The Super-Power Of Mr. Wish (3 ratings) by Diemus Kaspratus
Page 1 of 2 In the small town of Middlebury, Vermont, there lived a man who had a
super-power. Now, take into account right from the start that this power was
not the type one would normally associate with any Hero, Villain, or Comic Book
Character; in fact this super-power was as unpredictable as the weather, and
just as dangerous.
His name was Mr. Tish, but all of the small-minded townspeople only knew him
as Mr. Wish because you see, Mr. Tish had the uncanny power of making birthday
wishes come true - on the spot. As the story goes, it all started when he was a
small boy - his fifth birthday to be exact. As family and friends gathered
around the birthday cake singing merrily, Josh Tish could think of only one
thing; His birthday wish. Being so young and unquestioning, Josh truly believed
that his wish would come true, so when the singing stopped and his mother so
lovingly coaxed him to wish for whatever he wanted, his wished with all his
might and every fiber of his being for a stretch Godzilla, and blew out the
candles. Mr. and Mrs. Clarke's gift was the first he was handed, and upon
opening it he was stunned to see a stretch Godzilla, but not as stunned as Mr.
and Mrs. Clarke. "Didn't we get him the Batman with the parachute?" Mrs. Clarke
whispered to Mr. Clarke, and no one could explain it - except for Josh.
And so it went, year after year, birthday after birthday, wish after wish,
and soon he learned that he could make other peoples wishes come true too. He
wished for them all, and was invited to all of the townspeople's birthday
parties; bikes and cars, toy trains and new clothes, they all got whatever they
could wish for, and he was so popular; his powers were legendary in the town,
and everyone loved him.
It soon became unnervingly apparent however, that not all people got exactly
what they wanted from Mr. Wish. Some folks, as a matter of fact, were quite
appalled, and some even a bit pissed when their "wish" was granted. Like when
Mr. Basco wished for a new house and car, but was surprised to find a "Camper"
winnebego in the driveway that afternoon. Or when Paula Davis asked for a
dollhouse and woke up the next day in a plastic bed, with plastic furniture all
around - her whole house turned into a very large Barbie toy. The real trouble
started though, the day of Ryan Cummings party, when (with big bulging eyes and
clasped hands), he wished to be a Hollywood movie star, and was instantly
transformed (they found out later), into a concrete trophy, cemented into
Hollywood Boulevard. His father (who's birthday happened to be a few weeks
later), did use his wish to turn his son back into a boy from cement - and it
worked - but Ryan was never really the same after that, always walking into
walls and staring blankly at the TV when they were showing pictures of
buildings and stuff. From then on, for some reason, people weren't inviting him
to their parties anymore he noticed, and soon, some of the previously friendly
townspeople turned fully against him, calling him names like "Freak" and
"Killer of birthday wishing people." This was only slightly annoying, until one
day he awoke to thumping sounds and screeching tires late in the night, and
stumbled wearily outside to find that his house had just been peppered with
birthday cakes of the most awful flavors and icings. There was also a message
made out of small burning sticks on the front lawn saying "Die birthday killer,
Die!" This convinced Mr. Wish of the severity of the problem, so he resolved to
solve it by calling a town meeting for the very next day. Everyone in town came
out to the meeting, and Mr. Wish tried his hardest to convince the people that
he would wish no more, but the townspeople didn't believe him. Next Page Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2001 Diemus Kaspratus, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines.
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