My personal stance is that wishing, hoping or sacrificing a live chicken is irrelevant to swaying an outcome in any favor. I am no different than anyone else as I’m prone to praying for things to turn my way but channeling willpower towards a desired result is useless. Back when my team won the Super Bowl, I wished as mightily as my heart could handle for a victory, but despite my efforts the team never recognized my fortitude at the championship parade or awarded me a ring.
In playing devil’s advocate, I have been wrong before on assumptions that I considered a sure bet. I would have gambled my first born on Goliath winning as I heard the tale. I was also certain about a romantic connection with a stripper once, but alas my remarks weren’t as witty as my wallet emptied and she went on to undress for other people. It goes against my better judgment, but perhaps there is a slim chance that wishing can influence a circumstance towards a preference.
Since there’s an ounce of doubt, I’m preparing a backup plan in case the unexpected occurs. Maybe there is some sort of Wish Genie floating around and granting the rarest of wishes. It’s human nature to crave simple pleasures like the grass mowing itself or there’s ice already made in the freezer but I better look at the bigger picture. On the tiniest odds that a supernatural force is scarcely authorizing wishes, then it’s asinine to waste any on something insignificant.
Could you imagine if I was given one shining moment of fulfillment and I used it for pre-made frozen water? I would have been blessed with anything in the universe and what I fancied was cubes to cool down a glass of lemonade in the middle of winter. Eternal riches were within my grasp, but an impulsive urge let them melt away.
Well as of now, all of my wishes will have a permanent effect. I still won’t believe they will be answered, but “Genie forbid” I am wrong, they’re not going to be squandered away on a temporary happiness. Say I’m at Driver’s Motor Vehicle, rather than hoping for a short wait on line or that all the customers ahead of me to disintegrate, I’ll wish to be the Emperor of France.
That fruition treats my impatience, avoids crumbling innocent bystanders into dust and has me chauffeured around from castle to castle drinking fine wine in the back of a limo. I’ve revamped curing a minor nuisance into living comfortably as a foreign aristocrat. A position as a figurehead of an elite European country solves my current hassle and improves my life for the long term.
So my advice to everyone is, if you are sitting in your office cubicle around 3pm and are desperately wishing for the 5pm whistle, please reassess. That’s skipping a measly two hours and you still have to return tomorrow. What if 3pm was the instant when your one wish was destined to prosper and it was blown on magically teleporting outside the office a few hours into the future? On your commute the following morning, I guarantee you’ll be biting your lip in frustration that you’re not flying to superhero headquarters or constructing a play fort from an excess of gold bars.
A smart man is always investing into the future. Wishing a bit more would squeeze out of the toothpaste tube before heading to bed is fruitless by dawn. Shoot for the stars or risk settling for the booby prize is my motto. I’m confident this essay will not net me a billion dollars, but on the microscopic chance this wish is bestowed upon me by a higher being, I’ll be awfully glad this piece wasn’t named “I Wish I Could Trade This Essay for a Ham Sandwich.”