Every day, the postman delivers a copy of every wish uttered by anyone on Earth to your door. You are inundated in pointless paper wishes. You drown in them. Your postal service starts charging you exorbitant fees for the ridiculous volumes of mail. The rubbish collections do the same.

You are eventually forced out of your home both by the wrath of the angry bureaucracies and by the physical weight of letters.

You sleep on the street, in an ever growing pile of letters. You can’t sleep for too long or you won’t be able to climb out. You are a scourge on the local community.

You have so many wishes.