While on the internet, I found a recipe for what’s called a “mug cake”. It’s basically a little chocolate cake, baked in a mug that you pop in the microwave for five minutes. It’s so cute, I wrote the recipe down and waited for the perfect moment to make it.
         Along comes my mother’s birthday, and I wanted to do something to surprise her. The plan was easy: keep her from the kitchen for five minutes and come out with the cake to sing happy birthday. She was busy anyway. So I quickly and quietly measured everything, dumped the mix in a mug, and placed the mug in the microwave. So far so good.

         Well, I first noticed the smell maybe two minutes into the baking process, but in my defense, it did smell like chocolate, so I left it. That thing grew so much that for a second I thought it was going to fall out of the mug. Eventually, it dropped back in, and everything was cool. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. The only problem was that by this time, even my mom was asking what that smell was. Stealth wise, things weren’t looking so good. I had to take it out before she realized what was going on. Sherlock Holmes must not be disappointed in me.
         Opening the microwave door, I was blasted with a smell of chocolate, burn, and death. Now I really had to move before she noticed. Swiftly, I yanked a potholder out of the drawer, grabbed the mug, and ran like a maniac to the great outdoors with a trail of steam following me. Inside the cup, something was bubbling and gurgling. The darn thing was literally growling at me. Maybe I’m a little too optimistic, but I was sure there was still hope for this . . . thing to be edible, if it would only come out of the cup. I had to use a knife to wedge it loose. While doing this is when I finally decided that maybe I shouldn’t kill my mother in an attempt to give her a heartfelt birthday surprise. You didn’t have to eat it in order for it to be deadly. I’m sure you could kill someone by just throwing the cake lump at them. It was as hard as a rock. Maybe harder.

I’m not a giant , it’s just that my little brother was taking pics

         My story doesn’t end there, though. I still had to give my mom SOMETHING. (When I set my heart to anything, there’s no stopping me.) I was hit with a stroke of genius, and in thirty seconds, it was ready, and we were singing the song as I walked out of the kitchen with my “homemade” cereal/breakfast cake. See, my mom can literally (using no exaggeration) live off Grape Nut cereal. So I poured some in a bowl, stabbed three marshmallows with candles, and placed the marshmallow-candles in the middle of the bowl. There ya have it. Cereal-breakfast cake! Happy Birthday, Mom!