Failed Wish Game -RedwallType

[ferretface]

Granted...after much reserach, you come up with...well, let's just say it's Jerkingleytonington, but, it has a line of various things meaning son of in various languages...
Fieuline son of ap O'McMacJerkingleytoningtonsonsson.
Needless to say, when the character eventually gets sued for whatever, the lawyers die instantly after twenty minutes of referring to her as such.

...

This does nothing to improve the novel

I wish that Kegro would-
*Clonk!*
...well, I was going to say had the world's largest source of pie, but NOW I wish he would be compressed into a small slice of lasanga!

...

That the next poster gets to eat!

*CLONK!*

[Shadess]

Granted! yet somehow he manages to escape the slice of lasagna, and starts clunking the next poster for trying to eat him.....hey.....wait ain't oi the next poster?
<_<.......
*says as quickly as possible*
and the next poster calls the redwall police to take him away..........
......
.....
.....
DONT CLONK ME~!!!!!!

i wish Kegro wont clonk me to death

[Wildrun]

Granted, instead, he cretes a disease (where he got the equiment and the scientific know-how to do so beats me) that will clonk every other poster, starting with me.

...Oh, fudge buckets.

*is clonked*

CONFOUND IT!

...I wish I could think up a decent expletive to use within the walls of Redwall that wouldn't get me thrown out on my tail. XD

[Yves]

Granted. Now, although in the vernacular expletive has come to be synonymous with profanity, the reality is that it can be any interjection which does not convey independent meaning, and is diagrammed on a horizontal line above the clause it would very much like to modify, but, due to its nebulous and generally useless nature, fails utterly to affect at all.

As it happens, the most decent expletive in existence is the conversational non-technical word "ah." This word, if you can call it such, is utter rubbish, and bad speakers (espescially politicians and talk-show radio guests) usually use it to notify their audience that they have something to say, but they have to think up what it is real fast.

Now, as damnable as this word is, it does have one redeeming quality. That is, that if there were ever a person who was God, Mary Poppins, Southern Gentility's archetypal manifestation, and Shirley Temple all rolled into one, she could not, even with all her critical judgmental skills, find anything remotely offensive about it. It is therefore completely decent.

So, you pick up the habit of shouting "Ah!" whenever... well, whenever you feel like it. It's just something you start doing. It is very annoying. When you are living in an abbey, you do not like to go through the halls hearing some wretched mouse shouting "ah!" every twenty seconds.

To make matters worse, you yourself get bored with simply shouting "ah!" every twenty seconds. To try and improve matters, you start to get creative with it: You compose songs using nothing but "ah," you write poems which put "ah" to meter, you write novels which concern the characters "ah," "oh," and "um," and generally put it to extremely irritating use.

Well, it gets to be so ah annoying that the Redwall council decides to condemn "ah" as a profanity, making formal speech nearly impossible in every language since all speeches require profuse use of the word "ah" and its euphemism "um," which was also condemned by the council as an extra measure, but all speeches are also diametrically opposed to profanity.

So, because of you, oratory effectively dies, which brings democracy down with it, which means that tyrants no longer have any opposition in this world, which effectively means that Maximillian is now the henchman of Fieuline, the world's new High Priestess of all Which is Not Quite Desirable but Nevertheless Necessary.

I wish I knew what to do with my newfound power.

[Wildrun]

O,O

...IT'S BRILLIANT!

Ah, I seem to be breaking the new rules here. Ah well!

...Granted, Yves, granted more than you could possibly imagine. Being who he is, Max steals all the power from you then sacrifices every last ounce of it Fieuline. Now that she's not only been titled A Name to Rival Trickio's Ego--"OI!"--and has all of that universe-bending power, she decides to put it to redundant good use and revokes the un-irre-im-revocable law against the word 'ah', and ah's buddy 'oh', and let's not forget the evil warlod 'um'. Now that Ah Oh and Um are back, having been re-released into the universe and respectivaly (according to the ITFPJ's constitution, of course) every other universe that sucks as bad as our does (...), they go on a mad rampage that can only be stopped by Fieuline, but as she's still slowly bleeding to death and is now in the hands of tough, scruffy sea otters, she won't be issuing the order anytime soon. Um, seeing you and remembering that you were the one to come to the council and have him banned, attacks you with a vicious roar of rage, which then prompts Ah and Oh to attempt and stop him andas they are doing so a virtual collapse in universe number 573037101-5759 occurs, the mighty WE takes hold again and spread their far reaching roots so that Equality 7-5121 can only barely hold htme back with the power of his free will. And that, in turn, also creates mass controvery, chaos, and spelling mistakes. So, because of that, now "your" power has been turned against you in the most devastating way possible.

That's right, Yves. I said it. The most devastating way posisble--you end up working for Ash at a shoe store frequented by TwiTards of various levels of obsession and old ladies from Iowa complaining about how Harold Hill never DID teach those kids to play in the band.

...There, I'm done. I think.

...
...
...
...Er, yes, well, anyway, ahem...I wish I could solidify this idea of mine, this newest plot-epiphany, so I can actually write it down and FINISH writing it before another idea takes the pre-emptive spot in my mind. Yes.

[Yves]

Granted! This idea, as it happens, involves a quickly-written but lengthy, meaningful, and emotionally shattering response to the Salt Water thread, which will forever resound as one of the greatest roleplaying replies ever =D

*shoe'd*

I hate my job >_> Seriously though, 'tis your turn xP

Granted! Unfortunately, this idea of yours was much more stable in its liquid state, where it could mix with the calmer influences of your psyche. After you make the foolish mistake of solidifying it (and inadvertantly concentrating it), you then go on to aggravate the compound further by writing it down on legal paper, which, as we all know, has never been quite normal since the Almighty Bob (of the Transcendent Tribunal of Gods for the Fabrication of Spiritual Law, clergical predecessor of the ITFPJ) sneezed on a pad, and ended six universes.

So, the combined instability of your idea and the somewhat perturbed nature of legal paper combine to.... do absolutely nothing. The sheer danger-levels of both elements simply cancel each other out, forever normalizing both your idea, and all paper similar to Earth's legal paper.

Unfortunately, Almighty Bob had always been fond of the power of his sneeze, and he was not at all pleased that you had so rudely ended the curse. He immediately materializes, in all his Bobly glory, immediately in front of you. He does not have to ask if you were the one to end the curse, because the white aura of brilliance which your idea had enveloped you with is a dead give away.

So, as punishment, he takes you on an all-expenses paid trip through your life, where he shows you how much better off the world would be if he had never filled out all the paperwork necessary for your existence. This trips takes something of 26,000 years. Almighty Bob likes to talk, especially when that talking allows him to show how he can turn a three-word idea into five hundred seventy-nine thousand, eight hundred eighty-nine complex sentences , twelve random dependent clauses, and a list of footnotes, citations, and clarifying scribble as long as the Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry--a skill which served him well in the business of fabricating spiritual law.

Just when you think it's over, Almighty Bob makes a final stop at my shoe factory, where I am listening empathetically to three elderly women from Iowa while leading them sadly astray with subtly deadly advice, as I watch Maximillian remove the left lungs of eight particularly annoying TwiTards with their friends' incisors for, "Great Justice And All That." After he is finished, he uses the lungs to design a heart-shaped piece of art, which he ships off to China for morbid "scientists" and "art appreciators" and "rebels who like looking at art made of people's left lungs because it gives them a stigma to feel persecuted about," to enjoy gawking at.

Bob, of course, points out how much better the lives of these twitards and old ladies would have been if you had not so cruelly unleashed me upon them. He does admit that the death of the twitards probably benefit an awful lot of someones somewhere, and that the lung-art was pretty nifty, but you couldn't really count that as good which you had done, since it was indirect. As the constitution of the ITFPJ says in section "too high and complicated to botherII 36a," "Charity done without the full and obvious intent of the benefactor is not tax deductable, nor does it prevent spirits from being cast into the fire and brimstone of Hyrule. Happy coincidences fall under the jurisdiction of the 'gods who work in mysterious ways' department."

I wish that the next wish would give me supreme power over the universe in all dimensions and times.

[Wildrun]

Posted.

Granted. Please read the above reply to the wish you made involving newfound power. Except now you're not even working for the Ash-o, you're just a lackey fitting the shoe sizes of the semi-important, puffed-up and stuffy-nosed members of the ITFPJ. Oh, and Bob. Yes.

I wish I had more control with these girl scout cookies.

No, scratch that. I wish I remembered a Red-wall based wish to have! DX

[redwalldibbun]

Granted but u lose it and an eagle takes it away.
I wish I wasn't so lazy

[Swing]

Granted.

...I'll grant it later.

I wish I could see Shear Madness again. D:

[Spook]

Granted, but the entire thing has been rewritten by O.J. Simpson featuring a murder that "never" happened.

I wish I had super-strength, telepathy, and super-vision.

[Wildrun]

((Cool--or, you know. Have you seen Shear Madness, Daniel?))

Granted--your kyrptonite is air. Good luck with that.

I wish I knew people who were manly.

[Spook]

((Can't say that I have. Should I see it? Is... is it a movie?))

Granted. But none of them are capable of knowing you, and never will be.

I wish I was Captain Falcon.

[Wildrun]

((Nah. It's a play--an improv comedic murder. It's brilliant. xD))

Granted. However, you cannot control your Falcon Punch and end up accidentally wrecking havoc upon humanity. Unfortunately, we must now come and take you away, ha ha!

I wish I didn't have writer's block! D<

[Prankster101]

I've never done this before, but I've give it a go....


Granted!!... but, You can write nothing but tales of a spider crawling in and out of a sleeping Cluny the Scourge's mouth...


I wish that my reckless otter would gain some common sense!


_{(Posted while still a member of this site)}

[Spook]

Granted... But he unfortunately loses every other type of mental function... Yeah...

I wish I could breathe underwater.

[Wildrun]

Granted.

You can no longer breathe on land.

I wish I could be more original.

[Prankster101]

Granted.

But you lose your sense of security around all human beings and retire to be a hermit for the rest of your life!

I wish I could talk to animals.


_{(Posted while still a member of this site)}

[Spook]

Granted. But all the animals ever say to you is really annoying stuff that makes no sense. Many of them eventually annoy you to death, literally.

I wish I already had an awesome college degree.

[Nightfire]

Granted.

But then the college campus is lit on fire and all of your books are burnt to cinders.

I wish that I was a bloodwrath-y black squirrelqueen called Nightfire.