caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake!

duders,
i dusted the doodiehole-shaped pan with ground chocolate and butters,
and when i popped it out,
it had a shiny chocolate shell of a skin.
wait...
what?
i made a bundt cake.
i baked it up, and ate it up, and everything about it was great.
especially the outside.
...because i dusted the doodiehole-shaped pan with ground chocolate and butter,
and when i popped it out to cool of on an oven rack,
the chocolate had sunk in, and the butters had sheened the crumb,
and crisped it up just a teentsyweentsy bit,
and that made it so much more expert.
yeah.
that's the way it went.
also,
it looks like a caterpillar, and i think that's cool.
check the teleport:

hahaha.
yup.
after i fired up the almost-poundably parapoundcake concoction that became
a very buttery smooth vanilla-bean bombardment of battery beastliness,
tamed from savagery by the circular shape and the corrective convection of my oven,
and the confection convention in my kitchen,
i had to take it up another 'nother notch.
secret chocolate skin is one thing,
but two more types of outer activation is what we really need.
.....that's a thing.
so,
there's a powdered sugary cocoa icing seeped into, drizzled onto,
and soaked through the outer limits of this already dang tasty
chocolaty championship bakery hottness,
and then, because rules is rules,
and too much is the right amount,
on top of that,
a verrrrrrrrry rich, dark, deep, three-kinds-of-chocolate-infused ganache,
striped and streaked in imperious slashes to make sure y'all know that,
here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
when  it comes to making even just a simple cake,
there's really no such thing.
i exclusively want everything expert, and nothing less, ever.
anything else is for regular buttholes,
whereas OUR buttholes are bundty woolybear caterpillar cakepits-
now and forever, and don't you forget it.
hahahahaha.
cake is good for you, probably.
it's good for me, at least.
i know that is definitely the case.
i can't stop crushing bite after bite,
like a porcine powerhouse of boorish boar-bristled animal appetite.
i guess i'm just a big fat pig on the inside.
that figures.
i mean,
bigfoot skunk-ape gentlemanly exterior,
enormous wild hog savage glutton within.
i can fit more in the furnace than the cast-iron cage would suggest.
like a TARDIS of treats,
i'm bigger on the inside.
well,
maybe except for my forgiveness gland...that one is pretty undersized.
otherwise, though, there's secret spaces for MORE treats,
and i'm forever trying to pack them full of sugary sweet delights.
i do what i can,
and i bake when there's time,
and i devour every crumb like a starved wild beast.....
some holes can't ever be filled, i guess.
that's depressing, actually.
awwwwwwwwwwww.
way to end on a low note, huh?
it all means something,
and maybe someday, there will be enough cake;
never quiet, never soft.....