Corrupt A Wish
This is a very simple and fun game. The first person makes a wish, and each following person finds some way to corrupt the wish and then makes a new wish. For example:
Person 1. I wish I had a dog
Person 2. You have a dog, but it dies the day after you get it
I wish I had a muffin
Person 3: You get a muffin, but you drop it and have to throw it away.
And so on.
Your firt wish to corrupt is this:
I wish I had a new car.
Granted. You get 8 weeks paid vacation. Unfortunately, your 8 weeks vacation was set up to go to France. While you're having a good time, an incident breaks out in which the government and the people are in a civil war. You are caught in between the fighting and can't come back to the U.S. until the fighting has stopped. You are getting paid but the money is going ino your bank account in the U.S. Hope you have enough money to last a while in France!
I wish my arm wasn't messed up so I could play my guitar again.
Wolf Girl 22
Ta-Da! Your arm isn't messed up any more. So you take out your guitar and play, later someone hears you and ask's you if you want to be famous. Ofcorse you say yes and less than a month later your about to do your first show. You're on stage playing and jump off stage without thinking, No one is there so no one catches you and you fall and guess what! You mess up your arm again. Too bad.
I wish I had didn't have wirters block.
Your writers block ends. But unfortunately now you cannot stop writing. It becomes an obsession and you go mad, writing on the walls and tables. You forget to eat or sleep and your friends commit you to a pysch ward.
I wish it could snow and be 70 degrees out at the same time.
Didn't you know that it can?
Surprise! You and the whole family get transferred to Florida, where it's a LOT more than 70 degrees at any time. The welcoming committee pulls out the snow machine and in your honor, decks the whole neighborhood in 2 feet of the white stuff.
Bad news for you: The moving van can't plow throw snow up to the driver's door. So all your stuff gets turned around and sits at the airport (or moving company) until you figure out where it is and try to bail it out a second time.
Worse news for you: None of your neighbors have snow shovels and so they are housebound until the welcome committee runs out of money and white stuff. They can't go to work or school, can't go out to get food, the pipes freeze, et cetera, et cetera. Consequently, a number of your neighbors hold a grudge against you until the next freeze, at which time they pummel you, your family and your house with frozen oranges. Ouch! Might want to toughen up by having a pitching machine target you for a few days (or months).
I wish that Fred the Rottweiler wouldn't carry my shoes off and eat them.
(O_O hot dayum, luc.)
Granted! Fred the Rottweiler stops carrying off your shoes to eat them and goes right to the source. One evening you wake up to find your feet chewed off. :3
I wish it wasn't so hard to find a job. :/
Kathryn Gumshoe the 7th
It's not so hard to find a job. In fact, there is a company offering plenty of positions. You take one of them. A week later, the company is bankrupt and up for foreclosure.
I wish my cat would stop meowing outside the window so I could rest in peace.
Joy to the World!! ;-D
Kitty no longer meows outside your window, so you can now 'rest in peace,' so to speak, and has run off to go meow (or in kitty's case, yowl at the top of kitty's lungs ;-) at another window halfway cross town (mind that flying boot headin' your way, kitty! youch!! that stings!! ;-).
Now why, your brilliant detective mind asks, would kitty run off to a window so far away?? Simple, (s)he witnessed your murder through your window by the notorious lefty Joseph "Zeal" Zeo, and is now terrified out of what's left of poor kitty's nine lives. Sounds like bad ol' "Zeal" left a loose end around, and kitty's hittin' the road before Jack the Kitty-Napper can strike again....
The good news in this whole saga is that you don't hafta worry bout kitty's meowing (or yowling, for that matter) at your particular window, any more, ad infinitum.
Bad news is, yer on your way to a funeral. Your own. Would you like pink roses or black ones?? ;-)
(And you'll have a lovely window in your crypt that your spirit can look out of for all eternity. You can be furious forever and ever when another kitty comes by at two in the morning to meow for you. Don't you feel special?? ;-D
I wish I could get psyched up about Christmas.
(I would just like to interject that Joseph Zeo IS a dirty rotten killer. He offed Vulkie, Marc and I before he was finally subdued. See the J. Harlequin Debacle. XD)
granted! You get psyched about Christmas, only to find out that it is cancelled as a national holiday due to budget cuts and anti-religious adversity. Ouch.
I wish I could get a stupid car!
The mystical elves from the South Pole (remember, this IS the wish board that takes a turn-left-at-Albuquerque, so to speak ;-) have done it again!! And just in time for Christmas too!!
They've loaded up Santa Cluz's sleigh with all sorts of interesting things for good girls and boys all over the world!! And guess what!!! They managed to stuff a brand-new car in the bag, just pour vous, Molly!! YYYAAAYYY!!!!
That's the good news.
Want the bad??
(You know you do. ;-)
First off, Santa Cluz isn't the err, brightest, of stars on the ol' Christmas tree of life. He's gone and parked your brand new car right smack dab in your tiny Living Room!! ;-D ;-D ;-D
Sooo, once you call a towing company and a contractor to get your new toy outta your living room (and rebuild your house), you climb into your shiny new baby and stick the key in the ignition. ..... Doesn't fit. Hmmm.... You try again. And again. And AGAIN!! Just when you're about to stick Santa's key where the snowballs don't fly, you see a small keyhole on the glove compartment, with a post-a-note saying, "Stick in here."
Ooookay. Sooo, you try YOUR key in that lock, and it fits. You open the glove box to find...
An exact duplicate of your key.
("Whassgoin' on round here, Cluz??" you wonder.)
Okay, take two, with the new key. You put the new key in the ignition with a great deal of skepticism this time, to find out....
;-D ;-D ;-D
The engine turns over and starts purring like a kitten. A great BIG kitten. (Have you ever heard a leopard purr?? It's disconcerting, to say the least.)
You jump back in your seat in alarm as your car starts ROARING at you (I did warn you. ;-). By now, the neighbors are thoroughly alarmed, as most of them got awoken rather violently at that last *Roar*, and they come pouring out of their various houses to have a gander at your treasure. You beam at them, ready to show off your toy.
You hit a button on the radio. Instead, the windshield wipers go off. (What the...??) You turn on the lights. The trunk flies open. You turn on the heater. The 'low battery' light goes on on your dashboard. You get out and open the fuel cap, only to see a sticker over it: "This vehicle runs on hairspray and styling products only. No gasoline allowed."
Just as you're ready to break into tears, you happen to glance towards the glove box again, and see a small note, with a bright green bow stuck on it:
You've been a very good, if somewhat problematic, child, this year. So I've given you your heart's desire. Here is your *Stupid* car. May you have many, many long years of enjoyment out of it. Or hair-pulling, whichever comes first.
Love, Santa Cluz
P.S. -- No refunds, exchanges or whining allowed. You asked for it. Marry Xmus. S.C.
Enjoy!! ;-D ;-D ;-D
I wish my two Princes of Mischief would stop chewing on my blue spruce Christmas tree. (They seem to think the needles make a pretty good toothbrush or something. :-/ )