The dog stood on his hind legs, paws clenched around a spatula like a sword, while the cat lounged on the windowsill, one ear twitching. “I’ll bake a cake so good, it’ll make your whiskers twitch,” the dog declared, flour dusting his muzzle like snow. The cat yawned, tail flicking. “Sure, Buster. Just don’t burn down the house. Again.”
The dog nodded solemnly, then slammed a mixing bowl into the counter. Eggs cracked open mid-air, splattering yellow globs onto the ceiling. He dumped flour in a spiral, stirred it with a broomstick, and added a dash of salt… which turned out to be glitter. “Perfect,” he muttered, patting the batter like a toddler’s artwork.
Meanwhile, the cat had migrated to the fridge, pawing at a Tupperware container. “You’re making a mess,” it said, nudging a stack of pancakes into the trash. The dog paused, then tossed a glob of dough at the cat. It hit the fridge door with a *splat* and slid down, leaving a sticky trail. “That’s not a mess! That’s… avant-garde!”
When the cake emerged from the oven, it was a charred brick with a single candle stuck in it. The dog beamed. “Voilà! The Ultimate Cake of Destiny!” The cat stared, then said, “That’s a rock. You’re a rock.” The dog blinked. “Nah. This is a *delightful* rock.”
The cat sighed, leaping onto the counter. It pawed the candle, which fell into the cake, igniting a small fire. The dog yelped, knocking over a trash can. “I’m gonna need a bigger oven,” he said, as the flames licked the ceiling. The cat watched, unimpressed. “Next time, just steal my tuna.”
