In your messhall, being mocked by life.

[whoooosshh]

*The messhall is tonight the host of quite a spectacular spectacle. Upon a table stands an elaborate cake, shaped like a black coffin (dark chocolate) being draped in a red, torn sheet (marzipan) and adorned with sixtyone majestic black candles and marzipan-decorations shaped like broken hearts (tastes like strawberries). Next to it lies a written

Comments

[ascendthethorns]

Not one for sweets, Valentine?

[whoooosshh]

... Good evening. It's not that I mind them, but... these are special.

[ascendthethorns]

Then camp has provided you a consequence..?

[whoooosshh]

Yes. Whenever I go near it-

*But why explain when you can simply observe the many pleasant campers who try to bring Vincent delicious cake only to have it go away in a puff of smoke and be replaced by undelicious oven-abortions. Like the lies they are.*

... That happens.

[aninjaisfinetoo]

[may or may not be devouring half of your cake]

[whoooosshh]

*... Well it's not like I'm going to COMPLAIN when I want to get rid off it.*

[menageatrowa]

[...staring at the cake.]

[whoooosshh]

*It is delicious coffin-cake. Safe as long as you avoid the birthday boy.*

[menageatrowa]

[...continues staring at the cake.]

. . .

[whoooosshh]

*... Well I'm just going to continue staring around me then.*

[gimmeplzgimme]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR ... YOU!

HAAAAPPY BIRTHDAAAY TOOOO [gaaaaaaasp] YOOOOOOOOOU!!

... yay, cake!

[whoooosshh]

... Yes Pigeon. Cake for everyone.

[is_my_copilot]

Sixty one? . . . not bad.

[whoooosshh]

... Thank you. Not that I can take all the credit.

[is_my_copilot]

Just another fourty-two until you beat me. And no one can take all the credit for their longevity. Anti-aging treatments, proper maintenance, not being dropped out a twelfth-story window by their parents as an infant - most people have at least one person to thank for their not being dead at an early age.

[whoooosshh]

... You're a hundred and three?