The year is 2042. The air is thick with the scent of desperation and stale potato chips. The once-proud aisle of the supermarket, brimming with tempting treats, now resembles a graveyard of empty promises. Gone are the days of generous portions and satisfying crunches. In their place, a parade of miniature packets, each containing a mere whisper of the snack they once held.
It all started innocently enough. A whisper of a price increase, a slight reduction in the weight of a chocolate bar. ‘Higher production costs,’ the manufacturers sighed, their eyes filled with crocodile tears. The public, ever trusting, accepted these minor adjustments. After all, who could argue with the rising cost of cocoa beans or the ever-increasing price of potatoes?
But the shrinkflation, as they called it, was relentless. The chocolate bar became a wafer-thin sliver, the bag of crisps a mere handful, the biscuit packet a ghost of its former self. The manufacturers, meanwhile, grew ever bolder, their pockets overflowing with the profits of their ingenious scheme.
The public, however, was not entirely oblivious. Whispers of discontent began to circulate. ‘This isn’t a chocolate bar, it’s a postage stamp!’ cried one disgruntled customer. ‘They’re selling us air!’ roared another, holding up an empty crisp packet, the faintest trace of salt clinging to the inside.
The manufacturers, however, remained unfazed. They simply adjusted their marketing strategies, employing clever packaging and misleading images to convince the public that they were still getting a good deal.
And then, the unthinkable occurred. The final stage of the Great Shrinkage. The manufacturers, with a collective wink and a knowing smile, presented the public with…empty wrappers.
‘The ultimate cost-saving measure,’ they declared, their voices dripping with mock sincerity. ‘We’ve eliminated the need for ingredients altogether, thus significantly reducing our production costs!’
The public, by this point, had grown weary of the charade. They stared at the empty wrappers, their faces a mixture of anger and disbelief. The once-loved snacks had become a cruel joke, a symbol of the manufacturers’ insatiable greed.
As the sun set on the supermarket aisle, casting long shadows on the empty wrappers, a single, defiant voice echoed through the silent store: ‘We’re not buying it!’
It was the beginning of the end. The Great Shrinkage, a testament to the relentless pursuit of profit, had finally reached its absurd conclusion. The public, finally awakened to the manufacturers’ deceit, would no longer be fooled by empty promises and inflated prices. The age of the empty wrapper was over. It was time for a new era, one where value and honesty reigned supreme.
Worldwide Temple of Aurora 