El Chavo stood up. He walked through the gold coins, past the robotic bowing neighbors, and placed his small hand on Kabillion's shimmering sleeve.

When Chavo cried, Kabillion made the stars shine a little brighter through the cracks in the roof. When Don Ramón sighed, Kabillion made the wind carry the smell of fresh bread from a distant bakery. When Quico bragged, Kabillion made a nearby frog ribbit exactly on cue, making everyone laugh.

"I have traveled the multiverse," Kabillion whispered, his voice now a gentle hum. "I have seen supernovas and singularities. But I have never seen anyone turn one tortilla into a feast."

Chavo looked up, his big eyes reflecting the chaotic glow. "Because, uhm… I already have a wish."

"What is this?" the god asked.

Quico, ever brave behind his mother's shadow, poked his head out. "What’s a Kabillion? Is it bigger than a million?"

Kabillion's face-screen flickered. "THAT IS EIGHT WISHES. PLUS A TACO."

Don Ramón rubbed his head. Quico picked up a single, remaining ball. Doña Florinda, exhausted, handed El Chavo a leftover tortilla.