Future Perfect

So I guess it's a crime to be hungry now, huh? I hear that everybody's laughing at me on account of my slipping up once--just once, mind you--when I happened upon that genie's lamp in the mysterious antiques shop I had never seen on this street before. And what, do you want me to pretend I don't mess up? Listen, I'll say it: I messed up and asked for macaroni and cheese. Who cares! Obviously, yes, I could have asked for much grander things. For example, world peace. Or a lifetime supply of macaroni and cheese. But it's not like I knew I'd be getting visited by a folkloric wish-giver ahead of time! And yes, before the peanut gallery chimes in, I was hungry enough that my speech slurred a little, just on a single consonant, so yes, the genie thought I asked for macaroni and bees, and I got stung a bunch of times while dry pasta pelted at my head from locations unseen. Well, sorry to disappoint you weirdos but I'm not allergic to bees! It maybe hurt a lot but at no point was I in any real peril. Oh, you're saying that makes this situation funnier? That you were, in fact, momentarily worried for my wellbeing, but the revelation that this hurt will ultimately pass has restored your capacity to laugh at my situation? You kiss your wife with that mouth? Frequently and with boundless mutual joy, you say? Real mature. You're lucky that I screwed up the other two wishes too.