I will kill your cakes.

This damn thing lingers in my subconscious mind, festering like a parasite in a wound. I think I could get more sleep at night if I knew it was a simple Photoshop creation—but it’s quite real.

Oh, no, don’t get pissy with me, reader o’ mine. I know it isn’t real, like you and me; but it is a real cake, and that’s enough to scare the poop out of me. Who the hell makes a cake like that? What fevered mind designs such a beast for fun? I know you’re saying But Adam, good sir, perhaps this was meant to scare someone. I have to doubt that, considering the giant smile on this abomination’s face, but you are correct nonetheless—it does scare someone: me.

I might just design and bake a cake to defend all of my future cakes from this fiend. I don’t have any baking or cake expertise, however, so perhaps Duff Goldman and his Charm City Cakes peeps are a better option. I hope the store’s schedule is open because there is holy work to be done. Satan’s forces must be defeated!