Ode to Madeline: Four (I’m fuckin’ tired. Give me a break from naming)
Vroom.
Vroom. Vrooom
Vrooooooooom.
Nyeoooooooo.
Neooooooooooouuuu.
Vrr.
VROOOOOOOOOM!
“Mr. BP?”
What’s that, BRAT?
“Can you, uh, stop?”
HAH! NO!
“But, I want to sleep!”
WELL! I ASSUME YOU ARE A GOD-BLESSED CHILD WHO HAD VERY VERY EDUCATIVE PARENTS WHO PROBABLY BAPTIZED YOUR ASS WHEN YOU WERE A PIECE OF UNFILTERED FETUS MEAT!
So.
SINCE YOUR Oh so precious parent figures ain’t able to speak! I’m gonna teach you something!
Madeline! When I speak! You SHUT UP!
“You’re so loud, Mr. BP. Do you ever get noise complaints?”
HAH! No party should ever be quiet!
“But…”
NO BUTS!
ALSO!
How do you like my birthday party holy totally-insured Rolls-Royce VEHICULAR TRANSPORTATION CLASS-5 DRIVER HELLTRUCK?!
“It’s… nice.”
IT’S NICE! IT’S NICE!?
Oh, my pure LITTLE Madeline,
This is not such a place for FUCKING DISRESPECTFUL comments, oh sweet dear Madeline!
OOOOOOH, IT IS NOT “JUST” NICE! IT IS THE ONE AND ONLY (awesome and cool)
HELLLLLLLLTRUUUUUUCCK!
VROOOOOOOOM
Oh, we’re home!
“Oh, yes…”
OH YESSSSSSS!
Alright, lesson 1 in baking, little Madeline!
You need to go to the Flesh—
“Mr. BP, I have to change!”
What?
“My dress’s ruined. ‘Cuz you sprayed all that… white stuff on me…”
OH, MADELINE. It’s PREMIUM GOAT MILK!
AND I’mma make you remember it….
Ohh…..
God….
…
…
OH SHIT!
HOLY SHIT!
i passed out
I PASSED THE HOLY LIGHT OF MARY’S SWEET DRIVING TEST OUT!
I CAN’T AFFORD TO SLEEP
I CAN’T AFFORD TO SLEEP!
I CAN’T AFFORD TO BE LATE!
OH FUCK TO THE NO! I CAN’T GET another TICKET!
MADELINEEEEE!
“Yes, Mr. BP?”
I, the great LORD OF BIRTHDAY PLANNING, demand to know where I am!
“Inside, of course.”
BTW, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING?
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
“Mama made it for me. Also…”
STOP LEANING IN, BRAT. YOU, UGH, SMELL LIKE AN UPPER-CLASS WHITE KID WHO’S BLESSED WITH DOLLAR STORE HOLY WATER!
“Whispering…”
UGH, I CAN’T HEAR YOU, LITTLE MADELINE!
“Then you gotta listen…”
WHY?!
“Otherwise, I’ll stop using your *service*...”
Tch.
Alright.
FINE!
Fine!
So where is your damn recipe book?
“Alright, so if you’ll let me talk. Firstly, I changed, as you can see!”
No need to twirl, ugh. You look like such a sweet little “angel.”
“And secondly, I put my family in a secret spot! You’ll never hurt them again!”
HAH! Madeline, Madeline, Madeline, you think you’re SOOOOOO fucking smart, don’t you?
But in case you forget!
I AM A BIRTHDAY PLAAAAANNER!
ANything involving BIRTHDAY and PARTAY is under MY command!
AND YOUR PRECIOUS WHITE SUBURBAN FAMILY is MY party guests—
“And thirdly, I got the recipe book!”
Oh, you brat. You did not just—
“Just what?”
FUckin—
“Just what? I didn’t do anything. You’re the one out of line!”
Do not. EVER. CUT ME—
“Cake time!”
“Alright, Mr. Big Mouth
Here’s a lesson in baking!
First you got the butter
And the eggy, too!
And pop ‘em in a bowl!
And mix ‘em swirly ‘round!”
That did NOT rhyme, you third-rate poet!
“Then you have the vanilla,
And the chocolate!
About a few spoons
And just a smidge of sprinkles!”
You just poured the whole bag. Ugh. Boriiiiing.
“Why don’t you mix this batter if it’s so ‘boring’ for you? Huh, Mr. Professional Birthday Planner?”
HAHA! SO you recognize my BRILLIANCE!
HERE I GO!
“Oh wait!”
WHAT?!
“It says here: “mix them gently!”
NOOOOO. It does not! I swear to the guy whose name is “dog” spelled backward!
“Mr. BP. Don’t you remember? You must listen to me! That is, if you don’t want my… Disssssssssassssstifaction!”
OOOOOOOH. I WILL GRIND YOU TO UNTIL THE VERY VEINS CRY FOR MER—
“Alright! While you were busy goofing, I finished mixing everything! So. I guess I don’t need your *service* after all!”
HUUUUUH? No. NO. NO! You. you.
“Yes~?”
Madeline. Oh, sweet and pure Madeline. Girl, you are such a TREAT, aren’t you?”
I will show you why they call me the ULTIMATE Planner of ALL BIRTHDAYS!
Your cake. LOOOK AT IT!
“Yes~?”
It is disgusting! BROWN!
“Chocolate~”
Yes, yes, it is a very popular ingredient. HOWEVER, it is not a birthday cake BEFITTING YOURS TRULY! It is not an ULTIMATE BK! YET!
But oh, Madeline, ya hear that?
It is the sounding sound of belly bell that telly tells you that it is time for ME to show you that PRESENTATION MATTERS a HELLLLLLLL LOT!
“Alright, the cake’s finished! I put it in the oven! Fresh and hot!”
It’s missing RED! FLESH! THE FINEST PASTE OF HUMAN CARCASS!
“Ew, where did you get that?”
THE FLESH STORE, OF COURSE! THEY ONLY OPEN FOR 666 HOURS/Millennium. So be sure to get ‘em hot.
“But I don’t like it!”
The fuck you don’t. PEOPLE LOVE IT!
“But I like frosting and sprinkles! Here! This is a piping bag!”
What is this strange contraption? It… SPLURTS?
Ohohohoohoh. I can squeeze so MUCH QUALITY brain JUICE on this not-yet-masterpiece-cake!
“No, you use it to squeeze frosting!”
Okay. Hold on. Time out. Cut. I need to try this.
Ughghghhghghgh
UGHGHGHGHHGHGGHGH
UGHGHGHGHGHGHAHAHUAHUAH
Oh my jesus lord
Woah.
“How do you feel?”
Ijustopenedmyeyestosomanybirthdaypossibilities
Ohmygodimgoinginsaneforreal
“You mean you weren’t before?”
Anyway. Ahem. AHEM! AHEEMEME! I have demonstrated to you how a MASTERCLASS Squeezing is done on this pleasantly-made cake! WITH MY HELP. ofcourse
“Awww. Thank you, Mr. BP. You called my cake pleasant!”
NO! NOOOOOOO! Little Madeline, you are sorely mistaken. I have only complimented it because I worked on it with you! THEREFORE, it is pleasant because of ME!
“Y’know. You are right!”
Hell yeah I am!
“Because you are here. I’m not so lonely anymore.”
OF COURSE! HAHhah…
What?
“You, uh…”
WHAT?
“...”
FUCK YOU! You’re crying again, shitty brat!
“No… I’m not…”
YES YOU ARE. JUST ‘CUZ I’M RATED NO.1 ON THE MOST WANTED LIST OF BATSHIT INSANE GUYS OF THE BUREAU does not mean I DO NOT understand you PUNY humans, Madelin—
“SHUT UP! Why don’t you ever shut up?! Just because I’m… small… that…that…you think you can push me? I… I… ever since you turned my family into... I’ve been so lonely.”
…
“And the party you threw, I don’t know what to say. I was so scared. I…”
…
“...”
“Can you even turn my family back, Mr. BP?”
Of course, I can! I am the ultimate birthday plan…ner.
“Then why am I not happy, Mr. BP?”
What.
“Birthdays are supposed to be happy…”
“Why am I not happy?”
…
Wait. Hold on, someone’s calling.
Click.
Oh shit.
It’s Big Lucy.
