When I lived in New Orleans, I noticed they’d hold a little shindig called Mardi Gras.
You might have heard of it. But between the boobs and beads and shock and awe and puke and drunks chained to bicycle racks while cops on horses waited to come back and take them to jail… you wanna know what floored me most of all?
The day I ate a piece of cake… and bit into a baby.
Although I’m not a big fan of ever becoming a mom, I’ve never quite warmed up to the concept of eating children for fun. Even if they’re toy versions of food. Call me crazy, but I find it creepy. So whether it’s for Fat Tuesday or a fat belly full’a infant for a preggo shower – it’s just not my cup of amniotic fluid. So when I saw this series of cakes on distractify, I had to pause my brunch to marvel in horror.
Like this gem:
Ah, yes. The cabbage snatch dolls. A favorite childhood memory.
Which I officially can never mentally revisit again.
Next!
Wait, there’s something kinda Kubrickian horror-esque about this one.
Maybe it’s the lingerie that’s a bit off-putting? Or the partially hewn leg? Or the “Farewell” scrawled in ominous sanguine cursive, like the newborn’s about to be sacrificed in an illuminati party where people get naked and wear rabbit masks?
Mmyeah… No. Can’t be that.
Surely not.
Is she giving birth with her underroos on?
Or does that patch of pubes have no line of demarcation between the lady cave and anus?
Either way… taint right.
Crop top, denim bottom, baby making it’s grand exit like Sigourney Weaver breeding aliens…. Ah, I get it! A c-section celebration! Clearly this one’s planning on getting about as cut up as this cake on delivery day.
But… can I make one Caesarian suggestion, love?
Dont.
Your baby will end up a monster like me and all you’ll have to show for it is a scar like the joker’s sneer pointing all the way down to your own vertical smile. You won’t be asking people if they wanna know how you got that scar, though. You’ll just be asking yourself and everyone around you: WHY.
Why did you voluntarily do this when you ended up 0 for 2 on the worth-it-ometer?
Well done!
That is – if this one’s meant to look like Bugs Bunny when he holds the surrender flag out of his hole. Especially since those hands are a dead ringer for the white gloves he rocks. If that was her motivation, then the cake maker killed it.
She also killed my inner six year old with this bloody baked abomination.
It’s funny because I was just enjoying a plate of strawberries as I sat down to write.
Emphasis on the “was”.
Now I’m just making the same face as that delicious decapitated neonate in the snappy.
“Meat your new baby!”
Pretty sure this rendition of the scorched undead ambling out of a house fire is made out of some sort of ground up animal and a few of its friends. Wait… Is that diaper made of bacon?
Follow up questions if the answer is affirmative:
Is the oven you made this in still on? Does it run on gas? Can I warm my head inside of it for a short while as I wrap my head around witnessing baby genitals wrapped in bacon?
Please, if I ever have a child, your options are:
1. Kill me with fire before I lay fertilized eggs.
2. If you must acknowledge it with sweets, settle for something subtle.
Like this:
But still do the fire thing afterwards.
<3