It was, in essence, absolute perfection. The baker, a maestro of all things decadently sweet, had taken his time to expertly craft a cupcake worthy of being given to his new muse on this very day: her birthday. It was no ordinary cupcake. No, this had to be special. The wrapper, coated with the glimmering sheen of sparkling crystals, was only the beginning of how spectacular it was. The light blue icing was curled in a swirl and topped with edible, glittery stones. And on the very top, the showstopper: a bright, shining diamond affixed to a band of glorious, white gold. It was everything he had hoped, and it had been baked with precision, sugar, and love. Cautiously, he placed his creation in a small, square-shaped holder made of black plastic, and placed it within a tin he had also bedazzled in sparkling gemstones. Nothing was too extravagant for his special lady.
He knew he couldn't entrust his baby to just anyone. It had to be the only person he could count on to deliver it safely, while he made the other necessary arrangements. And so to his dear younger brother it went, and off on his bicycle did he go. Down the street, past the shops, cafe-bound he soared, the tin placed in the bike's basket as it slid from left to right and back again. Surely, it would be fine in its holder, so long as it would not be tipped. But suddenly, as if to throw a wrench in fate and bring forth disaster, the butcher ran into the street, chasing after a child. A swerve was had, and in result, a crash. The tin went flying, and in the hands of the child it landed. In all of his mischief, the young lad ogled the gem-covered tin and continued his run, a pouch of coins jingling at his belt as he fled. Oh, the butcher was mad. And so the butcher and the biker ran, shouting obscenities. "Thief!" "Scoundrel!" They ran along the cobblestone and breathed a thousand breaths. Until the child was first to buckle.
In his fatigue, he slumped over the railing of a bridge. When confronted by the angry men, he panicked and dropped the tin into the river below. A gasp! What was the biker to do? It was floating away, and he was on a mission. And so, mustering his nerve, he jumped. He jumped into the cold river, swimming towards the tin in an attempt to grab it. The perfect gift must not be lost! His heart was racing, his pulse was on fire! The water seemed an ever torrential current crashing against him, trying to pull him back. A seagull landed upon the tin, trying to peck off one of the precisely prepared stones. But with a wave of his arm and a scoop, the biker grabbed the tin, managing to keep it upright. Upon emerging from the river, he realized he no longer had his bike. Onward on foot he must go.
His time was running out. Sunset was growing closer, and closer. He opened the tin, checking to see if the cupcake was alright. It looked fine- more than fine. Oh, how he was tempted. He wanted so to just skim some frosting off the top with a finger and place it to his lips in an almost sinful indulgence. But no, onward he must go. The mission had to take priority. Unfortunately, he was not the only one who had seen the contents of the box. A nearby woman swooped in like a vulture, trying to barter the precious item away. But the biker would not be stirred! He must get to the cafe. He silenced her with his rejection of her proposals and pressed on. He would be a hero: hailed by the minstrels and revered for his perseverance.
The biker walked briskly upon the sidewalk, tin in hand. He had to do this for his brother; oh, how happy he was with his lady. A woman with a kind heart who could appreciate such a gesture. He imagined what it would be like when he arrived: the strings of romantic lights, the violins on que. Oh, how he was envious. He thought of her enjoying the tasty treat after she had accepted the proposal, how she would lick the sugary crystals from her fingers. Envy began to take. Oh, woe! How he longed for such a woman, and such a gourmet delight. He could never be a baker- he had not the talent. For a moment, he stopped and opened the tin. It was staring at him: the veryshiny cupcake.
From across the road, the librarian had spotted the biker admiring the cupcake. You see, the librarian had been the baker's friend for oh so long, and had saw all the work that went in to creating the object of desire. He confronted the biker. "Hail! That does not belong to you!" The biker protested, claiming his mission was the safe delivery. But nay, the librarian would not have it! He whisked it up and ran down the street, determined to deliver it himself. Oh, how the biker chased. The two ran, and ran- up and down hills, racing against time. The jeweler, who had just been graced by the presence of the butcher, saw the commotion. In their curiosity, they began to race after the others.
And so the biker, the librarian, the jeweler, and the butcher ran down the street. "Iwill deliver it!" Exclaimed the librarian.
"No, I will deliver it!" Yelled the biker. It continued this way for some time. One could only wonder how the cupcake was feeling, in that moment. Did it enjoy being envied and fought over? Or did it simply desire to be eaten? There was no real way to tell. Did the diamond long to be placed on a finger, or was it content simply sparkling away in magnificence? One by one, the parade-participants stopped. The librarian stopped, and then the biker, the jeweler, and the butcher. They stopped and saw them there, eating, talking. They were late, but the baker payed no mind. He was so very thrilled to see that the tin had arrived. The librarian smiled upon them, and handed the tin to the biker, who placed it on the table. They sang the birthday song in unison; they were no longer in uproar, but rather, were pleased that the mission had been completed.
Gingerly, the baker's muse prepared to open the tin. The violins were playing in harmony, and the mood was set. The sun was setting in the hills beyond and casting a warm light upon the countryside. She opened the tin, set the cupcake out in front of her, and stared. Her smile was wide, and her surprise was genuine. She placed the ring on her finger, but when she spoke, it was simply in the form of a question.
"Can I eat it?" The baker laughed. He adored his muse so. She would be his, and his cupcake would be hers. And so with a sweet kiss of his approval, she bit into the moist insides of the baked good, giving a squeak of delighted satisfaction. The biker, the librarian, the butcher, and the jeweler stared in awe. Oh, they wanted to taste it so. Suddenly, a tray was brought out.
"What, you thought I made only one?" A boisterous cheer was had! The biker, however, looked to his brother in confusion.
"Why did you have me deliver that one on its own?" The baker placed a hand on the younger lad's shoulder.
"Because I wanted to get all of my friends here." And so they laughed, and ate, and enjoyed sugary sensations and the shine of crystals. By the end of the month, the baker and his muse were wed. And for their wedding, a crystal cake was prepared, made only to be delivered by his dear brother, the biker.
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