Granted. You are teleported to the end of your lifespan, and your victim is yourself at the end of the murder spree this very wish has spawned.
I wish I could alter time at will.
Granted! It's new, Water-Flavored Kool-Aid! It looks and tastes exactly like plain water, yet somehow has 50,000,000% of your daily sugar recommendation (per glass).
I wish for the above drink to replace alcohol.
Granted. But it's stolen. From the Mafia. And they know you took it. And now you have red hair and are a step-child.
I wish Nintendo would accept Bowsette.
Granted. Everyone dies from dehydration five minutes before the servers explode from overuse.
I wish the above about servers exploding wasn't actually possible.
Granted. But in the zombie-infested post-apocalypse you are teleported to, you really wish school was the worst of your problems.
I wish for a ring of wishes that has every wish automatically grant me more wishes.
Granted. The constant impact from quarters dropping from the sky kills millions and goes down in history as one of the worst natural disasters humanity has ever faced.
I wish money were not literally actually worth less than the paper it's printed on.
Granted! You are now the architect for the Death Star. And its replacements. Plenty of stuff to do!
I wish I had my own Death Star. Only, with a grill-covered exhaust port.
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