Granted. The fruitcake tastes terrible, so you plan on using it as a door stop. Unfortunately, the fruit cake happens to be too soft, so you have to eat it.

I wish Billy Mays could come back to life so he could advertise GOG.com

Granted. The Judgement Day comes and all the dead come back to life. They can advertise anything they want, although it might be a tad late for that.

I wish for... Complete. Global. Saturation.

Granted, the surface of the world is saturated by milk and butter. Global warming has been replaced by a plot from Sunny with a side of Meatballs. This strange event is talked to death on CNN and Foxnews, while people try to make houses out of the mess and continue with their daily lives, mostly churning to help get rid of all this butter. A plus is there will be many pancakes and baked goods as long as you have flour and water.

And the global ice caps are intact.

I wish for peace and quiet.

Granted:
Peace: Every human being on earth but you mysteriously vanishes.

Quiet: At the same time, you go completely deaf. You never hear the mountain lion as it approaches....
Hey, animals hunting to eat doesn't violate the "peace" you wished for.

I wish this thread would go on forever!

Granted. As new technologies come, GOG, the forum and this thread are always brought forth.
But not you. You had a (not so) little accident with tuk tuks in Thailand during your vacation and got hit hard in the head. You get dizzy looking at screens or even trying to read, so no more thread, GOG, video games or books for you. You can't even read the preparation notes of food you buy.

I wish I would get better from my cold before the ice cream would be gone, here at home.

Granted.

Your family, as considerate as they are, saved the last serving of ice cream for you until you got better. However, the source of your cold turned out to be some new strain that mutates every 30 seconds, and lasted 3 years before your body's immune system could finally kill it off. By the time you got better, that last serving of ice cream was still waiting for you in the freezer but it had now expired and tasted awful. You ate it anyways.

I wish I could stay up all night and not be tired the next day.

You stay up all night, you are NOT tired the next day, but the two days After said next day, you are so tired, you sleep 15 hours per day and spend them in bed.

I wish for the rest Lucasarts games to come here SOON! Like, TODAY!

Your "today" was four days ago. Too bad you missed it.

I wish I was immune to heat and cold.

Since you became immune to heat and cold, temperatures are consistently average, but humidity has climbed up to 90% and won't drop.


I wish the DRM-free Big Fall Sale holds a nice adrenaline-rush surprise for us.

Granted, but you also become immune to all sensation of touch. You cannot even feel your own skin or muscles, and before long you begin getting countless scrapes and bruises due to your dramatically diminished proprioceptivity. As you interact with friends, family, even lovers, all you can do is remember how you took the warmth of a hug, (et. al.,) for granted.
(oof! I can think of very few worse fates than that... I actually hesitated to pull the trigger on this one.
...and then I realized my hesitation probably means I've been ninja'd. Oh well, now I have to do it.)

and, Granted, but it turns out to be a new, clever conceit for gambling on a 1-in-100 chance for TWIII...which you quickly discover results in Jack Keane 2 "gifts" the other 99% of the time.
And all game sales are suspended until someone wins the 1 TWIII pre-order.

I wish I could have the aliens that abducted me, (who kinda look like Jamie Farr) offer, as a way of saying "thank you," (for being "a darn good sport" while they sucked out my internal organs and took some polaroids,) to transport me back to any time in history that I would care to go!

Oh, I had been hoping someone else might be able to pick this one up...
(ah well)

Granted, but the problem is, your table manners...are a crying shame; you find that you're playing with your food, but this ain't some kind of game. You realize, suddenly, that if you starve to death, you'll just have yourself to blame. And yet, for reasons unfathomable to you, you persist; you do not Eat It. Instead you hear a guitar solo.

I wish I could have a newwww Duck. Preferably a Mallard, I think...One that won't make a mess of my house, or build a nest in the bathroomm sink. I would want the kind of new duck, that (I know) won't steal a beer, neither would he stick his bill in my mail. One that knowws the duck stops here!

Granted. You get the newest duck there is, the <span class="bold">Actual Advice Mallard</span>. His sage wisdom cleans up your act, and you become so driven and successful that you never have time anymore for video games. As a result, your GOG library languishes, collecting virtual dust forever.


I wish that calories consumed on Thanksgiving didn't count toward my bottom line. By which I really mean my waistline.

Granted.
You no longer gain any nourishment at all from food consumed on Thanksgiving; however, by a strange twist, you are now trapped in Thanksgiving day indefinitely (à la Bill Murray in Groundhog Day): you repeat the day over and over again, but in your own personal chronology, time still passes -- i.e., you still age. Not being able to draw any sustenance from your food is now a much more immediate concern for you than growing old, though....

EDIT: Whoops, forgot to wish. Ummm...
I wish I were an Oscar Mayer wiener. (That is what I'd truly like to be.)

Wish granted. I am now in love with you and eat you so that we can be together forever (or until I pass you the next day).


I wish I had a small stone sized quantum computer that runs on zero point energy and that interfaces with my thoughts, allowing me to create my own reality in my mind.