Granted! And hopefully I can avoid a bland copy of Office Space.

You have no stress in your life. No one demands too much of you, nothing is too difficult, and nowhere you go is there traffic, deadlines, strict timetables, or anything of the sort.

And for a few days, it's wonderful. You feel free in a way you've never felt before.

Soon, the freedom begins to grow dull. After all, when you don't have any serious demands or expectations, nothing you must truly work to accomplish, it gets a bit difficult to motivate yourself to try at anything. So you gradually begin putting less effort into things.

And soon, even less.

And soon, less still.

Before long, no one can give you a task because your sense of accomplishment is so atrophied. You cannot motivate yourself to do anything. Even going to the fridge for some food is too much stress on your now-empty give-a-darn tank.

However, there is hope, because dying takes too much stress too. So the world bends itself to provide for you. In a few months, you no longer need food to survive. You no longer need water either, because drinking is too much stress. You don't need anything, actually.

And so you simply continue to exist in a state of absolute nothing, because processing input is too much stress on your brain.

I wish I had a rogue smile.
(DEF: a rogue smile is one, according to a female friend, that is "charming, disarming, one that says you know all her secrets and won't tell a soul")

Granted,

You're sitting in the courtyard on your lunchbreak the next day, and he comes over, and sits beside you, a beautiful rose in his hand.
He nervously stammers out his loving adoration of you, how he'd always looked over at you from his place in the room, or during lunchbreak, or even when you were walking home.

A couple of days later, he comes over again, whispering sweet things into your ear. A beautiful life, eh?
That afternoon, you see him leave with a glint in his eye. There's a note in your locker; it's from him. It's a beautiful piece of poetry, but at the same time, there's something weird about it - phrases like
"You need me"
and
"You'll always be my own"
They're nice, but the way he was pressing his pen into the paper when he wrote it tell you something's up.
The next day, it looks like he's shadowing you - the canteen, through the halls, even outside the ladies restroom door. It's getting kinda creepy, the way he's acting so obsessed.

On your way home a couple of days later, he runs up to you and tries to force you into his nearby car, and you just barely escape.
You get home, and look out the window - his car's parked on the kerb outside, and you can see a silhouette inside.

This goes on for weeks - you can't get anywhere without your crush's crushing presence around. It's making you paranoid.

Finally, you move house - you change your name, cut and dye your hair and move out to the remotest place you could find - a tiny island in the middle of the pacific ocean.
You survive mostly on berries and insects now, but at least you're safe...
...until the day when the chopper flies over your tiny island.


I wish for no stress in my life

Granted! (finally...I think we break this community every time we resume this war)

Your intracranial pressure is within normal limits. No more severe, throbbing headaches, no more doctors clucking their tongues and saying to get more sleep, no more guys hitting on you because they suggest that "my head's even bigger, baby," or "wanna feel MY intracranial pressure?"

None of it. Thank god. Cuz those pick-up lines were getting more and more desperate and obnoxious.

Strangely, though, while your intracranial pressure is normal, your INTER-cranial pressure has spiked. You are reaching into people's heads and giving THEM headaches (and bad pick-up lines).

Well, this is new. So you have some doctors check it out. Becoming for only a few moments what you doomed upon me, a glorified lab rat.

They soon figure out that this pressure is a manifestation of the ability, supposed to be latent in all humans, to communicate telepathically. However, it's an imperfect manifestation, one that only allows the cranial pressure increase or decrease. So while you are one step closer to being able to think "come here" and having some bozo approach you, you're not quite there. About all you can do is give him a headache, and that's not likely to draw him to you. Especially if he knows that you're doing it.

Time goes by, and you discover another flaw in the power you have; you can't control it when you're particularly emotional. So your time of the month rolls around and everyone around you feels your pain. Literally. This makes everyone abundantly aware of your personal cycle, and they all avoid you for a week each month. Which some of them do already, but that's beside the point. Now each month your period has become the bane of your existence even moreso than it already was.

You end up turning to birth control procedures that stop your period. This works great for a while, until you realize that having children would mean getting back to being avoided once a month, and that the process of giving birth may just cause someone's head to pop. And while it'd be fun to watch if people's craniums weren't stuffed full of grey matter, it's a bit gross in real life. Just watch a headshot on any major video game and you'll likely figure out why. Blood and guts and goo and stuff, and none of it edible unless you're REALLY twisted.

...ya know, I'm pretty off today. Sorry. I wish I were on top of my game.

Ok, so quick intro to what follows. Last night as I began my night shift, I had my g/f text me the most recent wish at the time so I could work on a granting, text it to myself on Yahoo, and post it when I got home. Yes, I have that kind of time on my hands at work.
So I realize that this first one is out of date; hence, I'll be posting it for posterity and self-actualization, and corrupting the ACTUAL most recent as well.
Then, for some reason, I forgot to change the post location, so this didn't get sent to the community. So the second one is out of date too. I'll edit with a granting of the newest wish shortly.

Luke-xl8 corruption fans, rejoice; today you get not two, but three for the price of one.
of DOOM!

I wish I were having sushi for dinner

Granted!

You have sushi for dinner. You go to bed quite content, your belly stuffed with rice and raw fishmeat. You wake up the next morning to find that you are experiencing an oddly strong craving for more of the asian delicacy. So you order out for more. It arrives and is quickly devoured. Oh, the euphoria! Lunch that day? Sushi again. And dinner. And a late night snack. And all three meals the next day. Oh, the bliss!

By the day after, however, the happy feelings start wearing off. Well, we cant have that. Youve had 3 days of near-constant ecstasy. You dont want it to end! So you start eating more. Then more. Before long, you have the sushi place on speed-dial, you have sold off all you own and maxed your credit, and have lost your job. You just cant stop. The sushi calls to you.

But even that is not enough.

You find yourself wandering through pet stores, eyeing the live fish with an odd gleam and a glazed-over look. A particularly plump loach in a nice clean tank catches your eye one day. You are captivated. You can't get it out of your mind. That night, even as you gulp down your eel and puffer roll, a bit of the old thrill runs through you while you eat, thinking about that loach. Picturing it spread out on your table, fileted with care and tenderness.

Day after day, you return to that same pet shop to admire it. The thrill of fantasizing wears off quickly. Colors seem to lose their vibrancy. The desire grows as the spots and imperfections on the loach's scales fade.

One day you let yourself touch the tank that keeps you from your Everest, your secret treasure. A chill races down your spine. You cease to think, abandon restraint, and palm the glass, shuddering with the rush. You're playing with fire, and you find that you want nothing more than to be burned.

Finally, you realize that you have but one option. You must sell your body to the owner of the pet store in exchange for the loach. Sadly, your charms are lost on the owner, who seems to be asexual.
So you resort to theft. The next day, you saunter over to the tank, check to make sure no one is looking, and plunge your hand into the cold water.

But there's a problem. Your darling fears your embrace! What should have been a grab-and-run has become an epic pursuit. The owner sees your actions and rushes to stop you. You panic, and get careless. There is a heart-stopping moment as the tank falls to the floor when the manager pulls you away from the shelf. The tank shatters.

They try to restrain you, but seeing the treasure at last before you, your adrenaline surges. You break free and bolt forth; the fish is in your hand now, this is it! You open your mouth and cram the loach in. You can almost feel its last heartbeat as your dream is finally realized.
...and what a sweet final heartbeat it is. Finally, you have had the ultimate sushi for dinner.

I wish my prince would come

Granted!

Your prince is here!

It's ME!

Oh, what, you don't think that's enough of a corruption? You don't think that's a sufficiently torturous response to this wish?

You don't know me vewy well, do you?

You don't know my night shift work schedule or my nocturnal sleep schedule that makes most human interaction nigh-impossible. You don't know my incessant geekdork behavior, including jokes and hobbies. You don't know my tendency to make light of the important things while making excessively heavy that which means little. You don't know my horrible temper, which is controlled only insofar as it never hurts anyone (just scares them).

And you don't know my dark, kinky desires and sadistic side. Mwahahahaha!

That's right, your prince sits here, at his computer screen, corrupting wishes each morning before he finally goes to bed...while everyone else is awake. He's cranky and dull in the afternoons (if he's awake), lively and obnoxious in the evenings, and gone at night to work or LAN parties. I bet you weren't even certain LAN parties still existed. They do. Oh, do they ever.

Come with me and be my love/and we shall all the pleasures prove. wink wink.

i wish i could find 'A place in the sun' for free online so i could watch it

Also granted!

You find "A Place In The Sun, starring some guy and some girl, for free online. Strangely enough, you find that it's not a particularly good movie. Even though you searched for it for hours, you still aren't very pleased.

It's not that the cinematography is faulty. It's not that the scripting is bad or even that the acting is mediocre. It's that the makers of the movie apparently placed random segments of text in different parts of the movie, almost like subtitles. Then the screen flashes white for a moment and the words are gone.

You feel an incredibly strong urge to kill Bill Gates, though.

So you put the movie aside and look for another one. You come across Wild River online as well, also starring Montgomery Clift, on the same site. Boy, that Bill Gates really should be shot. You find that it's a fairly decent movie, though it has the same issue with the random subtitles folloed by white screen flashes. Man, Bill Gates and John Madden would look great hogtied at the bottom of a river.

You keep browsing, opening another tab to research poisons. The site also hosts "From Here To Eternity." Bill Gates and John Madden will know eternity soon... Montgomery Clift manages another excellent performance.

Three days later, you are arrested for an assassination attempt on Britney Spears.

Subliminal what?

I wish I had the power to control my hair growth.

P.S. Yes, I really did text that entire corruption about the sushi to myself. It took nearly an hour and a half. And there were four or five typos, cuz I didn't look at the screen but once every 15 minutes.

granted! some old relative you didn't know you were even related to dies and leaves you his house. the space looks great, so you ditch your apartment and move in. then you realize that the roof leaks. someone tells you it's likely a good idea to have an inspection, and you're sobbing in your hands when the inspector hands you a very, very large laundry list of things that have to be fixed, and it's not just the roof! the foundation is cracked, there's termite damage, you have rats in the attic, all of your electrical wiring is not up to code and the rot in the floorboards from moisture damage have just caused the tub to plummet through the second floor down into the kitchen. so much for your steak and eggs breakfast to celebrate your lovely new home.

i wish i were having sushi for dinner.

Granted! The moderators install a new personality filter to keep out the idiots. Guess who gets blocked...

I wish I had my own place.

Granted!

Winters in Georgia are now Hot because the entire state was moved to South America. Peru is now the new Georgia, now the new South American tourist attraction for former American states. You are now a farmer and living under a puppet government.

I wish /b/ was good again...

Granted! Producers stop making movies which should stand alone. Every movie made for the next ten years will be designed to end with a cliffhanger and be unintelligible unless you watch the ten to twenty sequels that will follow. No one will be able to keep up with these mega-series. Within twenty years, people will stop going to the movies altogether. Producers will go bankrupt. The movie industry will dissolve. The IRS will repossess Hollywood.

I wish summers in Georgia weren't so hot.

Granted! The most severe volcanic eruption in the history of civilization occurs near your house, jetting huge amounts of sun-blocking ash into the atmosphere.

I wish producers would stop making sequels to movies which should stand alone.

Oh this is so granted.

She's not sick anymore. By some divine miracle, she's healthy, and healthier than you've ever seen.  Before you know it, she's surpassed what a normal human's body can do, and it seems like her body is healing itself and making it even better and efficient (yes yes, stolen from the Outer Limits but damnit it's a good idea and I just woke up ;) )

Soon, scientists hear of this amazing feats, and in the middle of the night, all covert and ninja-like, she gets kidnapped and taken to a top secret facility in the Andes mountains where she will be tested and poked and prodded for the rest of her perfectly healthy life, which may be forever seeing as she just keeps healing herself.

And just think, all this wouldn't have happened if you had just let nature take its course instead of wishing her healthy.

Sigh.

I wish it wasn't so bright out.

Granted! (glad I'm back, Bridal? Don't get too excited; my life and job still keep me juggling about three things at almost all times, and there are still two other hobbies I have yet to rejoin, so it's not looking promising. but iamz seems to be doing a decent job lately...)

You have a good pair of gloves. But not just any pair of gloves.

Intelligloves.

These things, produced by US Robotics Corp. as a follow-up to their miserable failure with the Nestor Class 5 model, have it all. Built-in toothbrush so you can just hold your gloved hand up to your mouth and brush your teeth (which may or may not have fallen out), built-in key storage a la D&D Gloves of Storing (instantly miniaturizes whatever you place in them, with the capability to enlarge it to normal size again just as instantly) so you never lose your keys (so long as you don't lose your gloves), even a combined vibrator/pheremone secretion device, or PSD, so that your masturbation/intimate playtimes are that much more enticing.

For cats.

That's right, a malfunction with the PSD has made the glove constantly secrete feline pheremones, drawing cats from far and near to purr obnoxiously loud while rubbing around your ankles and meowing piteously, begging for attention and just waiting...just WAITING...for one touch from that gloved hand to send them to the highest levels of ecstasy ever imagined in their wormy little brains. Yes, it's even better to them than tuna.

But that's a minor flaw, really, so long as you walk your dog consistently. Cuz the dog will, if it's any dog worth walking, keep the cats away or eat them. Which of course will help keep them away.

The gloves do far more, too. They have a combined dictionary-thesaurus so that anything you write can be automatically corrected for spelling and excessive word repetition.

In Russian. Yes, the dictionary is for transliteration of the Russian language, and the gloves (believing their logic to be undeniable) insist on correcting every word you write in any language whatsoever into the closest approximation of a Russian word. This works to your advantage...well, never, really. But with everyone using computers and texting and whatnot these days, with your fancy technology, you kids get off my lawn--err, I mean...with rampant technological semi-savvy, you don't really write that often anyway, so that's another very minor problem.

But this is only a partial functionality explanation of the gloves' glory. Yes, dear god, there is more.

These gloves have been programmed with an intelligence complex that allows them to integrate with your optic nerves and aural sensory cortex and perform the basic functions of automated vehicle piloting. That means that any vehicle you can drive, it can drive for you. If you know how to drive a car, it can do that. Motorcycle? No problem. Massive underground mining drill that will damage the foundations of the buildings of every city in a 500 mile radius and possibly cause earthquakes if driven into a tectonic stress point?

...wait, what?

The intelliglove also contains the functionality to correct code errors in C++ and graphical command errors in all Computer Aided Design systems. So long as those systems are Mac applications, making designs and programs for Mac computers. Windows? Sorry, non-compatible. But you don't actually program or CAD anyway, do you?

The intelliglove has been designed with a Adrenaline Distribution Device as well. It has the unfortunate inability to turn off, making you...you guessed it...seem ADD. It won't be too bad after the first week of constant adrenaline; you'll get used to it. Or have a psychotic episode.

Oh wait, I was dishing on I, Robot, not Men in Black. Sorry.

You'll get used to it. Or stop cussing and go home.

Much better.

Finally, the intelliglove can integrate with your jaws, tongue, lips, and vocal chords, enabling it to speak entirely for you. Stressing about your next presentation at work (especially stressful with a constant stream of adrenaline flowing through your body)? Concerned what to say on the first date? Don't worry, the intelliglove will do your speaking for you.

...

...

...what? What are you waiting for? Some shoe to drop?

Well, no worries, the intelliglove can catch it before it hits the ground.

I wish...
(ok, damnit, I had a great wish in mind when I started, and now I can't remember what it was. I hate that. The whole reason I hopped back on here was to deliver that great wish, and now it's gone. son of a...)

I wish my girlfriend were not sick anymore with anything

Granted! Your teeth fall out.

I wish I had a good pair of gloves.

Grrranted!

It's not hot at all. In fact, the temperature is perfect, and you find yourself looking forward to every day as you can always plan your clothing according to the weather. Gone are the days when you had to wear a t-shirt AND a sweater, as well as your jacket and possibly your umbrella, just to be on the safe side. No, now all you need is a tshirt, pants and sandals. The gentle breeze, and casual warmth in the air make you happy, happy, happy, as well as the rest of the world.

But wait, what's this? News reports in Bangladesh and Cambodia don't look too good. Seems that most of their sweat shops are having to close, due to lack of demand.  No one wants gum boots, or sweaters, or jackets, and there are already thousands of T-Shirt shops in China and Brazil. Competing would be a headache, and soon the economies in those countries go down. This shouldn't affect you, as you live in a first world country, but it seems that the good weather is also making everyone more caring and willing to help. Before you know it, all first world countries are pledging their money to third world countries. This should make everyone equal and happy, right? Right? 

Wrong.

They might have given them money, but corruption still exists, and so the first world countries keep on giving, the third world countries keep on taking and abusing, and before too long, no one has money, or supplies or resources or anything useful.

But we do have amazing weather.

I wish I could stop biting my nails.

 Granted.

Unfortunately, becoming a crack dealer is a BAD idea. You're arrested, convicted, and spend the rest of your life being traded for cigarettes in prison.

I wish it weren't so hot.

Granted!

Unfortunately, you forgot to watch out for traffic while up in the air, and got sucked into a jet engine. On the upside, the jet you destroyed belonged to Miley Cyrus, who was on her way to "perform" for a bunch of hormonal prepubescents, and you are praised for your deed all around the world. Congratulations!


I wish I had an idea of what to do with my life after I graduate.

Granted! However, without Nabokov's example to admire, you end up wishing Joseph Conrad had never lived instead.

I wish I could fly like a bird in the sky.

Granted!

You do.. except unfortunatelly because it is rather unnatural for someone to do that you also start needing petrol - just like a car. MMmmmmmm.....dinner is served!!!


I wish Nabokov had never lived so I could write like him without getting done for plagiarism!!

Granted! Your disposable tissues now come with a sophisticated noise-canceling system!

They also cost $80 a box. I hope you have some disposable income to spare...

I wish I could run at sixty miles an hour.

Granted! 

It's the biggest, most lucious slice left.  You drool just looking at it, and as your shaky hand reaches for the fork, you wonder, is there anything better than this?

The cake takes a while for you to finish, as you savour every last bite. It isn't until after you've pushed away from the table, stomach completely satisfied that you start to feel a little off.  Shaking your head doesn't help, and neither does rubbing at your eyes.  Your vision starts to blur, your hands aren't responding to your thoughts, and before too long, you've slumped over the table, cheek buried in the chocolate crumbs.

You wake up in a hydraulic tube, filled with green goop on a spaceship currently headed to Vergon VI.  Aliens are getting so much sneakier with their abductions, aren't they.

I wish Kleenex was softer.