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[pikachu17]

You return in your glory. Except you are five inches tall. That picture in the book was full-size.

I wish Dunamisdeos would grow to titanic proportions.

[Rockeater]

Granted, he collapse under his own weight.

I wish Dunamisdeos copies will cover the earth

[Dunamisdeos]

Granted.

Titanic-sized POSTOCALYPSES POSTOCALYPTI RULE THE EARTH. We introduce functional healthcare reform and a new popular economic plan that drastically reduces wealth inequality before reaching out to touch a major hurricane system, instantly converting it entirely into loose post-it notes. The resulting storms of tiny yellow memos block out the sun for days, and the sudden drastic change in wind and weather patterns wreak untold destruction upon coastal areas.

I wish for a mobile floating tank fortress made entirely of post-it notes, armed with howitzers that shoot oversized bottles of white-out.

[Mathel]

Granted. Unfortunately, post-it notes are not a good building material. It starts falling apart in the rain and then shatters when you fire the first howitzer.

I wish for all copies of Dunamisdeos to be shrunk to normal size and turned to gold.

[King Zultan]

Granted now all of the copies of Dunamisdeos are living gold statues with the power to turn any thing they touch in to post-it notes, and your the first thing they touch.

I wish to be in an underground bunker so Dunamisdeos can't come near me.

[Rockeater]

Granted, they don't come close to you but as part of the Dunamisdeos rampage they touch your air supply system and turn it to post-it notes, you die.

I wish I could live also made entiarly out of post-it notes.

[Eschar]

Granted. You become the world's first AI, implemented on a machine made entirely from post-it notes. However, Dunamisdeos uses an exploit to get your hardware to divide by zero, and you freeze.

I wish for the Analytical Engine, but made of post-it notes.

[Dunamisdeos]

"All life begins with Post-it notes and ends with Post-it notes. This is the truth! This is my belief!...At least for now."

THE POSTOCALYPTICAL GOD-COLLECTIVE IS PLEASED WITH YOUR REQUEST. Your machine descends from on high in a flurry of multicolored post it notes, accompanied by an unseen chorus. Unfortunately post-it notes are unable to punch holes through other post-it notes, resulting in a large machine that ineffectually slaps post-it notes together day and night.

I wish for a dry underwater cave base made of post-it notes.

[Madman198237]

Granted. You get a permanently dry base for a cave, under the ocean. However, you only got the bit of post-it-note rock facsimile that the cave should sit on top of, not the cave itself. Darn foreign contractors and their language problems.


I wish for an end to the growing post-it note crisis.

[King Zultan]

Granted, you no longer have to suffer threw the post-it note crisis because you are turned in to post-it notes.

I wish to be excepted by our post-it note masters.

[Madman198237]

Granted. You live just long enough to regret your decision horribly as the very atmosphere turns into post-it notes, and the reduced density of the Earth allows you to fall, fall, fall, until you reach the regions where the Earth's residual internal heat is enough to ignite the little oxygen remaining in your lungs, and your last breath is pure flame, crisping a few intact post-it notes around you as the heat and the pressure gradually break down the notes and reform them into something strange indeed.


But you never see it as the notes break down further and release everything they contain but carbon. You do not see the Earth collapse and slowly turn into a globe blacker than the blackest night. You do not see the first explorers from another star system as they scrape back the carbon dust and find a huge diamond, an enormous, glittery tribute to the awe-inspiring glory of the POSTOCALYPSE.

You do not see it, because you're dead, because you just HAD to refuse to turn into a form of life incapable of surviving in post-it notes, or a superheated wasteland of the remains of denatured post-it notes, or the endless march of time, or the slow crystallization of the notes' remains into a thin atmosphere of nitrogen and oxygen and water and hydrogen and a carbon core. Nooooooo, you had to stay mortal and die, and so you didn't get to see any of the interesting bits.

Except for the part where your breath caught fire, you got to see that. You know, right before your brain squished against your skull and burst because of the heat.

I wish for a source of infinite kinetic energy.

[Dunamisdeos]

The Postocalypticarian Divine Pantheonic Note-Collective is pleased at the addition of yet more post-it notes to the situation. They grant your request, transforming you into a single magical post-it note that can never cease moving as though there was always a gentle, intangible breeze. The post it note features dickbutt drawn on it in purple crayon.

I wish to ascend to a higher plane of divine existence. Outside of space and time I will no longer be able to affect the physical world directly save for the answering of direct post-it note related wishes and prayers, and the ability to fondly regard all post-it note-related creations.

[Eschar]

Toady's already there. Your ascension fails.

I wish for life.

[Dunamisdeos]

You are given life. Also, it's filled with post-it notes instead of this.

I wish for a huge, city-sized space station made entirely out of post-it notes featuring a giant laser that shoots dense streams of colored post it notes.

[King Zultan]

Granted, it's a site to behold, but no one will be able to as post-it notes are not airtight and anyone who goes inside will suffocate and die.

I wish to be immune to post-it notes.