The Mealennial Mogul

At just 20 years old, Chester B. Crumplefig had done what no one thought possible—he invented the CenturiMeal™, the world’s first shelf-stable, pre-packaged food guaranteed to last 100 years. “Guaranteed” being a generous term, as the testing process involved a single burrito left on a windowsill for a month and a lot of wishful thinking.

The product launch was a wild success. Prepper forums exploded. Boomers panic-bought pallets. Tech bros called it “the Soylent of the apocalypse.” Chester rode this beige-colored gravy train all the way to billionaire status.

But Chester wasn’t satisfied just being rich. No, Chester wanted to prove that his meals were not only durable—but delicious. So, during a livestream from his newly built fortress-mansion in Montana (named “Mealifornia”), Chester made a bold announcement:

“From this day forward, I will consume only CenturiMeals. No pizza. No tacos. Not even a rogue celery stick. Just vacuum-sealed, flavor-sequestered, age-defiant meals of my own design.”

To prove his commitment, Chester filled a giant warehouse-sized pantry with 80 years' worth of CenturiMeals—each shelf labeled by decade:
2025–2035: Spaghetti Phase
2035–2045: Experimental Sushi Burrito Years
2045–2055: Sad Beige Casserole Era
And so on.

Chester streamed every meal on his channel, "Crumbs of the Future." His following grew. Millions watched him peel open pouches and pretend to enjoy his Tuesday Meat-Like Medallions in Gravy.

But over time, cracks appeared.

By year two, Chester had developed a condition he called Flavor Despair Syndrome. He began hosting live “meal unboxings” with a thousand-yard stare and a catchphrase:

“Let’s see what the future tastes like today... oh… huh… mushy.”

By year four, his skin took on the color of canned chowder. His hair smelled faintly of dehydrated lentils.

By year ten, he was conducting flavor therapy sessions with AI chatbots just to cope.

But he refused to quit.

“The product is perfect,” he insisted through clenched teeth and a mouthful of century-safe creamed cod. “The human spirit is weak!”

Finally, on his 30th birthday, Chester gathered his followers for a dramatic broadcast.

He sat on a throne made of meal crates, opened a pouch labeled "Birthday Surprise #1 (2045 Edition)," took one bite, and said:

“Okay, I admit it. This one tastes like old gym socks soaked in hope.”

He paused.

“But dammit, I invented those gym socks. And they’ll still taste like this in 2095.”

And with that, he took another bite, a single tear running down his cheek.

CenturiMeal stock doubled.

Elon Musk tweeted, “Legend.”

And Chester? He dug into his Century Cake (vanilla-ish, shelf-stable for 99.7 years) and whispered to himself,

“Only 70 more years of this to go…”