Cake

Michael: “Luna, where are you going with a box of sparklers?”

“Um, nowhere.”

“Get back here.”

“Okay.”

“It’s still light out. What are you doing with fireworks?”

“Taking them into the kitchen.”

“Why?”

“I made you a birthday cake!”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh yes! And I just needed a few more sparklers for the very top and then it’s ready. I’ll even let you light it.”

“I’ve got to see this.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be very impressed! Mostly at the sheer amount of sparklers.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“Pretty cool right? One for every year.”

“Luna how many are there, exactly?”

“Seventy two.”

“I am nowhere near seventy-two years old!”

“Well I didn’t know, so I went and got a few more.”

“Give me those.”

“Fine. Sheesh.”

“Now where are you going?”

“To get the cooking torch.”

“Luna hand that over.”

“No wait! I want to light your cake on fire.”

“Give that here.”

“Hey! Give that back! I only got one of them lit. ”

“Oh shit.”

“Hey look! Another one just lit on fire!”

“That’s fucking great.”

“Yay! They’re all catching on fire! So pretty.”

“Luna, how many times have I told you not to light fireworks inside the house?”

“What? I can’t hear you! The sparklers are getting noisy.”

“You’re in deep shit, Luna!”

“You’re welcome, Sir! I knew you’d like it. ”

“I can’t hear a thing you’re saying, Luna.”

“Wait until you taste the cake!

“I still can’t hear you.”

 “It’s delicious! …in most places.”

“It’s as smoky as hell in here, young lady!”

“Don’t worry, the sparklers are almost out.”

“I thought you were going to let me light the cake.”

“Sorry, I got a little excited. I could go get a few more sparklers… if you like.”

*dirty look*

“Cake?”