Guest Column: Ask a Sphinx

It's the week assigned for October's Ask a Genie feature. Our genie has always been so timely, I didn't worry when I got a note, saying he'd "encountered some difficulty abroad," and requesting I forward his letters. Then another message came, to say he was "mired in a situation," but, not to worry, I'd have a column in hand before print time. Nothing arrived until yesterday, when a wax-sealed envelope appeared on my desk (in a locked office, I'll add), penned in what I hope is red wine. I'm not sure what it means, or who to "thank" for it, but I'm scared not to publish it, so here it is.

Ask a Sphinx

Dear Cunning Sphinx, Revered and Feared,
"Martha," my best friend since childhood, used to be normal and down to earth. We were always on the same wavelength, until she inherited her grandfather's fortune. We used to share our money troubles, commiserate over heartbreaks, swap grocery coupons. Now she wants to talk about the canal boats in Bruges, and "wait till you've tried the oysters at Jake's," and "why don't we go to Naples for the weekend?" She offers to pay, but I could never.

Is our friendship doomed? Should I warn her she's becoming a snob?
Signed, Abandoned Bestie

Dear Pitiable Human,
Eye the shade of spring's new vine,
What e'er thou have, it should be mine.
If I should gain all I desire,
I yet have none, while your stack's higher.
What am I?

Speak your answer, mortal, and await my judgement.

Dear Majestic Sphinx, Divine Monster, Treacherous Beauty,
After high school, I lined up a job in a new city. My dad tried to offer some parting advice, which turned out to be true in retrospect, but I was headstrong, and didn't want to hear it. I said some things that can't be taken back and then I left without another word. After that, I figured he was glad to be rid of me. Plus, I was ashamed of what I'd said, so I never checked in with him after the move. Pretty soon, the not talking became its own "thing." I figured we'd start speaking again at some point, but we never did. Since then, I moved again, and I'm not even sure my dad knows what state I live in.

If I got the chance, I'd apologize, but it looks like the chance might never come. Is there something I can do, or should I accept that I screwed up, and move on with my life?
Signed, Wayward Son

Dear Amusing Mote of Briefly-Animate Dust,
I hum a tone, though I'm no singer,
I have a ring, but nary a finger.
I throw my voice, though I have no lips,
I'm everywhere at your fingertips.

Is that clear enough? I shall hold you to account.

Dear Deathless Sphinx, Slandered by Oedipus, Unbowed by Man,
I've always spent my evenings playing video games. My wife knew this before we were married, and it was never a problem. She would read while I gamed, and everyone was happy. Recently, though, she's gotten distant, and started going out after dinner sometimes. I've tried to communicate that it makes me jealous when she leaves the house without me, since I don't know who she's with. She says she's by herself at the bookstore, but how do I know that? I told her, if she's bored of reading, I'll put my game in two-player mode.

I thought that would end the problem, but she went out again last week, so I put my foot down and said she has to stay home. Now she's giving me the silent treatment, which I think is bad for a marriage. Can you help her see she's hurting our relationship?
Signed, No Games, Please.

Dear Soft and Squishy Meat Balloon,
What has the wings of an eagle,
a lion's knife-sharp claws,
the face of an almighty goddess,
and a letter marked with your home address?

Or an easier one:

Who prostrates himself to a screen,
heeds neither love nor vow,
and would not hear a beast in the shadows,
had it feet of stone?

P.S. My paws are not of stone, but I'll make sure you hear me anyway.
Otherwise, what's the fun?