Congratulations Cake Monster!

Cakes have been oppressed for thousands of generations (since a generation of cakes is like, a month, this isn’t as long as it sounds). They’ve dreamed their whole lives of something better (again, a cake’s life is like, a month at best), an existence where they can do more than simply be devoured, an existence where they can find love, settle down and live out their (month long) lives in peace raising families with more options than just being devoured.

But cakes haven’t had a lot of say in the matter. They are, after all, fucking cakes. So really, who’s going to listen to them?

Everyone after tomorrow, when you, a horrible monster disguised as a cake, reveal yourself by devouring the entire population in attendance of the Steinberg-Katowitz wedding. The day will be flawless, the ceremony will go off without a hitch, right up until you sprout arms and begin devouring guests left and right, starting with the bride and groom. There will be no survivors.

This will usher in a period of cooperation with cakes the world over, as we endeavor to cooperate with cakes so as to avoid future encounters with Cake Monsters such as yourself as a species. This plan will last for roughly a month and a half, until you turn stale and die and all the cakes who had all these dreams also die and their memory is buried like so many crumbs under an infinite field of picnic tables.

Congratulations Cake Monster!

Congratulations on Baking A Cake!

It’s your little girl’s sixth birthday and today you’re going to bake her a cake. Unfortunately you specialized in erotic cake-craft during your time in culinary arts school and, as a result, have to concentrate intensely to make a cake that doesn’t look like a set of breasts or a penis or a man and a woman having sex. And for those without children it can be very difficult to concentrate during the time immediately surrounding your spawn’s birth celebration.

So it’ll come as absolutely no surprise when you open the oven to see a smiling cartoon penis staring back at you. You’ll consider driving to Carvel and purchasing a new store bought cake for your little girl, then decide against it after you recall the sheer amount you’ve had to drink over the last four hours and the fact that you can’t remember if Carvel is still in business.

After a lengthy period of internal monologue and deliberation you’ll just decide to fuck it and talk to your daughter about human sexuality, art, and how objects are just objects while eating some of the most delicious yellow food cake shaped into a penis that anyone will have ever crammed down their gullets.

It will be a tremendous hit.

Congratulations on Baking A Cake!