Writing 0002

Aunt Maurie’s cream-coloured coffee table stood, just a foot away. Something is resting on the plate. A pie? A cut of beef? No. It’s a slice of the softest, creamiest Swiss roll you have ever clapped your eyes upon. Just thinking about the taste and texture sends tingles down your spine. Oh, if only you can just take a nibble! You look around cautiously and listen for distant footsteps. Coast seems clear. After a few moments, you lick your lips eagerly and proceed to sink your teeth in – gently – just at one edge of the roll, making sure to cut through into the smooth filling. Divine. The spongy cake seemingly melts on your tongue like sweet butter, and your taste buds bathe in its creaminess. You desire for more. A second nibble of heaven confirms that there is no turning back. The damage has been done. You check little Pete at the corner of your glinting eye. There he sits, on the floor a few steps away, playing with his bricks, completely oblivious to your devious plan. Your guilt is overridden by temptation.

And so, with one swift silent move, you grab the rest of the cake in one bite, careful not to leave a trail, leap off the table and land on all fours, your tail flicking in the air behind you like a triumphant flag. Sorry Pete, you think, as you make your way out the door. Better blame you than me!


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