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Strippers convulsed and gyrated around Ted as he lapped up his last few hours of bachelorhood; savouring every second before he tied the knot tomorrow with Carol from the chip shop. His friends promised him one hell of a bachelor party and that is exactly what they’d provided. They’d hired the back room of the local pub, the Dog and Duck, a live band, an array of sexy strippers and invited all of his old friends. However there was one face in the crowd that Ted didn’t recognise; that of an elderly man with a wispy white beard and fluffy white nasal hair that looked as if he had a roll of cotton wool jammed up each nostril.
Ted pushed the two delightfully naked strippers off his lap and manoeuvred across the room to confront this elderly gatecrasher.
“Excuse me” Ted said in his sternest voice “May I ask who you are?”
“You may” replied the old man, grooming crumbs from his beard
After a short painful pause Ted prompted the old man who seemed to be falling asleep,
“Well, who are you then?”
“I am the one” the old man spluttered “Who made this wonderful cake for your party”
The old man motioned with a bony hand to his right where a elegantly crafted cake towered high above the sausages on sticks and salsa dips on the buffet table.
“Wow” gasped Ted “That’s beautiful!”
“Yes” nodded the old man
“What sort of cake is it?” questioned Ted in a hungry tone
“Cheesecake” replied the old man in a cold voice “But do not be deceived by it’s beautiful creamy exterior as the cake bears a terrible secret. A secret so foul that only the pure of heart are able to discover it.
Ted frowned at the old man before walking steadily over to the buffet table to face the cheesecake and attempt to reveal it’s terrible secret. He pulled a knife and one of those triangular cake cutter things from his belt and set to work. He began at the top with the knife and started to cut through the soft creamy icing and moist spongy filling. After a few seconds of carving the cake he was alarmed by a noise coming from the cake. “Ouch” it yelled “Stop that!”
“By God!” Ted exclaimed “the cake is alive!”
Now he understood what the crazy old cotton-wool-nosed man was talking about, the cake was evil and probably racist too. Ted slashed and gashed and mashed the cake with knives and fists and the little sharp cocktail sticks pulled from the party sausages. The cake kept screaming and yelping and bleeding and Ted was resilient in his attempt to flout the pleas of “stop” and “it’s hurting” from the malevolent cheesecake.
After the cutting, thrashing and screaming subsided and Ted dropped the triangular cake cutter thing and wiped a blob of frosting from his cheek. A slow clap was started and Ted, with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, wondered why everyone was being so patronising. He realised, however, what the kafuffle was about when a dead stripper fell from the cake with a glazed over look in her eyes, lacerations all over her body and several cocktail sticks jammed in her face.
Ted pushed the two delightfully naked strippers off his lap and manoeuvred across the room to confront this elderly gatecrasher.
“Excuse me” Ted said in his sternest voice “May I ask who you are?”
“You may” replied the old man, grooming crumbs from his beard
After a short painful pause Ted prompted the old man who seemed to be falling asleep,
“Well, who are you then?”
“I am the one” the old man spluttered “Who made this wonderful cake for your party”
The old man motioned with a bony hand to his right where a elegantly crafted cake towered high above the sausages on sticks and salsa dips on the buffet table.
“Wow” gasped Ted “That’s beautiful!”
“Yes” nodded the old man
“What sort of cake is it?” questioned Ted in a hungry tone
“Cheesecake” replied the old man in a cold voice “But do not be deceived by it’s beautiful creamy exterior as the cake bears a terrible secret. A secret so foul that only the pure of heart are able to discover it.
Ted frowned at the old man before walking steadily over to the buffet table to face the cheesecake and attempt to reveal it’s terrible secret. He pulled a knife and one of those triangular cake cutter things from his belt and set to work. He began at the top with the knife and started to cut through the soft creamy icing and moist spongy filling. After a few seconds of carving the cake he was alarmed by a noise coming from the cake. “Ouch” it yelled “Stop that!”
“By God!” Ted exclaimed “the cake is alive!”
Now he understood what the crazy old cotton-wool-nosed man was talking about, the cake was evil and probably racist too. Ted slashed and gashed and mashed the cake with knives and fists and the little sharp cocktail sticks pulled from the party sausages. The cake kept screaming and yelping and bleeding and Ted was resilient in his attempt to flout the pleas of “stop” and “it’s hurting” from the malevolent cheesecake.
After the cutting, thrashing and screaming subsided and Ted dropped the triangular cake cutter thing and wiped a blob of frosting from his cheek. A slow clap was started and Ted, with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, wondered why everyone was being so patronising. He realised, however, what the kafuffle was about when a dead stripper fell from the cake with a glazed over look in her eyes, lacerations all over her body and several cocktail sticks jammed in her face.
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I didnt proof read it because I'm hardcore.
took you a while didn't it?!
it's alright, definitely a competitor. mines a bit more serious than this in some ways, but i won't put it out until mid week.
quite a few grammatical errors and such, from a pedant's point of view.
"an elegant", "pleas", etc.
it's alright, definitely a competitor. mines a bit more serious than this in some ways, but i won't put it out until mid week.
quite a few grammatical errors and such, from a pedant's point of view.
"an elegant", "pleas", etc.
Wow, brilliant idea.
Not much more to say really..
Not much more to say really..
It was alright.
"But do not be deceived by it’s beautiful creamy exterior as the cake bears a terrible secret."
I read that in the Scottish bloke from Little Britain's voice.
"But do not be deceived by it’s beautiful creamy exterior as the cake bears a terrible secret."
I read that in the Scottish bloke from Little Britain's voice.
No time wasted here, then eh Paradox?
Strippers convulsed and gyrated around Ted as he lapped up his last few hours of bachelorhood; savouring every second before he tied the knot tomorrow with Carol from the chip shop. His friends promised him one hell of a bachelor party and that is exactly what they’d provided. They’d hired the back room of the local pub, the Dog and Duck, a live band, an array of sexy strippers and invited all of his old friends. However there was one face in the crowd that Ted didn’t recognise; that of an elderly man with a wispy white beard and fluffy white nasal hair that looked as if he had a roll of cotton wool jammed up each nostril.
Ted pushed the two delightfully naked strippers off his lap and manoeuvred across the room to confront this elderly gatecrasher.
“Excuse me” Ted said in his sternest voice “May I ask who you are?”
“You may” replied the old man, grooming crumbs from his beard
After a short painful pause Ted prompted the old man who seemed to be falling asleep,
“Well, who are you then?”
“I am the one” the old man spluttered “Who made this wonderful cake for your party”
The old man motioned with a bony hand to his right where a elegantly crafted cake towered high above the sausages on sticks and salsa dips on the buffet table.
“Wow” gasped Ted “That’s beautiful!”
“Yes” nodded the old man
“What sort of cake is it?” questioned Ted in a hungry tone
“Cheesecake” replied the old man in a cold voice “But do not be deceived by it’s beautiful creamy exterior as the cake bears a terrible secret. A secret so foul that only the pure of heart are able to discover it.
Ted frowned at the old man before walking steadily over to the buffet table to face the cheesecake and attempt to reveal it’s terrible secret. He pulled a knife and one of those triangular cake cutter things from his belt and set to work. He began at the top with the knife and started to cut through the soft creamy icing and moist spongy filling. After a few seconds of carving the cake he was alarmed by a noise coming from the cake. “Ouch” it yelled “Stop that!”
“By God!” Ted exclaimed “the cake is alive!”
Now he understood what the crazy old cotton-wool-nosed man was talking about, the cake was evil and probably racist too. Ted slashed and gashed and mashed the cake with knives and fists and the little sharp cocktail sticks pulled from the party sausages. The cake kept screaming and yelping and bleeding and Ted was resilient in his attempt to flout the pleas of “stop” and “it’s hurting” from the malevolent cheesecake.
After the cutting, thrashing and screaming subsided and Ted dropped the triangular cake cutter thing and wiped a blob of frosting from his cheek. A slow clap was started and Ted, with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, wondered why everyone was being so patronising. He realised, however, what the kafuffle was about when a dead stripper fell from the cake with a glazed over look in her eyes, lacerations all over her body and several cocktail sticks jammed in her face.
Ted pushed the two delightfully naked strippers off his lap and manoeuvred across the room to confront this elderly gatecrasher.
“Excuse me” Ted said in his sternest voice “May I ask who you are?”
“You may” replied the old man, grooming crumbs from his beard
After a short painful pause Ted prompted the old man who seemed to be falling asleep,
“Well, who are you then?”
“I am the one” the old man spluttered “Who made this wonderful cake for your party”
The old man motioned with a bony hand to his right where a elegantly crafted cake towered high above the sausages on sticks and salsa dips on the buffet table.
“Wow” gasped Ted “That’s beautiful!”
“Yes” nodded the old man
“What sort of cake is it?” questioned Ted in a hungry tone
“Cheesecake” replied the old man in a cold voice “But do not be deceived by it’s beautiful creamy exterior as the cake bears a terrible secret. A secret so foul that only the pure of heart are able to discover it.
Ted frowned at the old man before walking steadily over to the buffet table to face the cheesecake and attempt to reveal it’s terrible secret. He pulled a knife and one of those triangular cake cutter things from his belt and set to work. He began at the top with the knife and started to cut through the soft creamy icing and moist spongy filling. After a few seconds of carving the cake he was alarmed by a noise coming from the cake. “Ouch” it yelled “Stop that!”
“By God!” Ted exclaimed “the cake is alive!”
Now he understood what the crazy old cotton-wool-nosed man was talking about, the cake was evil and probably racist too. Ted slashed and gashed and mashed the cake with knives and fists and the little sharp cocktail sticks pulled from the party sausages. The cake kept screaming and yelping and bleeding and Ted was resilient in his attempt to flout the pleas of “stop” and “it’s hurting” from the malevolent cheesecake.
After the cutting, thrashing and screaming subsided and Ted dropped the triangular cake cutter thing and wiped a blob of frosting from his cheek. A slow clap was started and Ted, with the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, wondered why everyone was being so patronising. He realised, however, what the kafuffle was about when a dead stripper fell from the cake with a glazed over look in her eyes, lacerations all over her body and several cocktail sticks jammed in her face.
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