To the (Mister’s) client who provided me with a box of pleasure (stop it you sickos, this is clearly a dessert we’re talking about),
I hate your guts.
I was doing juuuuuust fine without knowing about the flaky, sugary treats filled to the brim with decadent cream filling. Just fine. Now they’re all I think about. They consume my every thought, every wish, every desire. At least you were courteous enough to give me two of them, which I ate in one sitting, licking my fingers clean and praying the Mister wouldn’t ask for “one bite” (which is really more like a giant gobble). I tried to eat them slowly, to savor every sweet bite, but the deliciousness consumed me, turning me into a monster who could only be stopped by cream filling.
If you know what’s good for you, you’ll provide me with another (unmarked- we don’t need people knowing my secret) box filled to the brim with the cream-filled delights. Until then, I shall curse your name and rue the day you ever showed me what I’ve been missing.
Also — in case you haven’t heard, I’m a pretty big fan of cupcakes. Just sayin’
