Description from original post (created 2012-08-11 17:27):
Let me tell you a story.There once was a confectioner, proud of his skills. His cakes were the finest in the land, unchallenged and acknowledged by all as the best. As such, he was always getting commissions from nobles, near and far to build the grandest of cakes, each sweeter and more beautiful than the next. It was said that men would give up heaven to have one taste of his creations.
Still, he was an ambitious man, left unsatisfied with what he was making. He desired to create more, something so much more than he had created yet. He wanted to create something akin to himself, something that had life not only poured into it, but could pour life out as well. His cake would move, would live, would be his immortality.
So, he set out to make this dream. He used his finest ingredients, sugar and cream so pure that simply seeing them would make a grown man weep. Only the best eggs were chosen from the best hens, the most perfect strawberries from the best fields. He worked for years, creating and recreating, until he was satisfied.
He had seen cakes in the shape of men created by men before, but he knew their folly. They created legs, eyes, and ears, but no soul. He knew better. He made bones out of hardened sugar, lungs out of finest batter, and a heart out of the richest chocolate, with frosting running through its veins.
He looked at his finest creation and rejoiced. It was his soul, his child, his perfection. As it first looked upon him, he weeped with joy. However, he forgot one thing.
When a man looks at a cake, he sees food. So, tell me, what happens when a cake looks at man?
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