How about intermittent eternal life? Like, peek in every few years and see what’s happening, go back to sleep for a few millennia if there’s nothing interesting going on.

Kinda like God does now.

“Many long for immortality who do not know what to do with themselves on a lazy Sunday afternoon.”

Because frankly I’m tired of humanity after just 30 years. After a couple hundred, I’d definitely need to spend a few decades living in the woods.

Then I remembered Baba Yaga. It would be almost way cooler to live in a house that moved around on chicken legs. So maybe if she retired, I could be the fill-in Baba Yaga and hand it off to someone when I became weary of immortality.

Or any combination of the two thereof. It might be fun to have a Venus face and then open my mouth and scare the crap out of people with my iron teeth.

Take the internal defibralator that’s inside me now, convert it into a micro atomic force-field generator and I’m set. Y’all can’t touch me, naaa-yaaa yaa yaa-naa.

But I can touch you. Owing to a long-standing grudge held against a former boss and stating that I am a pacifist at heart, I can promise a pie in the face IN PUBLIC for all you who deserve it. Starting with you, “Jack the boss” who treated me so poorly.

I’ll be followed by a smallish servant who’ll provide Tidy-Wipes for the target, for cleaning.

I have a better one now. I think I’d also go the wizard route, omitting the part where I’m a cranky old man for a millennium. Or bald. The catch would be that I’d be immortal until I fulfilled some really important quest or other, and then I’d lost my power and start to age like anyone else (sort of like a mix of Schmendrick and Ged). So it’s a catch-22: use superpowers to save the world, knowing that success means losing them and dying. So it’d be a relief but also a real loss in the end. In the meantime, things like shooting bees out of my hands at my enemies would be no problem.

There’s always the Kurzweilian route: just hang out and wait for the inevitable. Live forever by living for the next few decades. That does take a little sparkle out of it, though: sure, you’re immortal, but so is that asshole down the block.

If that wouldn’t count then I’d want it to be a pact with God that was some sort of ironic punishment for trying and failing to kill myself a whole bunch of times. My weakness, what would remove my immortality, would be incredible wealth. As soon as I became stinking rich I was just as mortal as the next guy.

And like the anti-Santa, I would also keep a list of who had been naughty and nice, and I would make sure I spent quality time with those who deserved it.

My magic power would be to come an go at will, and to invoke an unreasonable sense of dread in all those around me.

My weakness would be that one day, people would stop fearing me.

Which, fortunately for me, will never happen.

>>My other power would be that cats would naturally like me. That just seems useful for a boogieman.<<