Kado Makes a Cake[]
Kado sighs as he lays back in his hammock, staring into the great blue sky. It was Andrew's birthday, but he didn't know what to get him. Kado licked his fingers and stuck them up into the air. Perfect. A good time for thinking was always in the clouds. As Kado flew higher and higher, his mind wandered more and more. Should I throw a suprise party? Nah, that'll probaly birng down the house. Should I take him flying? Already done that to many times. He paused in mid-air looking at some clouds. Cake. Hmm. Never done that before.
Back in his house, Kado set out to Make A Cake. First, he found the flour sitting in the back of his cabinet, gathering dust. He spent 20 minutes seperating the dust from flour. then moved on to scavenging for eggs. He found an egg hanging on the floor, another stuck in the oven, and the last one was stuck in his boots and took him a whole hour to get out. After that, he cracked the eggs and mixed them with the flour. SUGAR! I FORGOT THE SUGAR! Kado quickly sprints to the cabinet and throws open the door. It comes off with all the force Kado had put in that swing. SItting lazily in the sun is a plump sugar bag, just waiting to be taken. Kado grabs it with such force sugar spills from the top like a freshly opened coke bottle. He zooms back to the ingredients, and after pausing and thinking for a bit, dumps the whole bag in. He then grabs nearby jug of milk and dumps all of that in too. He mixes the whole mess together, and stuffs what's supposed to be "batter" into the oven. Kado then sighs and collapses on the floor.
" Well, that was stressful."
DING! the cake was done. Kado acually shoots up a couple of feet into the air, then lands back onto the ground. He dashes back into the kitchen, knocking over an umbrella, 3 pairs of boots, and Grumpy. He practicaly yanks the cake out of the oven and places it gently onto the table before letting go and yelling,
"DAMN THATS HOT!"
He jumped around a bit before settling down.
"How to make icing how to make icing..." He muttered under his breath, searching through the pantry. His hands brush a jar and he grabs it, brining it out into the light. He sniffs it.
"Cream?" he mutters. He finds some sugar on the countertop and shrugs before scooping it in. He starts mixing, and soon enough he makes whipped cream. He coats the cake in it, and stepping back, admires his handiwork. He then grabs a nearby bowl of french fries and arranges them on top of the cake in a sentnece. 'Happy Birthday Andrew!!!' Mission accomplished.