Friday, August 31, 2018

Tonight I am Betty Crocker.

Harold stopped. He stared. A row of boxes emblazoned with a red spoon stared back at him. A faint stirring of almost-forgotten ambition stirred in the pit of his stomach. He gently placed the Hershey's Brand Sliced Chocolate Cr̩me Cake back on the shelf. The convenient, pre-sliced confectionery was no longer good enough, no longer appropriate for the new Рno, not new, but very old Harold stirring within.

Tonight. Tonight, Harold would bake again.

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