An Original Story
I've been working on this for two years, now. The idea started with Fidel Castro, and then it expanded over all eras and countries.
Title: A Cupcake For You...
Rating: K
Summary: Everyone deserves a cupcake on their birthday, and world leaders, mad composers, and has-been pop stars are no exception. One little girl defies the laws of time and space on her mission to make sure the people of the planet get their deserved cupcake.
A Cupcake For You…
Mr. Hitler
The girl had returned, in April this time, in Germany, 1943, right when things were beginning to go down the drain for the Nazis. A merry gift was sure to cheer up the moustache man, she thought. She had arranged to have tea with the man, knowing that he would need a little more than a cupcake to help him along. She looked forward to talking to him, hoping that this visit went better than it had with Mr. Castro.
The Sturmbannfuhrer leading her to Mr. Hitler’s office stopped in front of a door and announced her arrival. Mr. Hitler was waiting in an armchair at a small table, tea already out. “Happy birthday!” she sang, presenting him with a red cupcake. He took it from her with a nervous smile, observing the swastika designed of chocolate ant sprinkles on top. He set It down next to his tea cup and gestured for her to take a seat.
As she did so, she asked, “So it’s your birthday? How old are you now? Oh, sorry, that’s rude of me to ask. You don’t have to answer. So how do you feel?” she asked hyperactively and Mr. Hitler immediately regretted his choice of putting sugar on the table. “I feel fine,” he responded politely. “And you?”
“I feel bubbly, thanks for asking! So how goes things? How’s your friend Goebbels, by the way? His birthday’s in five months, right?”
“Things are fine. He is all right, though a little excited these days, and I believe it is, yes.”
“Ah good to hear. How are things on the Western Front?” she asked, as he sipped his tea and eyed the cupcake. Should he have it tested? She didn’t seem like an assassin, but one could never be too sure. He didn’t want to offend a citizen and have ill words spread of him, either, though. What to do?
“It’s mostly victories,” he said. “Now I know you may be hearing of losses, but those are in other places, and nothing major. We have a good chance, I think.” She nodded and said, “So you have to work on your birthday. That’s really too bad. Are you sad? Do you get to go home early? Did you get any presents?”
“It’s not bad, really,” he told her. “Work must be done. For Germany. I am happy to sacrifice a birthday now for many relaxed ones in a greater Germany in the future. A man my age should not get presents.”
“Everyone should get presents. You’re never too old. But it’s nice what you’re doing for Germany. I’d say you deserve the cupcake more than Mr. Castro did, although I imagine he’s rather stressed.”
“Who?”
“Oh, a Cuban friend of mine,” she replied distantly.
He did like sweets. And like the girl said, it was his birthday. It seemed like there were more arguments for why he should eat it, at the moment. And whenwas the last time he’d had a cupcake? With frosting? She’d even made it patriotic. Hmm, yes, it was very hard to resist this…cupcake.
“So I’ve been meaning to ask you…why do you have that moustache? Why that style?”
“I like it,” he said, a defencive note rising in his voice.
“Okay. It’s not bad, I just wondered,” she told him.
What if it was meant to break down his resistance? What if eating this cupcake symobolised his resistance wearing down? That would mean…weakening. He couldn’t do that. Although it just looked so delicious.
“How’s Eva?” she asked, seeing him twitch visibly.
“She is fine. Do you know her?”
“Oh, yes, I gave her a cupcake just last year. She loved it, of course. I frost them, but the person who makes them for me is just amazing. You should eat yours before it gets soggy.”
“Soggy?”
“It is rather humid, today.” Mr. Hitler didn’t think so. Germany didn’t really get humid, but, if she said so….
That’s it. He’d eat it. A mere cupcake couldn’t symobolise weakness! And besides, who had to know he was eating one, anyway? He delicately picked it up and peeled away the wax paper around it. The girl waited with baited breath as he took a breath, the red frosting clinging to his upper lip. He daintily wiped it away with a napkin,
Gott in Himmel! He thought, eyes widening. What an amazing cupcake! The most amazing he’d ever had!
“Thank you,” he said, civilly, calming down-or trying to. “It’s very good.”
“I’m glad you like it!” the girl said, jumping up, thanking him for the tea, wishing him happy birthday one more time, and walking.
Title: A Cupcake For You...
Rating: K
Summary: Everyone deserves a cupcake on their birthday, and world leaders, mad composers, and has-been pop stars are no exception. One little girl defies the laws of time and space on her mission to make sure the people of the planet get their deserved cupcake.
A Cupcake For You…
Mr. Hitler
The girl had returned, in April this time, in Germany, 1943, right when things were beginning to go down the drain for the Nazis. A merry gift was sure to cheer up the moustache man, she thought. She had arranged to have tea with the man, knowing that he would need a little more than a cupcake to help him along. She looked forward to talking to him, hoping that this visit went better than it had with Mr. Castro.
The Sturmbannfuhrer leading her to Mr. Hitler’s office stopped in front of a door and announced her arrival. Mr. Hitler was waiting in an armchair at a small table, tea already out. “Happy birthday!” she sang, presenting him with a red cupcake. He took it from her with a nervous smile, observing the swastika designed of chocolate ant sprinkles on top. He set It down next to his tea cup and gestured for her to take a seat.
As she did so, she asked, “So it’s your birthday? How old are you now? Oh, sorry, that’s rude of me to ask. You don’t have to answer. So how do you feel?” she asked hyperactively and Mr. Hitler immediately regretted his choice of putting sugar on the table. “I feel fine,” he responded politely. “And you?”
“I feel bubbly, thanks for asking! So how goes things? How’s your friend Goebbels, by the way? His birthday’s in five months, right?”
“Things are fine. He is all right, though a little excited these days, and I believe it is, yes.”
“Ah good to hear. How are things on the Western Front?” she asked, as he sipped his tea and eyed the cupcake. Should he have it tested? She didn’t seem like an assassin, but one could never be too sure. He didn’t want to offend a citizen and have ill words spread of him, either, though. What to do?
“It’s mostly victories,” he said. “Now I know you may be hearing of losses, but those are in other places, and nothing major. We have a good chance, I think.” She nodded and said, “So you have to work on your birthday. That’s really too bad. Are you sad? Do you get to go home early? Did you get any presents?”
“It’s not bad, really,” he told her. “Work must be done. For Germany. I am happy to sacrifice a birthday now for many relaxed ones in a greater Germany in the future. A man my age should not get presents.”
“Everyone should get presents. You’re never too old. But it’s nice what you’re doing for Germany. I’d say you deserve the cupcake more than Mr. Castro did, although I imagine he’s rather stressed.”
“Who?”
“Oh, a Cuban friend of mine,” she replied distantly.
He did like sweets. And like the girl said, it was his birthday. It seemed like there were more arguments for why he should eat it, at the moment. And whenwas the last time he’d had a cupcake? With frosting? She’d even made it patriotic. Hmm, yes, it was very hard to resist this…cupcake.
“So I’ve been meaning to ask you…why do you have that moustache? Why that style?”
“I like it,” he said, a defencive note rising in his voice.
“Okay. It’s not bad, I just wondered,” she told him.
What if it was meant to break down his resistance? What if eating this cupcake symobolised his resistance wearing down? That would mean…weakening. He couldn’t do that. Although it just looked so delicious.
“How’s Eva?” she asked, seeing him twitch visibly.
“She is fine. Do you know her?”
“Oh, yes, I gave her a cupcake just last year. She loved it, of course. I frost them, but the person who makes them for me is just amazing. You should eat yours before it gets soggy.”
“Soggy?”
“It is rather humid, today.” Mr. Hitler didn’t think so. Germany didn’t really get humid, but, if she said so….
That’s it. He’d eat it. A mere cupcake couldn’t symobolise weakness! And besides, who had to know he was eating one, anyway? He delicately picked it up and peeled away the wax paper around it. The girl waited with baited breath as he took a breath, the red frosting clinging to his upper lip. He daintily wiped it away with a napkin,
Gott in Himmel! He thought, eyes widening. What an amazing cupcake! The most amazing he’d ever had!
“Thank you,” he said, civilly, calming down-or trying to. “It’s very good.”
“I’m glad you like it!” the girl said, jumping up, thanking him for the tea, wishing him happy birthday one more time, and walking.