unlimited wishes (hint hint)."
Jenny, busy filing her nails with that vapourous tail that all genies seem to have nowadays, doesn't even bother glancing up, but answers, "Sorry, just the three."
"Well," I ponder, "Did that second wish actually count, because I didn't actually say 'I wish' and yet you brought me the chalice?"
"Nice try," Jenny says, unimpressed, "But according to the case of Genie vs. Aladdin filed soon after the Disney movie was released, wishes without the words 'I wish' are still covered by the magical-wish-granting-characters indemnity clause, subsection 3 paragraph 2. It is still a legitimate wish, and I only have to give you one more."
"Osna a ligean" sighs Melvin, slightly annoyed at this turn of events.
"So, would it help if I did the whole 'Set you free' wish?" I plead.
At this, Jenny looks across at me angrily, her eyes blazing with a magical fire.
"What are you saying?" she hisses, "You want me fired? No way! I have a cushy job, sitting around, doing whatever I want, I only have to answer dumb wishes every thousand years or so. You wish me free, and all that ends! I might get mad, and you don't want to see me mad!!!"
"G" I gulp, so frightened that I can't even pronounce the word properly. What happened to that nice genie who giggled so friendly-ly just before?
Jenny takes a moment to regain her composure, and settles back down to her nails (six inch ones, with flat-heads for easier driving in).
"Thats my performance voice," she answers to my thoughts, before continuing without glancing up, "Tell you what, I'll let you take your time over this third wish. I'll even agree to not answer it unless you say 'Genie Jenny, I wish...' on the front so you can't make any mistakes. You don't even need to take the lamp with you; I have extremely good hearing. Just promise me that you won't wish me free, and I'll leave you alone. Agreed?"
"Agreed," I agree.
"Socraithe" says Melvin.
"Good," says Jenny, and with a puff of pink strawberry-flavoured smoke, she is gone.
Melvin and I look across at each other, and then down at the ACME Chalice of Power in our hands.
"Now what?" I ask Melvin.
He replies.
In Gaelic.
I wish I hadn't asked.

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