Corrupt-a-Wish

Granted, but they think it's so cool that they forbid people from actually driving on the roads, lest the cars ruin their natural beauty. Needless to say this is not good for the infrastructure.

I wish my allergies weren't bothering me now.

Granted, it will bothering you later.

I wish I didn't forget to borrow one more book from public library.

Granted, but you forgot which book you wanted.

I wish NationStates allowed you to set the amount of issues per day to more than two.

Granted, and it makes the game brilliant! But unfortunately you don't get to enjoy it because, for entirely unrelated reasons, your head exploded.

I wish for really nice, sunny weather in England this summer.

Granted, but only for a one day.

I wish I didn't abandon the game Shakes & Fidget.

Granted, but it now has that problem with literally every MMO where everything you liked about it is taken out and replaced with things literally nobody likes, and where it slowly but surely accumulates a playerbase that's basically a bunch of 12-year-olds with the knowledge and mentality of 3-year-olds.

I wish Homestuck's "Gigapause" (a hiatus which started in 2013 and still hasn't ended) was not a thing that exists.

Granted! In the new timeline, Andrew Hussie posted the end of Homestuck sometime back in November. Sadly, it turned out to be pretty much this suggested alt-ending.

I wish I had way more time to work on games!

You are kidnapped by StraightFlame who locks you in the dungeon of his volcano lair (we all know he has one!) and forces you to do nothing but make games. You eventually make a game called 'Help! I'm Stuck in a Game Making Dungeon!' which everyone thinks is brilliant, but no one recognises your cry for help.

I wish it was easier to understand other people.

Granted, but nobody understands you anymore.

I wish there was a YTPMV collab of this song.

Granted; however, the collaborators are unfamiliar with the term "Youtube Poop", and thus create a video full of people talking about hard their poops have been, whether or not they've pooped today, etc. The video portion is almost entirely taken up by an educational film from the 60's about the workings of the bowels.

I wish I had a flying car.

You own a flying car! It's fabulous, flying above the traffic, avoiding the crowds, giving lifts to your friends. It can rise vertically, it's easy to drive and park, it runs efficiently on renewable energy sources so you're not polluting the atmosphere, and it has a large boot (or trunk, if you're a yankee).
Unfortunately, it's radio constantly plays the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang theme really loudly, and there's no way to turn it off, even when the engine isn't running.


I wish I could store my work trousers in my backpack without them getting creased so that I could change into shorts for the three-mile walk home during this unstereotipically glorious summer, and not have to worry about messy trousers the following day.

Granted! You learn the frequent-travelers' trick of rolling your work trousers instead of folding them, and it works like a charm (though you may need to roll something soft up with them, like a lightweight jumper, for optimal results).

I wish I had a computer with a holographic display / interface, like J.A.R.V.I.S.

(N.B. I'm a Yank, but I know the difference between American pants and UK pants.)

The above post has been made invalid because it doesn't corrupt.

Granted. I use my pair of scissors to cut your trousers in tiny pieces, then I spray it with a magical spray that will prevent it from creasing.


I wish someone would tell me where I can buy a product that I'm looking for for a while now.

They quote you the address of a small mercantile in the depths of a monster-infested dungeon, ruled by an evil wizard, which can only be entered by one bearing a Sword of the Ancients. On a lighter note, the price is very reasonable.

I wish someone could explain the workings of my new job to me, rather than making me read a 16-page document.

(oops... guess I should've made milk spill on the crease-free pants and stain them, or something...)

Granted! Instead of having to read the sixteen-page document, you instead get to sit through sixteen hours of explanation by a co-worker with a monotone voice and terrible halitosis. Also, this "training period" is unpaid.

I wish I lived in Italy.