Contributor: Jeff Harrison
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I got a red velvet cupcake the other day. I passed a bakery on my way to my girlfriend’s house and saw that they had them; my favorite. I opened the door to the bakery and was hit with an odd aroma of manure and WD-40. “I’d like a red velvet cupcake please,” I said to the proprietor, who was naked except for his apron.
“We only have one left,” he said, putting it in a bag for me. “How much?” “It’s on the house.” As I walked to my girlfriend’s, I heard a sound coming from the bag. Opening it, I saw that the cupcake was talking. “If you think you’re going to eat me you’ve got another thing coming, you little shit.” I found this most peculiar and took time to form just the right retort. “What the fuck!?” The cupcake sneered at me with what I realized were fangs. “If you try and eat me I’m gonna gnaw your face off. Comprende?”
I decided the best course of action would be to throw out the cupcake, which had obviously gone bad. “You can’t throw me out, dip shit, I was given to you and now you have to take care of me, that’s how it works.” He wasn’t a particularly cute cupcake. Aside from the fangs, he had yellow eyes and a raspy voice I couldn’t stand to listen to. I attempted to take the cupcake out of the paper bag, hoping to crumble him up, but he bit one of my pinkies off and there was quite a bit of blood. No one on the street seemed to notice and I didn’t see any reason to make a fuss about it either.
Realizing I couldn’t take the cupcake to my girlfriend’s house, I walked back home, engaging the cupcake in conversation. He said that his name was Dante, he was six years old and he had a cream-cheese based filling. When I got home, I automatically went to put Dante in the refrigerator. “What the hell are you doing!?
You trying to kill me? I’d freeze in there.” He told me that he wanted to sleep and to bring him to my bedroom. After I lay him on my bed and snuggled him with my comforter, I went to the kitchen to get a shot of bourbon. I needed a drink bad.
Before I could open the cabinet to get the bottle there was a knock at my door.
“It’s your girlfriend, open up.” She was fuming. “Where the hell have you been? I waited for you for over two hours.” I told her that I understood that she was upset and rightly so. We made up and started kissing. She wanted to go to the bedroom.
“What do you mean we can’t? Why the fuck not?” I couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t absurd. “You have bed bugs?” It was a long shot but I thought she might buy it. She didn’t. “Do you have another girl in there?” She ran to my bedroom and opened the door, flicking on the lights and shouting, “that’s my boyfriend you’re screwing, you skanky bitch!” This startled Dante and he woke up angry, lunging at my girlfriend, his fangs sticking out.
My girlfriend lay at my feet, the victim of a homicidal red velvet cupcake.
Dante had chewed up her neck like it was a pork loin. “She was tasty. You got anymore girlfriends I could nibble on?” Dante asked with a chuckle. After I paced back and forth for a few hours, Dante stated the obvious. “You can’t leave her here. You need to get rid of the body.” I said that I’d call the police on him and he told me to listen closely to what I was saying, making me laugh with high-strung nervousness. I asked him if he could eat her up and he reminded me that he was a four-ounce cupcake. I asked him if the man I bought him from would be able to help me and he said maybe, so I ran with Dante in the bag to the bakery. The man was still there, naked as a jaybird except for that apron. “Did the muffin kill someone?” he asked in a matter of fact tone. I told him yes, it had killed my girlfriend and I was now faced with the unseemly task of disposing of her body. He told me to bring her to the bakery when it got dark out so I went home to wait for the sun to go down.
When the time came for the removal of my girlfriend, she had begun to smell quite awful. This didn’t bother Dante because he didn’t have a nose. I picked her up and brought her to the bakery, bringing her into the back where the man was. “Put her here. Wow, that cupcake really messed your girl up.” The man was dressed in a shiny purple robe and wore a tall bakers hat on his head. The robe was undone and he was naked underneath. When I inquired why he was always naked he told me that he was a WD-40 nudist. I looked at him with disbelieving eyes and he continued. “A WD-40 nudist likes to keep his or her body well oiled, especially during intercourse. We feel that it makes everything more enjoyable and the smell is quite nice.” That settled that. He pulled my girlfriend into a circle he had made with manure, covering her in the smelly excrement. I began to think that this was all a bit odd and turned around to walk away. He told me to stay for a few more minutes so I did, curious as to what exactly he was up to.
The man began chanting in a weird language and after awhile the muffins began to hop around my dead girlfriend. This is interesting, I thought. What I saw next was pretty peculiar. Her body shriveled up and sunk into the manure and out of it grew a blueberry muffin. “There,” the man said, pleased with himself. “Now all we have to do is bake her for ten minutes at three hundred and fifty degrees and you can take her home.” Ten minutes later, my girlfriend came out of the oven. “Be careful around her. The baking brought her back to life but it also made her just like that red velvet cupcake that killed her. She will wake up in a few hours pretty pissed off. Can you blame her?” I walked home with Dante in one bag and my girlfriend in another. I was kind of depressed. I attempted to give Dante back to the man but he refused. My underhandedness angered Dante and when I tried to put my girlfriend in his bag, he bit my index finger off, laughing maniacally as the blood sprayed on him.
My girlfriend eventually came to. She was more than pissed. She yelled at me so loud that my neighbors called the police. “We received some complaints about you and a woman yelling at one another. Where is the woman? We’ll need to speak with her too.” I told them that she went to the store but they didn’t buy it. They noticed that two of my fingers were missing. “Those wounds look new. Did the lady do that?” I said that I had accidentally cut them off using a power saw. They started to walk around my apartment. Suddenly it hit me that I hadn’t cleaned up the blood in my bedroom from my girlfriend. She and Dante were on the counter, playing pastry. The one cop started walking towards the scene of the crime. The other cop had spotted the lone cupcake and muffin sitting side by side and walked up to them.
I guess he was hungry. He picked up my girlfriend and smelled her. “Mmm, blueberry.” He went to take a bite but before he could my girlfriend yelled at him.
“What the fuck!?” he exclaimed. “That’s a neat trick.” The other cop had heard him and came running into the room. “Hey, check this out. This muffin talks!” “Does the cupcake talk to?” the other officer asked me. Before I could tell him he had picked up Dante. “Put me down, fucker,” Dante said to the befuddled officer. The cops started laughing, softly at first, but then it quickly turned into hysterics. “Holy shit, we gotta call the guys to come check this out.” I pleaded with them not to but they refused to listen to me. I suddenly realized I had no alternative.
The baker was inside the shop, lathering himself with WD-40. “Back so soon? Don’t tell me the blueberry muffin killed someone now?” I explained to him that this time the blood was on my hands. “Bring them inside,” he said calmly. When I brought the first one in the man’s jaw dropped and he yelled at me. “Cops! You brought cops here?” I explained to him that I didn’t know what else to do and was hoping that maybe he could turn them into donuts or something. “It doesn’t work like that, kid. You’re on your own this time.” He kicked me out, dead bodies in tow, and shut the bakery up so that it looked as if it had been abandoned for years. It took me a few hours to get back home, since I was exhausted from hauling the two bodies across town the first time. “There you are, sweetie,” my girlfriend said as I locked the door behind me. I told her that I didn’t know what to do. Other police officers would soon be arriving, checking up on their friends. Dante told me that I had to make it looked like they died by accident. I asked him how and he told me to put the bodies in the police car and drive it off a cliff. “Get a bunch of cans of WD-40 and load the car with them. That’ll make sure it explodes and leaves no trace of the bodies.” I followed Dante’s instructions and it worked. The car made a huge explosion off of Teddy Bear ridge. After that, I lived a relatively normal life with my blueberry muffin girlfriend and our roommate, Dante, the red velvet cupcake. My girlfriend and I continued to have a great sex life and I eventually picked up a fetish for blueberries. I am not allowed to eat any other type of muffin though, or my girlfriend says she will get jealous and bite my dick off the next time she gives me a muffin job.
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I got a red velvet cupcake the other day. I passed a bakery on my way to my girlfriend’s house and saw that they had them; my favorite. I opened the door to the bakery and was hit with an odd aroma of manure and WD-40. “I’d like a red velvet cupcake please,” I said to the proprietor, who was naked except for his apron.
“We only have one left,” he said, putting it in a bag for me. “How much?” “It’s on the house.” As I walked to my girlfriend’s, I heard a sound coming from the bag. Opening it, I saw that the cupcake was talking. “If you think you’re going to eat me you’ve got another thing coming, you little shit.” I found this most peculiar and took time to form just the right retort. “What the fuck!?” The cupcake sneered at me with what I realized were fangs. “If you try and eat me I’m gonna gnaw your face off. Comprende?”
I decided the best course of action would be to throw out the cupcake, which had obviously gone bad. “You can’t throw me out, dip shit, I was given to you and now you have to take care of me, that’s how it works.” He wasn’t a particularly cute cupcake. Aside from the fangs, he had yellow eyes and a raspy voice I couldn’t stand to listen to. I attempted to take the cupcake out of the paper bag, hoping to crumble him up, but he bit one of my pinkies off and there was quite a bit of blood. No one on the street seemed to notice and I didn’t see any reason to make a fuss about it either.
Realizing I couldn’t take the cupcake to my girlfriend’s house, I walked back home, engaging the cupcake in conversation. He said that his name was Dante, he was six years old and he had a cream-cheese based filling. When I got home, I automatically went to put Dante in the refrigerator. “What the hell are you doing!?
You trying to kill me? I’d freeze in there.” He told me that he wanted to sleep and to bring him to my bedroom. After I lay him on my bed and snuggled him with my comforter, I went to the kitchen to get a shot of bourbon. I needed a drink bad.
Before I could open the cabinet to get the bottle there was a knock at my door.
“It’s your girlfriend, open up.” She was fuming. “Where the hell have you been? I waited for you for over two hours.” I told her that I understood that she was upset and rightly so. We made up and started kissing. She wanted to go to the bedroom.
“What do you mean we can’t? Why the fuck not?” I couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t absurd. “You have bed bugs?” It was a long shot but I thought she might buy it. She didn’t. “Do you have another girl in there?” She ran to my bedroom and opened the door, flicking on the lights and shouting, “that’s my boyfriend you’re screwing, you skanky bitch!” This startled Dante and he woke up angry, lunging at my girlfriend, his fangs sticking out.
My girlfriend lay at my feet, the victim of a homicidal red velvet cupcake.
Dante had chewed up her neck like it was a pork loin. “She was tasty. You got anymore girlfriends I could nibble on?” Dante asked with a chuckle. After I paced back and forth for a few hours, Dante stated the obvious. “You can’t leave her here. You need to get rid of the body.” I said that I’d call the police on him and he told me to listen closely to what I was saying, making me laugh with high-strung nervousness. I asked him if he could eat her up and he reminded me that he was a four-ounce cupcake. I asked him if the man I bought him from would be able to help me and he said maybe, so I ran with Dante in the bag to the bakery. The man was still there, naked as a jaybird except for that apron. “Did the muffin kill someone?” he asked in a matter of fact tone. I told him yes, it had killed my girlfriend and I was now faced with the unseemly task of disposing of her body. He told me to bring her to the bakery when it got dark out so I went home to wait for the sun to go down.
When the time came for the removal of my girlfriend, she had begun to smell quite awful. This didn’t bother Dante because he didn’t have a nose. I picked her up and brought her to the bakery, bringing her into the back where the man was. “Put her here. Wow, that cupcake really messed your girl up.” The man was dressed in a shiny purple robe and wore a tall bakers hat on his head. The robe was undone and he was naked underneath. When I inquired why he was always naked he told me that he was a WD-40 nudist. I looked at him with disbelieving eyes and he continued. “A WD-40 nudist likes to keep his or her body well oiled, especially during intercourse. We feel that it makes everything more enjoyable and the smell is quite nice.” That settled that. He pulled my girlfriend into a circle he had made with manure, covering her in the smelly excrement. I began to think that this was all a bit odd and turned around to walk away. He told me to stay for a few more minutes so I did, curious as to what exactly he was up to.
The man began chanting in a weird language and after awhile the muffins began to hop around my dead girlfriend. This is interesting, I thought. What I saw next was pretty peculiar. Her body shriveled up and sunk into the manure and out of it grew a blueberry muffin. “There,” the man said, pleased with himself. “Now all we have to do is bake her for ten minutes at three hundred and fifty degrees and you can take her home.” Ten minutes later, my girlfriend came out of the oven. “Be careful around her. The baking brought her back to life but it also made her just like that red velvet cupcake that killed her. She will wake up in a few hours pretty pissed off. Can you blame her?” I walked home with Dante in one bag and my girlfriend in another. I was kind of depressed. I attempted to give Dante back to the man but he refused. My underhandedness angered Dante and when I tried to put my girlfriend in his bag, he bit my index finger off, laughing maniacally as the blood sprayed on him.
My girlfriend eventually came to. She was more than pissed. She yelled at me so loud that my neighbors called the police. “We received some complaints about you and a woman yelling at one another. Where is the woman? We’ll need to speak with her too.” I told them that she went to the store but they didn’t buy it. They noticed that two of my fingers were missing. “Those wounds look new. Did the lady do that?” I said that I had accidentally cut them off using a power saw. They started to walk around my apartment. Suddenly it hit me that I hadn’t cleaned up the blood in my bedroom from my girlfriend. She and Dante were on the counter, playing pastry. The one cop started walking towards the scene of the crime. The other cop had spotted the lone cupcake and muffin sitting side by side and walked up to them.
I guess he was hungry. He picked up my girlfriend and smelled her. “Mmm, blueberry.” He went to take a bite but before he could my girlfriend yelled at him.
“What the fuck!?” he exclaimed. “That’s a neat trick.” The other cop had heard him and came running into the room. “Hey, check this out. This muffin talks!” “Does the cupcake talk to?” the other officer asked me. Before I could tell him he had picked up Dante. “Put me down, fucker,” Dante said to the befuddled officer. The cops started laughing, softly at first, but then it quickly turned into hysterics. “Holy shit, we gotta call the guys to come check this out.” I pleaded with them not to but they refused to listen to me. I suddenly realized I had no alternative.
The baker was inside the shop, lathering himself with WD-40. “Back so soon? Don’t tell me the blueberry muffin killed someone now?” I explained to him that this time the blood was on my hands. “Bring them inside,” he said calmly. When I brought the first one in the man’s jaw dropped and he yelled at me. “Cops! You brought cops here?” I explained to him that I didn’t know what else to do and was hoping that maybe he could turn them into donuts or something. “It doesn’t work like that, kid. You’re on your own this time.” He kicked me out, dead bodies in tow, and shut the bakery up so that it looked as if it had been abandoned for years. It took me a few hours to get back home, since I was exhausted from hauling the two bodies across town the first time. “There you are, sweetie,” my girlfriend said as I locked the door behind me. I told her that I didn’t know what to do. Other police officers would soon be arriving, checking up on their friends. Dante told me that I had to make it looked like they died by accident. I asked him how and he told me to put the bodies in the police car and drive it off a cliff. “Get a bunch of cans of WD-40 and load the car with them. That’ll make sure it explodes and leaves no trace of the bodies.” I followed Dante’s instructions and it worked. The car made a huge explosion off of Teddy Bear ridge. After that, I lived a relatively normal life with my blueberry muffin girlfriend and our roommate, Dante, the red velvet cupcake. My girlfriend and I continued to have a great sex life and I eventually picked up a fetish for blueberries. I am not allowed to eat any other type of muffin though, or my girlfriend says she will get jealous and bite my dick off the next time she gives me a muffin job.
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Author:
Jeff Harrison
I came across this quite by accident and I'm glad I did because it fucking rocked. Turn the cops to donuts! Ha! Great stuff.