Birthday

The cake batter dripped down the inside of the microwave, looking not unlike the exploded skull (and contents of said skull) of an alien creature.

Apparently, irrespective of what was clearly good common sense, a microwave was not a good substitute for an oven when the baker had overslept and didn't have the required time needed for the cake to be baked in a conventional manner.

I sighed. Perhaps the three layer raspberry/chocolate/ goulash behemoth of a birthday cake had been a little out of the league of a beginner baker. Why was I even baking a cake anyway? Everyone who knew me, knew that my kitchen cupboards were filled with nothing but takeout menus and ammunition. The slide out herb/spice rack things were the perfect shape to hold my grenades for a start.

I sighed again. It was my stupid sister's fault. My stupid sister and her stupid french manicured friend had looked had looked at me so scathingly when i had turned up to the last soiree straight from work. So ok, not everyone liked the smell of gun smoke and ash but I swear to God it smelt a lot better than some of the animal hormones those women sprayed themselves with.

Normally I didn't let the looks get to me, sure I might not ever be the belle of the ball but someone had to take on the family business, and ever since our brother had absconded with the magician's assistant of a travelling circus, that responsibility had fallen to me.

And I was good at it. Good enough to silence all the naysayers, good enough to keep our family's position strong amongst the others jostling for position with the Crown and good enough that the others in my line of work treated me with respect, rather than a joke.

Which is more than could be said of the useless fripperies of the female persuasion who hung about and thought whoring their way to the top was more respectable than fighting.

Not that I bore a grudge or anything.

I looked again at the....thing in the microwave. Maybe it tasted ok? I reached out and dipped a finger in the batter and popped it in my mouth.

Hmm, I was going to have to seal and bury the microwave for the good of all mankind.

I scowled. I hated baking. But I hated my stupid sister's friends more. Not all men preferred 'feminine and ladylike women'. Not that I wasn't feminine, just because I wielded guns and axes.

And I could be girly if I wanted to. It's not as if acting weak and delicate like a limp doily was hard for chrisssake.

The batter glooped. Was it growing? I hurriedly slammed the microwave door.

I glanced at the clock. I had less than two hours until I had to present myself at court. Shit.

I looked around the destroyed kitchen in a panic - there had to be something I could do?! I refused to turn up empty handed.

My eyes lit upon the mostly full box of cornflakes tucked away in the corner. I grinned.

Who doesn't love chocolate cornflake cakes?