cake

Word play

I am going to do a little word association.

Diary, dairy

Now, diary is something you write. You keep it at home, in a private spot, because you don’t want the kids to read about your awkward childhood boners. Now, when you write the diary, you tend to eat dairy (admit the fact that you never saw that coming). Some of you disgusting people, I assume, like to write while drinking tea, or eating cheese. Some of you take it a step further and write things on top of cakes. You should be eliminated.

By now, it should be clear that I have no clue what I am talking about nor do I know anything about the English language. With that, I wish you a safe pandy, and a bright future.

Unpleasant surprises

I love cake. Just, all types of cake. So today, I was eating this nice lemon cake. Real soft and smooth, just like my face after a clean shave(holy shit! I just said that). Any way, so I was eating this cake and all of a sudden, disaster strikes. As I’m biting, I feel something not so soft in the cake. I take it out and I see a fucking eggshell. A fucking eggshell in my cake. This is where it gets weird. I’m feeling kind of happy now because now I know they are using real eggs to make the cake, but another part of me goes, “I just bit into an eggshell”. I mean, that’s not cool dude. It doesn’t feel good. It’s like, you develop trust issues with cake. Imagine you’re sitting in a movie theater, watching an awesome movie. When something important is about to happen, the person sitting next to you suddenly pukes all over the place, like, she sprays it like a fire extinguisher. What are you gonna do? You continue to watch the movie but it just doesn’t feel the same with the puke smell. That’s how you feel after biting into an eggshell while eating cake.

Addiction

15 years ago one Friday evening I realised that I’m addicted to cake. I came home from school, opened the fridge and to my surprise, there was a giant, round pineapple cake just sitting there as if the universe had sent it to me. Back then, my interest in eating cakes was no greater than prof. Stephen Hawking’s interest in watching the Kardashians. I would try one small piece out of curiosity and regret it immediately. But times change, people change (Not my boss though. That motherfucker takes the Lady Gaga song, ‘born this way’ waaaay too seriously).

One slice and that was it. I was hooked. From that day on, I ate one slice everyday after dinner. I fell into an endless spiral of depression after I had the last slice. My mom thought I was losing my mind. I was underweight at the time. I tried a different cake but it just wasn’t the same. But soon I forgot about cake. Fast forward a few years. Sister comes home one day with something called a ‘Mousse cake’. It was like instinct. After locking my sibling in the kitchen I went to a corner of the house and ate the whole thing.

I lost my train of thought. How do I end this? How about a neat rhyme from the 90’s?