The Kitchen

You can smell the cake as you enter the warm kitchen, that magical producer of foods your evil parents won’t usually let you eat. You can tell a food’s desirability by their unwillingness to let you try it. And the cake is currently the king of desirable foods.

The hints of its creation are all over the place. The heat pouring from the oven. The bins of flour and bottles of flavors on the counters. Bowls and spoons and measuring cups galore. You know it’s up there. It must be.

Using your amazing baby strength, you push a chair across the tiled kitchen floor and against the counter. It slams loudly and you wince, glancing back down the hall to where your mother is sleeping. Nothing. You breathe a sigh of relief and clamber up onto the chair, your fat legs straining.

You stand over the edge of the counter, your pulse rising with anticipation, but your hopes are dashed. No cake. The makings of a cake, perhaps, but no cake.

There is, however, a bowl smeared with a particularly enticing shade of orange that just screams “natural and artificial flavors”. The frosting bowl. It must be. But you may not have long. Do you dare pause to lick the frosting bowl, knowing that your mother could wake at any moment?

If you settle for the bowl, click here.

If you continue the hunt in your parents’ bedroom, click here.

If you keep searching in the dining room, click here.

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