Wish granted. You speak in a flat, droning monotone at all times - even in an emotional state - and display no facial expression ever again. People either think you boring or discomfiting, and you die alone, friendless and scarcely remembered. While engraving your gravestone, the mason forgot what he was doing, and thus never finished it; he delivered the unfinished work to your disinterested family. No-one noticed. No-one cared enough to look.
I wish writing the above passage had been less depressing.
