Granted! You're wings extend with incredible majesty giving you a sixteen foot wingspan! Sadly, they extend from each buttock, making flying a cumbersome and somewhat painful experience, given that you're totally hunched over. Having a BM is now incredibly challenging, and on more than one occasion you've launched a paint bucket sized dallop of feces from your protruding wings caused by muscle spams mid-pinch! The walls of your bathroom become a veritable soup of bacteria and disease, and eventually you succumb to a poop born bacteria. You die in a sea of your own effluence. On the plus side, they exhibit your skeleton at the Smithsonian in the museum of natural history.
I wish for Martin Sheen to become the next US President!
GRANTED! Only, sadly, it's an artsy episode, where very character is played by Meg. It's instantly referred to as "The Unmentionable" episode. I drink myself silly on Robitussin (cough Syrup) and Coca Cola (aka: RobiCoke!) and wander off the santa monica peer, into the awaiting Jaws of a Killer Crayfish!!!!
By Crypt 
I wish I get a band in real life soon, I am very good guitarist and vocalist, I deserve a nice group, also I wish health and happiness to all my family, friends and people in general.
Granted, only the band dumps you after one session and goes on to be bigger than jesus.
I wish posters would read at least the original posts first bit so they understood how to play before posting!
...side Wish: I wish For Montezuma's Revenge upon the aforementioned!
Granted! They read them and still don't care. (As for the side wish it was also granted but unfortunately the effects didn't take place until he was at your house. Shame about the bathroom tile, some things you just can't scrub out.)
As I wished for earlier, but was sort of missed:
I wish Barry Zito was actually useful to the San Francisco Giants this season.
Granted! The Giants can now boast the highest-paid laundry boy in baseball history!
Unfortunately, the subtle creases a left-handed ironing job leaves in a jockstrap causes such excruciating scrotal pain that no one can actually play. Well, except for Buster Posey... apparently, he's into that shit.
By Bueno_Excelente 
I wish I the cat would shut up.
Granted! Using a ruthless combination of Liquid Catnip, Peanut Butter, and Bondo, you devise a tasty cat treat that permanently solves the cat noise problem. Sadly, having reduced their available effluence exit ports by 50%, your cat now manages to launch hair balls from its sole remaining orifice. This development also increases the amount of pressure required to move this once oral, now aural projectile and you now own the only cat in the Continental United states that shits hair balls through four inches of plate steel. You discover this incredible new development as the cat does its regular routine early one morning of sauntering up to you and then immediately pulling a one 180 the minute you go to pet them, exposing your to their Brown Eye of Death.
Two years later the new tenants are still pulling the cat wretch caked rectal chunks of the back of your skull from the drywall, believing it to simply be the leftovers of bad spackling.
Dammit! I was too slow, so I'm poaching/piggybacking DzDog's wish for dead yankees!!!