wishes.com

by David

To: dmerwyn@caustic.net
From: genie@wishes.com
Subject: 3 wishes

Dear D. Merwyn:

Congratulations! You have been selected to receive three wishes! To claim your wishes, simply hit the reply button and state your request.

To: genie@wishes.com
From: Dan Merwyn
Subject: Re: 3 wishes

Please do not send any more spam to this address.

To: dmerwyn@caustic.net
From: genie@wishes.com
Subject: Re: 3 wishes

Dear Dan:

Congratulations! You have won three wishes. To claim your wishes, simply hit the reply button and state your request.

To: genie@wishes.com
From: Dan Merwyn
Subject: Re: 3 wishes

Stop sending me this stuff. I get too much spam and I’m certainly not going to buy your stupid product!!

To: dmerwyn@caustic.net
From: genie@wishes.com
Subject: Re: 3 wishes

Dear Dan:

We are not selling anything. You have won three wishes. To claim your wishes, simply hit the reply button and tell us what you want.

To: genie@wishes.com
From: Dan Merwyn
Subject: Re: 3 wishes

Stop bothering me!! Can’t you tell I have work to do?! Telemarketers and junk mail are bad enough, do I have to suffer through this as well? Please, please, please leave me alone!!!!!!!!!!

To: dmerwyn@caustic.net
From: genie@wishes.com
Subject: Re: 3 wishes

Dear Dan:

Telemarketers? Can you express that in the form of a wish?

To: genie@wishes.com
From: Dan Merwyn
Subject: Re: 3 wishes

I get more spam than real e-mail. In fact, most days all I get is spam. Will I never have peace?! Oh, God, I wish the internet had never been invented!!!!!!!!

************************************************************************

I. M. Genie
Wishes, Inc.
321 Desire Dr.
Fulfillment ND

Dear Sir or Madam:

Congratulations! You have been selected to receive two valuable wishes! Do not throw away this letter. Simply reply to the address above to claim your wishes. Please state your wishes unambiguously.

Sincerely,

I. M. Genie,
Field Agent

I Live on Despair

by Edd

I live on despair. It is my meat and depression my air.

You look past me, a simple trunk sitting in the corner of the dayroom, dust-shrouded and ancient. A faded chintz throw covers my top, a battered secondhand lamp with a too-weak bulb weighing it down. Reading glasses might be left here one night, dentures the next.

You don’t open me, you don’t think to. You’re just here to visit relatives, to jolly them along. Wearing happiness like a shroud over misery, over impatience, over gloom, you breathe leaden air and play checkers or talk in low tones with those left to die.

And if some of them die before they should? And if some of them take ill more often? And if some of them have unfortunate accidents? That draws you here to fill me with your raw emotion.

So despair. Cry and wail and stare. Give me your darkness that I might thrive.

Your children come with you, but do not understand. Some day they will–some day when you are here to stay.

I love you all. Make me smile.