As soon as I saw that cake I knew I had to have it. I was buzzing that day and nobody was going to stop me. The walnuts on the fudge topping did it.
I forced rum down Old Ma Baker’s throat behind the burger van until she retched but she still wouldn’t tell me. Finally I had to threaten her at gunpoint during the lunchtime lull and take the bloody thing.
It must have weighed 3 pounds 12½ ounces before I took a bite.
I’d been fooled again. It wasn’t fudge, it was coffee. I hated coffee icing.
I went back and threw it down onto the cake stall, bitemarks and all. Why was that old witch grinning at me? I was gonna go nuts. I could feel it rising.
FUDGE, I shouted.
A spasm shot through me – convulsions.
I understood then. Old Ma Baker had outwitted me.
Written for Flash Fiction challenge #19 in which we are invited to choose a quote and write a piece inspired by it.
I chose this……
I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they’ve always worked for me.
Hunter S. Thompson