D:

Granted. But you can only fly UP, and in an uncontrolable way. You will leave the atmosphere soon.

I wish for a wish.

Granted. You're thrown into a dark, dirty pit so you get the wish to get out.
Unfortunately you only have the wish but no one to grant it.


I wish I'd always know where to get things for the cheapest price.

Granted. But all of these cheap things are completely broken, so every shop selling them is constantly destroyed by angry mobs. You always know where a new place of cheapest things appear but you never get there in time.

I wish I was a captain of a real pirate ship.

Granted. Mutiny happens as soon as you take position and you are slain.

I wish I could breathe underwater.

Granted. But you grow scales too, and you smell permanently like fish.

I wish for all real wars to stop, at least during the entire winter.

Granted. All wars stop for the winter... causing several major countries' economies to crash. The turmoil leads to shortages, which lead to rioting, which lead to overthrown governments, which by the time spring comes, lead directly to World War III. Way to go, sir; you've destroyed civilization with nothing more than a single simple wish.

I wish I hadn't thought up that rather depressing scenario.

Granted. At exactly this moment someone gets sent back to the past to kill you before you can have this thought.


I wish I hadn't missed the opportunity I had yesterday.

Granted, the opportunity you missed never happened and you have no memory of it ever occurring. Therefore, there was no opportunity to miss.

I wish I knew how to cook a good pizza.

You can cook good pizza. Not better, not great, not awesome, not 'better than laying with a woman with of the night', but a merely acceptable and palatable pizza. Efforts to improve are fruitless.

I wish to invent some kind of organic recharge station.

Granted. You discover that plants can not only create oxygen, but generate power as well, under some conditions. You work years and finally invent a machine which can harvest that power from plants. It is a major success, as from now on people will grow forests and other plants instead of more factories or Nuclear Power Plants.

But... Varrick stumbles upon your project and while you sleep, he makes some changes in your plans, blueprints and calculations of these new machines. You do not know that, make a contract with the government to replace most of the gas stations with your new organic ones. But first, you must show a working prototype.

Engineers, mechanics build a small recharge station, powered by nothing else but the plants. Just like your blueprints and instructions say. You turn on the machine but something goes wrong... More and more power is generated, machine is out of control. All of a suden, a huge beam of raw electrical energy shoots from the machine, tearing down the walls in it's way. Varrick is standing somewhere behind the crowd, thinking "It's a VICTORY!" and dissapears. You, however, are seen as insane person, who created a new SUPER WEAPON!

During next few days, you are locked in the insane asylum. The new super weapon is taken over by military. And Varrick presents your original plans of organic recharge station, which work perfectly safe. He makes billions of dollars.

I wish I had a magical table that would give food when asked. Just like in the fable story "The Ass, The Table and the Stick" by Joseph Jacobs.

Granted. You have a table that whenever you say, “prepare my dinner” will create a meal upon it. Unfortunately this attracts the attention of some greedy scoundrels. They break into you house, steal your table, your refrigerator, and your plumbing system (how they stole a plumbing system I don't know). This leaves your home in a practically unlivable state and you start to wish you never made that wish in the first place.

I wish for a delicious hamburger.

Granted. The meat you get in your hamburger is literally ham. Unfortunately, they made your burger with sandwich ham that got expired a month ago.

I wish I could grow a black beard, put on a blue shirt and khaki pants, and make a living selling Mighty Putty like a boss.

Granted. When you wake up tomorrow, you'll have a black beard, a wardrobe with nothing but blue shirts and khaki pants, and sell Mighty Potty like a boss.

I wish Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive dung beetle instead of a spider.