Here's hoping that glass of liquid helium hits the spot.

I wish I had contact lenses which gave me Superman's vision powers.

Granted.But everyone else knows that you have them. A picture in the local newspapers of you accidentally walking past a children's playground leads to severe reactions.


I wish I could travel back in time and space to see what the dinosaurs really looked like.

Granted. Except that it's a single prune floating in a bowl of ambergris, served inside the cup of a woman's brassiere. Basically the same thing, right?

I wish I were six feet tall.

Granted, but you grow feathers all over your body and and can only quack for communication.

I wish I had a bowlful of orange sherbet.

Your wish is granted, but the bowl of orange sherbert is placed directly in to your stomach by means of surgery. The surgery is performed without anesthesia and the metal bowl causes you a great deal of pain until the moment of your death. It’s also worth mentioning that you didn’t get to actually taste any of your delicious orange sherbert.

I wish the post directly following this one would be completely void of text.

Congratulations, the bamboo post is void of text, however as it is shoved directly up your ar$e it causes you an immense amount of pain leaving hundreds - no, thousands of splinters along the way.

I wish I had never sold all of my old videogame collection.

Granted, they are stolen on your way to sell them, so you didn't even get the money.

I wish Troika Games didn't close down.

Instead they've been acquired by Bethesda, and now their games are being pulled off GOG. Gee, thanks a bunch. :p

I wish Nikola Tesla would've gotten the fame and recognition he deserved while he was still around to appreciate it.

Granted.
He became famous for his childhood poetry and as a result he never became the celebrated physicist we know him as. His influence was never known and now we have no GOG. Also his poetry was terrible.

I wish for a nice picture that I can hang on my wall and admire.

Granted.
The picture is so nice though, that it produces unrealistic expectations on your part of how everything and everyone should look. Gradually you are pulled into gazing into the picture, admiring its beauty, and after a while you can no longer bear the harsh reality that lives outside of that picture. Everything else you see fades into comparison, your loved ones, your world, your life, yourself. The nice picture becomes your life and your obsession, until you die, lonely and old. In your search for the paradise depicted in the nice picture, you have lost everything else. In your last moments a film of tears forms across your eyes, blurring the picture that has blurred your very existence.

I wish to have a large garden.

Granted but its so big you get lost in it and die.
I want the next poster to kiss me if shes a female and not kiss me if hes a male.

I kiss the female who would've posted here instead of me. So there.

Wish I wrote poetry "terrible" enough to be worth a few thousand dollars. Just sayin'.

(That's my wish, btw. Just so there's no confusion.)

Granted.
Your poetry has been deemed terrible enough by the rest of the world, and now you are worth a few thousand dollars. Given this price on your head, you are hunted down by bounty hunters and slave traders alike. In the end, you are captured by pirates who want millions of dollars for you. Your government refers to your normal price of a few thousand dollars and refuses to pay. You are then fed to the sharks.

I wish my feet would smell like roses.

Granted, everyone hates you because you're a freak whose feet smell like roses.

I wish the world was all one timezone.