Death by cake.

This is a tale of woe, a story that is distressing for me just to tell, so please bear with me one second whilst I pull myself together…

It was a sunny day in Blackpool, the birds were singing and the sun was shining, I was casually strolling to work with the world at my feet, ready to begin the day. In reality I was very hungover and having an inner debate regarding bad choices made the night before but then happiness struck me: I saw a Millie’s Cookies. Yes I do eat my feelings, I am my favourite person to treat and did in fact purchase four mini cake bites all for myself. So sue me. At this point I’d like you to understand my emotional attachment to these cakes, they were the only positive point in an otherwise less than mediocre day. 

For the next part of our tale we switch locations: the work locker room. On this day I was unfortunately sharing mine with two girls which led to a significant downturn in my mood. I hate sharing, I’m a selfish human being and don’t give a shit. Anyway, much later in the day the girls I was sharing with finished work and trotted home, leaving me and my cakes alone in my locker for some intimate time. Unfortunately, after they’d gone I checked my locker and all of my cakes were squashed, it was a bloodbath: butter cream icing and sprinkles everywhere, I shed a small tear but didn’t think too much of it: accidents happen. 

The plot thickens: this evening I was informed that one of the girls who was sharing my locker that fateful day purposefully destroyed my cakes in one cold-hearted, swift move. What a mark of a persons character: that they’d purposefully ruin my happiness and my delicious cake bites simply for their own amusement. Life lessons learnt from today: trust no-one, people are inherently cruel and always eat your cake before potential for sabotage occurs. If anyone has  any tips for revenge please let me know, my only ideas thus far are putting a cake on her chair so she gets butter cream icing on her arse and giving her a dirty look. 

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3 responses to “Death by cake.

  1. She’s an ass. I have a good idea for revenge, even though I’m too much of a scaredy cat to ever do that and haven’t tested it, anyway, put laxatives in her drink. I know this sounds a lot like a date rape, but hey. She’ll just get an hour or two all to herself to think about what she did.

    Gosh I feel evil.

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  2. I’m a bit of an evil mastermind, so I’d probably take it a step further than that, even.
    Ahem:
    Step 1: Replace everything you can with frosting. I’m talking glue, handwash, brake line fluid; you name it. And this’ll just be… the icing on the cake (HAHA, SEE WHAT I DID THERE!? Ah, I’m quite a hoot, you must admit.)
    Step 2: In fact, go ahead and just break into her house (feel free to get creative, and use a fruit cake to smash one of the windows to get in), and squish everything in her fridge. If she happens to have a watermelon in there, feel free to cut up the watermelon first, and THEN squish it. Also, take some unsquished pieces home for snack times (how’s she going to be able to tell the difference anyways, once the rest of it is all squished up? Really.)
    Step 3: Stick a potato in her exhaust pipe; just for fun.

    That’ll teach that sabotaging, happiness-sucker a lesson! She’ll never touch your cakes again, I can almost guarantee it.
    She’ll probably also have vivid nightmares of being attacked by mini cakes for the rest of her life, but ahhhh well. There are certain things we really can’t control, aren’t there? Indeed.

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  3. Thanks for your suggestions! Unfortunately I am far too chicken to follow through on any of them but she did get sacked without me having to do anythiing. HAHA. A hollow victory but a victory none the less and one which comes without feelings of guilt.

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