Corrupt a Wish Foundation

[bugfartboy]

Granted.  Unfortunately you are left without internet until next Sunday!

I wish for a chocolate whirlpool.

[ArtDrake]

Granted. Your loved ones drown a tasty, sticky death.

I wish for a chocolate fountain.

[bugfartboy]

Granted; everything that touches it's chocolaty (or is it chocolatey?) falls turns to chocolate itself.

I wish my brain got internet.

[ArtDrake]

Granted. However, the interface is not subject to your control, so you just have the front page of MSN glaring at you whenever you close your eyes.

I wish my hair always looked nice.

[bugfartboy]

Granted; it always looks relatively nice.  As for the rest of you... well... your hair needed something to be compared to.

I wish I could find the push-pin I accidentally knocked off my wall without unintentionally stabbing myself with it.

[Professor Factass]

Granted; it always looks relatively nice.  As for the rest of you... well... your hair needed something to be compared to.

I wish I could find the push-pin I accidentally knocked off my wall without unintentionally stabbing myself with it.

Totally just made an account to reply to this:

Indeed, you find your precious push-pin without being stabbed by it, however, the iron law of causality forced the universe to create yet another push-pin for you to accidentally step on.

I wish that no one can reply to my current wish, and that no one can ruin said wish.

[bugfartboy]

Granted. Unfortunately the wish only lasts for four years, after which it loses all potency.

I wish I had more people to play True Messiah against.

[CraigStern]

Granted. Unfortunately, all of them live in Tanzania.

I wish someone would just spontaneously buy up all remaining copies of True Messiah so I could stop paying to warehouse them!

[bugfartboy]

Granted. Unfortunately the pious benefactor who purchased them all tries to pay you in stacks upon stacks of little cardboard gold coins.

I wish the climate would revert to its pre-Industrial Revolution state.

[CraigStern]

Granted! Unfortunately, the prevalence of man-eating packs of wolves returns along with it. As massive forests spontaneously burst from the ground and destroy all the power lines and cables linking up to your house, you find yourself isolated and helpless as the newly revenant wolves descend upon you.

I wish I had unlimited paid vacation days at work.

[ArtDrake]

Granted. However, you find out that this unique arrangement is only in place because everyone detests you, and the company would rather hemorrhage money in the form of a permanent paid vacation than have you come in to work. This is confirmed when you try to come in for work one day, only to be stopped by security, who claim there's an issue with your access badge; they'll call you when it's fixed. They never call. The paychecks keep rolling in, though.

I wish for some delicious berry jams and jellies to make sandwiches with!

[CraigStern]

Heh; so I get paid and never have to actually show up at work? Sweet!

Your wish for delicious jams and jellies to make sandwiches with is granted--however, you are mailed a bill for the full amount of said jams and jellies (plus tax and the cost of delivery!)

I wish the world's adult population would spontaneously acquire advanced critical thinking skills.

[ArtDrake]

Granted; however, most don't use them, due to a sense of personal attachment to the worldview spawned from their biases before they acquired those skills. Very little changes.

I wish for a parody miniseries making fun of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged, airing on a streaming service I subscribe to.

[CraigStern]

Your wish is granted, but the parody is poorly executed and most viewers take it as an endorsement of Rand's worldview, leading to an upsurge in objectivism across society.

I wish I could selectively stop time for everything in the universe except myself, allowing myself to work/walk around/sleep unimpeded, then restart time again at will.

[ArtDrake]

Granted! However, the time-stop doesn't cancel your momentum, so when you apply it, you go hurtling off into space at 67,000 miles an hour due to Earth's orbit about the sun... if you're lucky enough for it to be morning. If it's evening, your momentum carries you the other way, splatting you into the ground at Mach 87 and causing a small earthquake.

I wish to take advantage of the upsurge in objectivism across society to purchase a WWJGD ("What Would John Galt Do?") t-shirt, which I can wear ironically once the upsurge dies down again (due to people realizing that objectivism is a terrible philosophy).