[sounds of suckers on wall as Herr D approaches cake JR left out last March.]
Uh . . . [glances around with one eye, keeping other eyes on cake] Yeah, prs; nice works–I may have to read up on tikbalangs. Is that cake moving? 
[uses six tentacles to dash out, pursued by newly sentient cake wielding a garrote made of tied-together deflated balloons]
