Once a century, the universe grants one wish, to one person, one time. You are dying and it's your last moments of life. You get honored with this one wish, the responsibility of a century. This can’t be real, you say to yourself. You wish for a cake, it appears in front of you. You grab it in disbelief. You think of yourself as a god that can manifest anything. The world is your playground you proclaim. You wish again, first to live forever, then to be a billionaire. Neither work. You lie on your deathbed confused. The thought occurs to you that I just wasted your one wish for anything on a cake. Oh the face you must have been making. You die and so do your dreams of immortality and infinite money, but at least you have your cake.