Once there was a man who desperately wished he could write a compelling semi-autobiography. He started wishing this beautiful wish at a very young age, in fact he started wishing at the earliest age anyone has ever started to wish, but nobody bothered to write it down or even take a photo.
When he was at school he wished this very same wish all day, every day. Everyone was so used to seeing him wish that they never really thought anything of it, but the wishing continued until he had wished further and longer than anyone who had ever lived.
Today at 94 years old it is possible that he could forever hold the world record for the longest wish except for one thing, at some point his wish seems to have degraded into more of a mental tick than an actual wish for anything and people stopped saying "shhhh, the man is wishing" and began saying, "dude's looking at his gut".
Even without the support he had gotten, and even with the slow turn the community was taking toward a constant buzz of scorn, he was writing his novel at exactly the same pace as always... nothing. Hadn't even started.
At the ripe old age of 94 - health and eyes in speedy remission - he finally asked for a pen. On that pen was written a slogan, "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it". This was all the encouragement he needed to keep going in his quest. He happily dropped the pen and started wishing once again, now with more vigor and power than ever before. He wished for a bionic sailboat, a scarf made entirely of butterflies, a basket of concubines, and a rocket that could take him to the center of the earth. He wished for more things in his final hours than anyone had ever wished for in their entire lives and he died with the distinction of never having even the most vague and interpretable portions of even one wish come true.
Being so adept at this wishing game, it shouldn't be surprising to learn that this great wisher was also the only man to make a wish 7 days after his own death. The wish? He wished he had never been born.