Granted, it's just embedded in your skull.
I wish the girl I'm dating lived closer so we could see each other more often.
[QUOTE=kaine123;42973144]Granted, it's just embedded in your skull.
I wish the girl I'm dating lived closer so we could see each other more often.[/QUOTE]
Granted,she however wears a chasity belt
I wish I had a rifle
Granted, but you have to dress as Elmer Fudd if you want to touch it.
I wish I was in better shape.
Granted: You're now have normal weight... You're probably going to gain it all back within the next week due to eating habits though
I wish that the portals to the multiverse were unlocked
Granted, but out comes unspeakable horrors into our universe.
I wished I found a peanut under the couch.
Granted, though on closer inspection it's a Walnut and the disappointment kills you. RIP.
I wish my cat had a sense of propriety and decency.
[editline]25th November 2013[/editline]
[QUOTE=LondierX;42973418]Granted: You're now have normal weight... You're probably going to gain it all back within the next week due to eating habits though[/QUOTE]
Good guess seeing as I'm on an internet forum, but my weight is fine. Just unhealthy.
Granted, but your cat still considers you an inferior being and thus does not behave any differently toward you.
I wish die-cast models weren't so goddamn hard to find.
Granted, but all the models you buy rust and disintegrate in a month.
I wish my dream man bumped into me and we'd fall in love and be together.
Granted, but when you begin to really get to know each other, it becomes apparent that he's just a trashy, vapid, orange tanned, party animal man whore.
I wish that I lived right next to a Wetzel's Pretzels.
Granted, but they close down.
I wish it would snow.
[B]Woah, holy shit, Spherithex you come here?[/B]
Granted: It's an uber blizzard pretty much covering the entire county/area you live in in snow. And it's all yellow snow.
I wish that I had a cheap, good looking, tuxedo that smelled like roses.
Granted, but you can't go anywhere in it without being mobbed by sweaty Sailor Moon cosplayers.
I wish I was emperor of the internet.
Granted, but your asshole excuse of a son beats the living shit out of you, thus forcing you to sit on a life support system powered by the souls of a thousand randomly selected sods every single day.
I wish i had a 3D printer, along with everything i need to print out my own Space Marine army.
Granted, but they swarm over your face in your sleep and cause you to suffocate to death.
I wish my immune system was flawless.
Granted. Your immune system now targets all the bacteria in your digestive system and all your brain cells leaving you with undigested food and brain death.
I wish for gumbo
Granted, but it contained every illegal narcotic in the North America (and the UK), causing your head to explode.
I wish for a Red Bull factory.
Granted. You have a factory that constructs male bovine of a crimson hue. Good luck commanding them.
I wish I had more Christmas spending money. :(
Granted. You get millions and millions of dollars. With your new money you are able to get a big mansion and buy all the things you ever wanted. You now live a life filled with fast cars and beautiful women. You drift apart from your old friends, your old life. Slowly disregarding true friendship for money-fueled relationships. You throw extravagant parties for hundreds of people you don't know, smothering your growing sense of loneliness with false friends and expensive prostitutes. Your parties grow more out of hand. Cocaine is now a daily routine. Every day is spent chasing that feeling of your first high. You start alienating even your new "friends." You hate waking up every morning in your luxurious mansion, with a full bank account but an empty life, a new gold-digger next to you every time. You start lashing out, growing more and more restless, harboring suicidal thoughts. When waking up after a blackout one day and finding your mansion thrashed, your knuckles bloody and a girl beaten half to death in your bathroom, you decide to end it all. With the barrel of a 44. in your mouth and a half-empty bottle of Vodka in your hand you think back on the path that landed you in this horrid situation. In a moment of clarity you decide to go back to the family and friends you scorned so many years ago. You call your parents, which you haven't even talked to in years, and pour your heart out. You find that they still love you, and they beg you to come back to them, to your old life. Full of purpose, you walk out of your expensive mansion, full of lies and empty promises. You feel more free than you have ever felt. You are ready to live again. Surround yourself with true friends and a family that loves you.
Then you're hit by a bus. You die in agony, alone in the street.
I wish for a Happy Christmas
[QUOTE=xeo xeo;42980730]Granted. You get millions and millions of dollars. With your new money you are able to get a big mansion and buy all the things you ever wanted. You now live a life filled with fast cars and beautiful women. You drift apart from your old friends, your old life. Slowly disregarding true friendship for money-fueled relationships. You throw extravagant parties for hundreds of people you don't know, smothering your growing sense of loneliness with false friends and expensive prostitutes. Your parties grow more out of hand. Cocaine is now a daily routine. Every day is spent chasing that feeling of your first high. You start alienating even your new "friends." You hate waking up every morning in your luxurious mansion, with a full bank account but an empty life, a new gold-digger next to you every time. You start lashing out, growing more and more restless, harboring suicidal thoughts. When waking up after a blackout one day and finding your mansion thrashed, your knuckles bloody and a girl beaten half to death in your bathroom, you decide to end it all. With the barrel of a 44. in your mouth and a half-empty bottle of Vodka in your hand you think back on the path that landed you in this horrid situation. In a moment of clarity you decide to go back to the family and friends you scorned so many years ago. You call your parents, which you haven't even talked to in years, and pour your heart out. You find that they still love you, and they beg you to come back to them, to your old life. Full of purpose, you walk out of your expensive mansion, full of lies and empty promises. You feel more free than you have ever felt. You are ready to live again. Surround yourself with true friends and a family that loves you.
Then you're hit by a bus. You die in agony, alone in the street.
I wish for a Happy Christmas[/QUOTE]
Granted, however you end up living in a box with a shoe named Oliver being your Best Friend
I wish for the Six Celtic nations to be independant
Granted! They all go to war with the USA, the USA surrenders, and the Celtic nations end up taking over the world in 7 hours. Not so bad so far, but because of the new drinking age laws, everyone gets alcohol poisoning and dies. The end!
I wish for a lifetime supply of Energy Drinks.
Granted. Your liver and kidneys jump out of your body and say "fuck this"
You die almost immediately."
I wish for a larger penis
Granted but you're now asexual.
I wish that milk wouldn't go off.
Granted, it comes already spoiled in the store.
I wish that I could speak German.
Granted, it is now about 5 inches in diameter and weights about seven tons.
I wish that below poster would give a good suggestion for a painting.
Granted.
On a whim, you start a painting. You got the idea from at an internet forum. You had never seen the user who gave you the idea before, but whatever, you just wanted to paint something, and this seems as good as anything. The scene is of an old woman sitting comfortably in a leather chair, hands folded, and a serene look upon her face. As you start the painting, you notice that however bright colors you use, they seem duller on the canvas, more washed out, colder. You take this as inspiration, and decide upon a new atmosphere for the scene, more akin to realism. after hours of working on it you start to notice a slight deviation of your general style. The room you're painting is cold, unfeeling, harsh. The old woman is thinner, more sickly than you thought you painted her. You could have sworn you hadn't made her blind, but her glassy eyes are clouded, milky white. You blame the unparalleled concentration you've experienced when working on this particular painting. It's already night. You don't remember how long you've been working, or where you got the idea for this, now eerie and unwelcoming scene. The air around you grows stale and cold, as you get more involved in the scene you're painting. The old woman is now a husk, withered and ugly, with fires burning behind her eyes. you find that you hate her, you want to hurt her. You notice a growing shadow in the corner of the room you don't remember painting in. No matter, you've already forgotten how long you've been working on this scene. The last time you checked your watch it was 5AM. that was several hours ago, but the sun has not risen yet. This painting must be completed. It is your magnum opus. Pests are now scurrying across the floor, eating away at the old lady's grey clammy flesh. There's tears streaming down her face. The walls are oozing pus and decay. The shadow in the corner grows ever darker, sinister. A clawed hand is reaching hungrily for the old woman, barely alive at this point. You hate her. You hate her. YOU HATE HER.
Three days later, they find your corpse. You seem to have collapsed from exhaustion. The doctors can find no discernible cause of death. The painting is praised for it's stunning detail and conveyed emotions. They hang it in the local museum. It's an old woman, sitting comfortably in a chair, smiling out to the viewer. Her eyes seem to follow you from every angle, and in the corner of the room a small boy sits crying, his face saggy and pale, painting a dark picture, with a shadow resting behind him.
I wish for a new Suit
Granted but it's hot pink and because of that everyone doesn't take you seriously.
I wish I was faster and stronger and get rid of my fat
Granted but your girlfriend is now hilariously fat.
I wish for a really positive book written about me.
Granted, but the author is a 6 year old, and all the pictures are crayon drawings.
I wish i was implanted with Space Marine geneseed organs.
You got the implants, now you just need them installed. The people operating on you were extra-terrestrial parasites, and instead of installing the Space Marine geneseed organs, they eat your pancreas.
I wish for an exotic animals lisence.
Granted, you get a Exotic Animals [I]Lisence[/I].
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