Chapter 6 - The Pastry Chef

Gluttony is sacred tradition in the House of God.  

All day long, the pastry chef toils away in the kitchen, rolling and kneading every manner of decadent treats. Banana bread and crumble cake and orange flan and chocolate pudding. Decadent tortes. Crumbling cookies and hot pies, fresh from the oven. In the House of God, dessert is king.

Today, the pastry chef bakes with a heightened sense of purpose. He must craft a cake worthy of their unholy eminences, the Hospital Commission, who will be visiting before the fortnight's end. It must be a magnificent torte to satisfy their morbid tongues; a juicy and scrumptious pastry of unforgettable decadence. It must be something truly special—and for that he needs a special recipe.

Thankfully, an old and diabolical formula comes to mind. The chef sets to baking layer after layer of moist cinnamon crumble, as soft as a sponge. Atop this he lathers vanilla-pecan frosting with cathedral trimming and twirls of icing. Strawberries as bright as arterial blood are fixed upon the frosting like ruby towers. Higher and higher he molds the cake, until he is standing on a ladder, lacing the torte with a perfect crown.

The chef works all night, mumbling the ancient recipe beneath his breath. As he finishes his labors, his stomach begins to rumble. He steps back from the ladder to examine his masterpiece.

“Are you ready for the feast?" the chef asks grandly.

“Yes,” weeps the cake.

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Read on - Chapter 7