Bollenhall is not a nice place. It is hot, dry, and boring. Very few tourists go there on vacation.
Most of Bollenhall’s residents leave when they reach adulthood. The mayor passed a “free cake on Thursdays” bylaw to convince people to stay.
Bollenhall’s residents are hot, dry, bored, and fat.
This story was based on the prompt “but there’s cake” at TypeTrigger. Read other writers’ responses here.
“Blow out the candles, Fraser! Yay!”
Fraser Wendel Summers shook his chubby hands in delight. Two years old!
He’d been born February 22, 2009, but had taken an “aging break” in the spring of 2010. He hadn’t liked having a February birthday.
July wasn’t his favourite, either. Next time he’d aim for August.
His initials are FWS. Get it? Get it!?
It’s been a great two years. Thank you to everyone who’s been reading my stories and sending in submissions of their own! You all deserve some birthday cake, courtesy of my wife and me.
I’m really looking forward to recharging for Year Three, which I’m planning to start on August 1, 2011. Until then, enjoy some more great guest stories.
Milos wanted to stand out, to be remembered.
As he wheeled the life-sized, entirely edible cake replica of himself into the room, he knew he had succeeded.
Every member of the cannibal collective oohed and aahed.
“The volunteer provides dessert, right?” Milos beamed. “Now you get to eat me twice!”
“It’s too late, Joe. I give up.”
“Come on, Terry, we still have to try!”
“I can’t. It’s over.”
“Well I’m not giving up so easily.”
“Then you’re on your own, buddy.”
“Fine! I’ll eat the rest of this chocolate cake if I have to suck it through a straw!”