Canine experts suggest asserting dominance by firmly holding the dog’s torso to the ground until it calms down and stops trying to run. The same principle applies to babies.
Keep some spare flares in the trunk of your car in case you are unexpectedly invited to a rave.
For years, we at Kelly’s Bakery have loved bringing Seattle delicious cupcakes for all occasions. And through all those years, there’s one question we’ve been asked more than any other: “What’s the secret to making such delicious cupcakes?”
Well, there are a lot of things that go into making our special cupcakes: a top-notch, worker-friendly kitchen; quality, FDA-approved organic ingredients; and, yes, a bit of passion-driven culinary genius. But what really makes our cupcakes the best in Seattle? That’s easy: demonic rituals.
Every cupcake Kelly’s sells is made that day. As you can imagine, that means work has to start early. The first employees arrive at 4:00 AM to start heating up the ovens, making the batter and icing, and – most importantly – begin draining the blood of a new-born lamb to summon Likkn’ath, Master of the Eternal Flame. This all might sound like it could be done in 30 minutes, but in reality, it takes two and a half hours. That’s because we allow extra time to make sure the consistency of the icing is absolutely perfect – and also because if you drain a lamb’s blood too quickly, it’ll die before you can finish reciting the Rites of Fellora, which must be chanted in their entirety to ensure our cupcakes are at their moistest.
Once the batter is mixed and the ovens are hot, it’s time to start baking. Our regular cupcakes are made 240 at a time in our five commercial ovens, but the deluxe cupcakes have to be made seven at a time in our specially-made brick oven, which is large enough that we can burn one of our competitors alive inside of it as an offering to Zelok, Demoness of Rivalry and Envy.
From there, the cupcakes go to the decorators. Each kind takes a different amount of time to be iced and decorated. For example, our peanut-butter bombs take only twenty seconds to receive their regular coating of chocolate icing, while our spring special, the honeycombcakes, take five minutes to receive their signature hexagonal pattern, along with their sugary bee toppers. And then there’s the salted caramel – it requires a whole fifteen minutes to be annointed in the tears of a worker who has betrayed Likkn’ath as the traitor is tortured over his former cooling rack.
Finally, there’s the moment the cupcake is eaten. Cake, creamy filling, icing, sprinkles, and the powers of darkness combine to make the perfect culinary experience in one’s mouth, but the real magic happens in the back room. There, several Kelly’s acolytes form a circle around a young male virgin and perform a ritual to transport him to the gates of Hell itself, all so that the lucky customer in the next room can experience a moment of pure ecstasy as they bite into one of our delicious desserts.
Yes, cupcake-lovers, it’s true: making the best cupcakes in Seattle doesn’t come easy. There’s a lot of hard work, devotion, and sacrifice involved. But in the end, when I see the satisfaction we bring our customers, I know all the blood, sweat, and tears are worth it. Whoever’s they are.
In 1990, the Australian rock band Divinyls released their hit single “I Touch Myself,” best known for the chorus, “I don’t want anybody else/When I think about you I touch myself.” Monogamy must be interpreted much more narrowly in Australia.
“I didn’t know that ants ever ate people! Oh God, the pain! All I wanted to do was share my life experiences with the world and instead I’m literally being eaten alive by ants.”
“If they continue to gnaw on my fingers, I may not be able to type and I’ll never be able to finish writing this book.”
“I think they’re secreting some kind of acid back into the bite wounds because it stings horribly. It feels like I rubbed up against a cheese grater and then went swimming in lemon juice.”
“I’m pretty sure this isn’t covered by my renter’s insurance.”
“I want to call a pest company but I don’t think they could come before the ants finish devouring the rest of my body. Holy hell, they’re eating my phone now so I couldn’t call even if it would help! These wretched insects are unstoppable.”
“Phew, thank God those horrible ants went away. I don’t know how or why they came nor what made them leave and I frankly don’t care. Now I can tell the world about my life. I grew up in New Jersey. Before you made some wisecrack about Snooki and The Situation, I feel obliged to say that I’m from a very nice town (over an hour from the Shore, I might add). It was quiet and not exactly ‘happening,’ but it was just right for me and shaped my into the pers–what the??!!?–They’re back! My precious flesh! They’re eating what’s left of it!”
Whenever I hear the lyrics “He led them down the streets of town, right to the traffic cop; / And he only paused a moment when he heard him holler, ‘Stop!'” I always find myself thinking that the song “Frosty the Snowman” must have been a PSA about crossing the street that was changed to be a children’s song at the last moment.
When someone confuses metaphor with semaphore, it’s a red flag.
PUT IT ALL ON RED 