Once upon a time there was a little old man who wished for a whole bunch of shit beginning at an age when he could officially define the word “wish.”
As a young boy his wishes never turned out right. He once wished he could fly like Superman. His wish partially came true. He turned into a bird and used the flight as an opportunity to shit on the heads of all his enemies. It wasn’t long after that he was chased by a ferocious alley cat, warranting him to wish to be turned back into his old young self.
A few years later he wished he had a car so he could pick up the ladies. His wish came true. Unfortunately he never learned how to drive. So while picking up a woman on the ho stroll of 43rd and Heifer Lane, he wound up being chased by a gang of cops for reckless driving and operating a vehicle without a valid driver’s license.
He spent the next 100 hours in a jail cell with a boyfriend named Ice Pic, who incidentally was not a woman. This ended his wishing cycle for the next few turns of a pad lock.
A couple years passed with no wish from the then young boy who quickly turned into a young man/bitch/jail bait. Greed got the best of him over time. He figured with age would come better wishing decisions so he wished for more birthdays so he could have more wishes. What he got was more candles on his birthday cake and a few liver spots.
Once again his wish didn’t turn out exactly the way he’d hoped. By this point he was over it. Just as he came close to losing oxygen from blowing out the million plus candles, he spewed what he thought would be a fail-safe wish.
His wish was, “I wish I weren’t an old man.”
He was quickly running out of time and patience. In a last ditch effort for help, he turned to yours truly for a word of advice.
“Hottywood,” he said. “How can I at least turn myself back into a man without screwing up another wish?”
The question had me stumped for a minute. Then suddenly it came to me!
The moral of the story is to be careful what you wish for.