#molthur

It seemed simple enough when he’d read  about it in the book. Molly always insisted on doing most of it by hand, only using magic when needed. She said it gave the cake personality, and Arthur wanted her to taste the love and effort he was putting into this. He was admittedly nervous, and he was pretty sure there were some twigs in his hair from where he had hid in the shrubs. He tried to shake it off. He was determined; he was going to kick this cake’s ass.

The first problem presented itself in the form of the phrase ‘teaspoon.’ It had always been a pain point for him, and his constant habit of getting the sizes mixed up was one of the key factors in him failing potions as fantastically as he did. Still, he figured if he added a bit too much of ‘baking soda’ whatever the hell that was, it couldn’t hurt. In fact, as he mixed, Arthur decided the more he could add something with the word ‘baking’ in it, the better off he would be. It did say on the recipe, in Molly’s handwriting that some improvising was all right. Necessary even.

After sticking the base in the oven, Arthur started on the frosting. Though Molly didn’t particularly like pink, he felt the occasion of a birthday called for it. This is when things really started to decline. He couldn’t get the food coloring to mix right, and now the pink was starting to look more and more like, well, blood.

He was looking up the solution as to how to add more whtie when the oven offered the lovely distraction of catching on fire. He screamed. It wasn’t his proudest moment, and blessedly, he didn’t totally lose his head before he remember he was in, fact a wizard. He put the fire out with his wand, but. as he sadly pulled the cake out of the oven, there seemed to be little hope. He was sure there were spells to save it, but he had no clue what they were. Not only was the cake charcoal black, but something (he later discovered it was the baking soda) had made it grow to an enormous size, nearly triple the size of the pan it was supposed to fit in. 

At a loss, and at a desperate attempt to at least appear charming, Arthur decides to add the frosting. This has taken far longer than he anticipated, and Molly was due home any minute, so he needed to hurry. The blood red of the frosting actually complimented the darkness of the cake, except it wouldn’t stay on. No matter what Arthur did the frosting kept melting off and dribbling down the sides. 

He was panicking now, and he realized that it needed to cool before he finished frosting it. The window. Arthur grabs the cake, still in the fan, red frosting dripping all over the floor, and moves to the window sill. He wasn’t paying attention, and he somehow managed to trip over his own feet. In mock slow motion, he watches the monstrosity that was once a cake fall and land face down. 

Arthur stays on the floor for full minute, staring at the disaster and trying, oddly enough not to cry. As he’s examining his life and the choices that led him up to this point, he hears the front door open.

“No!”

He leaps to his feet and sprints to the front door, finding a bewildered Molly in the doorway.

He can only imagine how strange he looks, and then he realizes he hasn’t said it, and he feels even more furious at himself.