Genies are known for their trickery in which they will technically grant a wish but then there are consequences to that wish being granted. A classic example is that somebody will wish for a million dollars, but then we find out the million dollars is stolen from banks.
So, let's take a turn at being those tricky genies, in a way - because we have the internet and imagination (yeah, the wishes, consquences and conditions can get VERY SILLY)!
The beginning poster posts a wish. The person that posts under it grants the wish, but they put in the part that isn't wanted. That person then also puts their own wish and the game continues.
It might look something like this.
Pen:
I wish I had a million dollars.
Simons Mith:
Granted, but the million dollars is stolen from banks.
I wish I never had to pay another utility bill.
Rak:
Granted, but now you live on a boat with pirates.
I wish I had eyes in the back of my head.
And on it goes . . .
So, I'll start with my wish. I wish that I would never get too cold, no matter the temperature.
I am locking you into a windowless room with walls that admit not a single noise from outside. An amount of food and water will be poured in during daylight hours only.
You spend the best part of a million pounds for the short-lived pleasure of watching a large object tumble helplessly and hopelessly into the sea due to coastal erosion.
You're retired. You eat when you want, sleep lots, complain for little reason and change your mind frequently. Everything has to be just as it was yesterday, or you get cranky. That cough also sounds like you've got hairballs. What do you mean, you wish?
That feature wall in your house that you covered with green emulsion? That's exactly how Constable would have done it too if he'd lived there and chosen that colour.
I would like all my problems solved and never to be worried again.
Here's a lifetime subscription to the Seniors Book Club, featuring such titles as "Teach Yourself Braille", "Which Hearing Aid", and "Easy Sudoku". And there's a bonus: a reduced price on the services of Dignitas!
If only doing a thing was as easy as thinking about doing it.
Try this recipe for Hungarian goulash with extra chili, wherein the flavour and heat are disguised by liberal amounts of dettol, dog biscuits and kerosene.
You own a large townhouse where your cook lives and enjoys a wonderful life while you are forced to live in the forest by a ferocious bear that nobody wants to deal with.
I wish I had students for my online theatre classes.
You own a large townhouse where your cook lives and enjoys a wonderful life while you are forced to live in the forest by a ferocious bear that nobody wants to deal with.
I wish I had students for my online theatre classes.
BOOM! It's 2020. There's a global pandemic. You're teaching undergrads theatre on Zoom. They won't turn their cameras on. They're paying the same fees as before and they hold you personally responsible for their dissatisfaction. You have a panic attack between each class. Have fun. Hidden text[Oof, that one was a bit close to the bone.]
Your students now deeply, fully, and absolutely understand your gnawing sense that you have accomplished nothing of substance and never will, your growing realisation of your own mortality combined with your deep fear of death, your perpetual anxiety about your declining sexual function, your inchoate regrets about all your failed relationships—and the pitiful self-loathing that, like your tinnitus, travels with you at every moment and ensures that, despite all the above, you still suffer from imposter phenomenon.
They now despise you even more than they used to.
I wish I were dining at a Michelin three-star restaurant and drinking a superb bottle of vintage Burgundy.
You are welcomed by a maître d'. Though he says nothing explicitly he nevertheless, through grit of teeth, roll of eye and glance of sarcasm, demonstrates his deep, full and absolute understanding of your gnawing sense that you have accomplished nothing of substance and never will, your growing realisation of your own mortality combined with your deep fear of death, your perpetual anxiety about your declining sexual function, your inchoate regrets about all your failed relationships—and the pitiful self-loathing that, like your tinnitus, travels with you at every moment and ensures that, despite all the above, you still suffer from imposter phenomenon.
Though he serves you professionally, expertly and diligently, he despises you. The food and wine are like ash in your mouth. Bon appétit.
The only way world peace can be achieved is if the entire population of the earth is drugged up to the eyebrows with diazepam or similar. Some countries could make it by the ton but some simply don't have the facilities or expertise. The resulting distribution problems would lead rather rapidly to the Diazepam Wars, in direct contradiction to the desired aim.