Granted. Your job becomes the most wonderful experience of your life. Projects and goals seem to materialize and get whooshed away by your golden touch. You are promoted and receive accolade after accolade. Not just stable, but ascendant.
Meanwhile the rest of your life crashes down around you in a pile of burning rubble. You go to Starbucks, and three people spill coffee on you, accidentally. The IRS audits you 5 years in a row. You are pinned for a murder, because of a faulty read on a fingerprint, and have to spend a hundred thousand to exonerate yourself. Your best friend has you pet-sit while they are away, and all the animals die in freak accidents. You develop alopecia, and patches of skin dry up and turn varicose. Your tailbone dissolves and you find it hard to sit. Your left foot starts to grow again, unexpectedly, and you have to start buying two different pairs of shoes. Metal-eating termites infest your car. You wonder how that can be, but you realize your job is perfect and it’s just the corrupt-a-wish taking its effect. You think there is no end to the things that can go wrong in your life, but then the corrupted wish works its even stranger magic and stops corrupting things for a year.
You think everything is put back in place, while your job just keeps rolling along smooth as butter, and then one fine day you are walking in from the parking lot and a flying monkey shits a stinking squirt of red diarrhea on your head. You realize you thought you were done with the wish, but it rages on, even harder, upending your sense of reality. Weirder and weirder things keep happening. You turn into a woman, and then back to a man, and then a woman again. And then in-between and you are not sure. Your eyes decouple and you have to resort to an eye patch.
Finally, it’s the year 2051: you try to get back on the corrupt-a-wish thread, but the Internet is long gone, replaced by UbiquiNet, and the boingboing bbs is a distant faded memory somewhere deep in the wayback machine. You start a new company, trying to revive the old arts of the bbs, but nobody wants to play. You try to get on NewReddit and post to THAT corrupt-a-wish thread that’s been raging strong for 50 years, but every time you go there, your submission is rejected for unknown reasons. You crawl out into the desert with a thousand leeches attached to your back, and cry to the Lord, “Why? WHY!!! WHY DEAR LORD!!! WHY ME!!!” And the Lord thunders His reply, “Get back to work, asshole.”
I wish I had the same gusto for regular life as I do for typing up these long corruptions.