Wishes Don't Come True

Prologue

"It was Hobbes's idea!"

I think it was saying that that gave my parents the idea. It didn't matter to them that it had been Hobbes's idea (kind of) because, well, by fourth grade I had realized that my parents did not see Hobbes like I did. I couldn't explain it then, and sometimes the explanation seems too convoluted even now.

They threw Hobbes away, you see. They didn't even try to help him. I don't even know where he went afterwards. He wasn't in the garbage. Fuck, if I had known where I would have followed Hobbes there. Then again, with the supervision I was getting right after The Incident, I don't know if I could've.

I remember our last meeting like it was yesterday.

"Calvin, I don't know if this is a great idea. . ." Hobbes was hesitant about the idea now that the gas was in my hands and the matches were in my coat pocket.

"Hobbes, what are you, a wimp? I though tigers were vicious, fearless creatures!" He glared at him, daring me to insult him further. I decided that continuing would be against my best interests, so I changed the subject. "Everyone will celebrate us, Hobbes! They will build great statues for us in place of this torture chamber! Even the employees will cry out in great delight. I mean, who would want to work here?"

"Especially with you here." Hobbes rolled his eyes at him, and it was my turn to glare back.

"Just help me, okay?" I took off the lid of the gas container slowly, thanks to the difficulty of opening it. Hobbes helped me pour the gasoline around a bit, almost slipping several times as we traveled back to the doorway.

"Okay. Prepare yourself for a sight that will cause your eyes to implode with the beauty of it." I took a minute to image that image with pleasure, before slipping the matches out of my pocket. It took several tries with the first match before I broke it in half. Growling in frustration, I swiped the second match angrily. Perhaps too angrily.

Hobbes, who had been standing closely so as too not miss anything began to catch fire. I didn't notice as I hurried to the hallway before the match burned out. I threw it in. By pure luck, it didn't burn out by the time it landed on the ground. Bad luck, I suppose. It caught fire so much more quickly than I thought it would.

I kept moving backwards, step by step, more frightened now than excited. The fire was spreading so much faster than I had imaged, and the papers on the walls were turning black. That's when I felt the heat behind me.

"Hobbes!" I screamed. My best friend was rolling around, trying to stop the flames that were consuming him. I jumped him on him, not caring, or more likely not knowing, how dangerous what I was doing was. I caught fire so quickly.

All I could hear were my screams. If I had ever been clear-minded I might have thought of the Stop Drop and Roll rule they tried nailing into our brains each year. But, I was anything but clear-minded. So I lay there, with the scent of burnt flesh greeting my nostrils.

I never saw Hobbes again. If a genie came out of a lamp I wouldn't wish my arms back to normal. I wouldn't wish the elementary school back. I wouldn't even wish the tears out of Susie's eyes.

I would wish Hobbes back.