[ WP ] A man wakes up one day to find that he had gained a superpower . The next day , he gains another , completely random and new superpower . This continues everyday . At first , everything seems fine , even awesome . Until his randomly generated superpowers started to conflict with each other ...

Right, using that link, first thing I got was mediumship. So here goes. 
 
 `` Rishi. Do n't walk through that puddle.'' 
 The whisper came from nowhere, spooking me like anything. Who had just spoken? The whisper sounded just like my Mom but, that's impossible. That's....That is impossible. Why, you ask? Because she is **DEAD**. Gone from the face of the Earth, cremated two years ago. I bawled my eyes out on her death. I'll never forget that day. So, how is she telling me, in her gentle but no nonsense voice, not to walk through that puddle? I stop, look around. Nothing. Perhaps it had just been my imagination. I *had* been thinking of her and how she would tell me to not jump into the puddle if she were here. However, I walk around the puddle. Superstitious? Maybe. 
 I get home at 3 in the afternoon. The maid has already left. Dad will be home late today. I am supposed to study, since we have an English Lit test tomorrow. I am racking my brain to come up with an interpretation of `` Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening'' that has n't been thought of already. 
 > > Whose woods these are, I think I know. 
 His house is in the village, though. 
 
 
 I was just thinking of some pretentious stuff about man and how he ignores the beauty of nature for the crass materialism of society when a slight cough interrupted me. 
 `` Who is that? `` I raise my voice. 
 `` No one dear boy, no one.'' 
 I froze. Slowly, I turned my head. The room was empty. I rose from my chair with a shriek. 
 `` Oh calm down, will you. I am inside your head and, that shriek makes my head hurt.'' 
 I must be going mad. 
 `` No, dear boy, you are n't bonkers yet. Let me introduce myself, since you had to raise me from my slumber anyway. Robert Frost at your service.'' 
 `` Who.....what?'' I whisper. 
 `` Robert Frost. The guy whose poems you were just being so pretentiously critical about? That's me.'' 
 `` I... that's impossible. `` I mutter. 
 `` Right? I thought so, too. Turns out you can call dead people into your head and converse with them. I tell you, the crazy powers kids nowadays have. Anyway, you could have called Bill or that old fart, Tennyson. Why me? And just in time for my afternoon nap. Now, what do you want to know?'' 
 Okay, I thought. This is fun. Maybe I am schizophrenic. So what? As long as I did n't have access to axes, it's not like these conversations in my head are hurting people. On the other hand, maybe crazy me could put a new spin on things. 
 `` So, Mr.Frost, what did you mean when you wrote the entire wood's owner lives in the village thing?'' 
 `` Oh that. That's easy. I was boning this guy's wife and thought it'd be cool to write a poem about it. Did no one catch on to the snow falling in the woods part?'' 
 `` No. What?'' 
 `` You see,'' he began to explain,'' Snow is white and....'' 
 `` Yeah, I got that.'' Geez, I thought. Crazy me is even more perverted than real me. 
 `` Hey!'' Frost cried. `` Who are you calling perverted? I know about those tissues, you know. I *am* in your mind'' 
 
 I'll try to think up a story about helium manipulation and post it. Seriously, though, fuck that link for choosing helium manipulation. Fuck. That. Link.
