As you wander down a dimly lit path searching for an alley to fap in or test out your recent purchases of hookers and Arcadia Merlot, you notice a shining beacon before you. It certainly wasn't there yesterday, and despite the absolute reek of PVC and incense wafting from it, you feel strangely compelled to enter.
Upon a marble (?) pedestal is a creme-filled cake glowing majestically...
I AM THE CAKE, YE ARE THE PLASTIC WRAP: HE THAT ABIDETH IN ME, AND I IN HIM, THE SAME BRINGETH FORTH MUCH CREME: FOR WITHOUT ME YE CANNOT SATE THINE HUNGER.