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Weekly Contest #315
"I wish I could kill whoever designed this thing!" Mike said as he chucked the hammer out into the Martian landscape. It twirled lazily through the air, dipping below the next cliff. "Careful with that," I said. "The hammer is fine! It doesn't matter; none of this matters anymore! The drills are dead." He slumped into a crouch, head in his hands. "There was supposed to be ice here." "I meant the wish." Mike looked up at me indignantly. "What?" "They come true sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. You'd never forgive yourself if you wasted tha...
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