The Worst Genie Wishing Game

Pinkatron2000

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Thought I'd shower something we might find fun here, with the worst Genie game.

Very simple. One person will post something pretty tame.

1. I wish I was rich.
Poster two, however, must now grant that wish but in the worst, most creatively awful way possible.
2. After spending 40 years of watching your life, and your family drift away over your suddenly new gambling addiction, you've lost the house. Your spouse, you lost your pet dog too. You're this close to living on the street when you manage to gather the last of your money to buy that one power-ball for over 30 million. You watch the numbers outside on a television through a shop window. You can't believe it. You WON!
The excitement of winning is cut short however, as you suffer a fatal heart attack at that very moment, leaving those on the street about your body fighting viciously over the ticket clasped in your cold, dead hand.


It doesn't have to be tragic, however. It can be as silly as you can make it too.

1. I wish I could fly!
2. Congrats, you now own the worlds largest moon boots that will let you bounce-fly into the air for several minutes.

So we start with a wish, then the next poster corrupts that wish. The corrupter can choose to make a wish for someone else to corrupt, or someone else can wish. So on and so forth.

I'll start:
I wish I was a unicorn!
 

JustCallMeMako

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"Such a request will take a measure of time. You will become a majestic horned equine creature of legend within a fortnight." What the genie didn't tell you before snapping his fingers with a smarmy grin was that your transformation would be public. Very public, in fact. Smack in the middle of the Super Bowl halftime show, while you danced slightly out of time to a Katy Perry song in a ridiculous unicorn costume, it happened. The entire stage became engulfed in a thick pink fog, and when it cleared, there you stood briefly, in all you mythical majesty, before bolting from the stadium, leaving dumbfounded silence in your wake. Now, having been seen by tens, if not hundreds of millions of people, you will spend the rest of your days avoiding humans. Most who seek you out only want to witness or touch you for luck, but a great many want to capture you for display, or kill you and make miracle cures from your various body parts. Enjoy your wish!

As for me:
A quote from Futurama comes to mind: "I don't want to live on this planet anymore." I wish I could be among the first to live on Mars.
 

Pinkatron2000

Exhausted Retail Unicorn
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In the middle of washing your dishes one day when wishing out loud, a genie appears and tells you, "Wish Granted!"

They clap their hands and you find yourself confined in something completely head to toe. At first, there is a ringing in your ears that won't clear and you cannot see anything. The first thing you hear is the harsh, rapid gulps of air you are taking. But it sounds as if your head is in a bell and too loud to your own ears. There is a moisture in this confining space that reminds you of closed spaces and condensation of your own breath. Each time you inhale, it comes with the taste of copper and staleness.

When your vision clears you are bombarded with stars wheeling past you in steaks and flashes. Your body is cumbersome. You are in a heavy suit of some sort built to withstand what you now know by those flashes of light--stars--space. There is a readout projected on the inner surface of what must be your helmet but not a single bit of it makes any sense to you. It flickers in and out like an old television, as if the signal that is feeding the readout has been damaged. You cannot tell up from down or left from right as vertigo and weightlessness battle in your brain together.

You're spinning.

For one brief moment in your wild circling you see below you on the surface of a red planet what must be a station of some kind, enclosed. Brief snippets of color and and hints of life within are all you get before you are wildly careening away. There's a tether from your waist floating before you.

Some how. Some way. You've been struck and disconnected from whatever it was you--or whomever's body this is that you now occupy--were fixing in the lower gravity on Mars and are now endlessly, forever spinning further and further away.

Technically, for the shortest of moments, you were in fact living on mars. Probably. And you are, in fact, not living on this planet anymore. Neither Mars nor Earth nor anywhere.

The scream you emit is deafening inside your helmet. But of course as the old saying goes...in space, no one can hear you scream.
 

JustCallMeMako

New Member
6
3
3
In the middle of washing your dishes one day when wishing out loud, a genie appears and tells you, "Wish Granted!"

They clap their hands and you find yourself confined in something completely head to toe. At first, there is a ringing in your ears that won't clear and you cannot see anything. The first thing you hear is the harsh, rapid gulps of air you are taking. But it sounds as if your head is in a bell and too loud to your own ears. There is a moisture in this confining space that reminds you of closed spaces and condensation of your own breath. Each time you inhale, it comes with the taste of copper and staleness.

When your vision clears you are bombarded with stars wheeling past you in steaks and flashes. Your body is cumbersome. You are in a heavy suit of some sort built to withstand what you now know by those flashes of light--stars--space. There is a readout projected on the inner surface of what must be your helmet but not a single bit of it makes any sense to you. It flickers in and out like an old television, as if the signal that is feeding the readout has been damaged. You cannot tell up from down or left from right as vertigo and weightlessness battle in your brain together.

You're spinning.

For one brief moment in your wild circling you see below you on the surface of a red planet what must be a station of some kind, enclosed. Brief snippets of color and and hints of life within are all you get before you are wildly careening away. There's a tether from your waist floating before you.

Some how. Some way. You've been struck and disconnected from whatever it was you--or whomever's body this is that you now occupy--were fixing in the lower gravity on Mars and are now endlessly, forever spinning further and further away.

Technically, for the shortest of moments, you were in fact living on mars. Probably. And you are, in fact, not living on this planet anymore. Neither Mars nor Earth nor anywhere.

The scream you emit is deafening inside your helmet. But of course as the old saying goes...in space, no one can hear you scream.
Haha! I thought I was going to turned into Rover Opportunity in its final moments. That's pretty good though.
 
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