Again, a flyer magically appeared taped to Jon's forehead. Nobody had walked by to place it there, and nobody seemed to care about its appearance. Why Jon should find that surprising, considering the fact that he was walking home in an outfit that belonged on a high class hooker, was beyond logic. Maybe something about the mysterious wish he had spoken had dumbed him down a bit.
Or maybe he was always dumb.
At any rate, the flyer read as follows:
"Jon,
On my last message I said that your Grandpa was wrong about the stone having a range, and I meant it. Sure, the manifestation of the wish can only be perceived within a certain range of the wisher, but from the wisher's point of view, the wish will always be wished.
Say you wish that men have breasts and the perceived wish range is five miles, everywhere you go, five miles around you men will have breasts.
Get it?
Probably not"
Jon didn't know if he should feel insulted or embarrassed. Probably both. Holding tightly to the stone, indignation rising in his gut, he said, "I wish...
