It's been nearly a week since John's birthday, and his father is still cranking out cakes as fast as he can. For the main part, John doesn't mind, or really, he can't mind, whenever he protests to a slice of cake, his dad gets this sad little look, like John is scolding him.
It's taken nearly a week, but John's finally stopped caring. Sure, cake gets tiring after a while, but it's not like his father's cakes are bad, and after a while the sugary flavors don't seem so overpowering. Plus that Gushers-cake dad had made the other day had really opened John's eyes to the wonders of cake.
Currently, John is perched at his desk, working on 'homework'; he and Dave are actually currently discussing what they're learning in history and unhonestly debating which slight variation is true. A slice of carrot cake rests on the desk beside him, a few mouthfuls missing, and John picks at it as he types.
John is precariously unaware of how little cake is left, and when he finally logs off pesterchum, hearing his father call out something about dinner being done downstairs, his fork is absently scraping across the empty plate.
Shrugging off his fullness, John climbs to his feet and calls out a "Coming!" back downstairs.
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