Faced with the tempting delight of 30,589 calories per day, luxuriously and generously sprinkled with edible pink glitter, I am faced with a real dilemma.
Does wanton consumption of raw sugar suggest my own willpower-weakness or my lack of resolve? Surely not. I could not accept any fault, blame, blemish, or imperfect stain upon myself.
It can be only one thing.
Dorothy and the ladies at the WI cake stall are undercover, merely posing as old ladies who enjoy making glitter cup cakes and selling them to each other down at the town community centre.
Really, they are evil, double-crossing conspirators, fuelled to madness, jealousy, and vengeance, plotting to destroy my petite, delicious body, and turn it into Size 24 by next Tuesday. They are conjuring with my mind, playing games with pink icing, and forcing me by spooky psychosis to buy and consume their cakes.
My daughter Shark is in on the plot. She has knocked out 36 almond biscuits, spread them out before me, and so far, I can tell you that 24 of them have been delicious.
(Thanks, Sam Brick.)
No comments:
Post a Comment