A Grim Favre Tale...

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Brett. Brett was a spoiled little girl, but well-liked by the dairy farmers and hayseeds in her town. She brought the town some notoriety with her cake-making skills. Although she occasionally blew up the kitchen with some bad ideas, she also made some amazing cakes and had actually won an trophy… once.

And the town leaders overlooked all of Brett’s faults because of that ONE award, despite all of the blow-ups.

One day, Brett decided that she had made enough cakes, and wanted to retire. The town leaders threw a big gala in her honor and gave Brett a key to the city and a parade. Another baker was brought in to make cakes. There was peace.

But people kept whispering in Brett’s ear “You can still make cakes”. Brett heard those whispers and believed. So, months later, the town leadership was rocked when Brett announced “I can still make cakes. I want to go to VikingLand to make cakes.”

But the town leaders said “VikingLand is our sworn enemy. You cannot go to VikingLand unless we allow it. And we will not allow it.”

Brett said, “Well, if you will not allow it, I want to make cakes again here.”

“But we’ve already replaced you. There is no room for two cake-makers in our town”

“I wish to challenge the new cake-maker to a duel then. Then you will see that I am the superior cake-maker.”

“We do not care if you might be slightly better now. We are thinking of the future of our town. And this cake-maker will be here for many years. You will just leave the next time you feel tired.”

Brett began to cry. Some of the dairy farmers became angry at the town leaders. “We can still have one more year of Brett’s cakes!”, they argued.

“Suppose Brett blows up the kitchen and makes no good cakes? We will have wasted our new baker for nothing. No, Brett should stay retired.”

But Brett was not only a spoiled little girl, she was also a vindictive psycho bitch. She went to the good(ell) king of the entire territory to plead her case. “I am more famous than the other baker. I have brought much gold into this territory. Make them let me go to VikingLand!”

The king looked at Brett from behind his piles and piles of gold. “Yes, you have brought much gold into this territory. However, you overestimate your value because we would have had this gold anyway. I can only force them to keep you, but I cannot dictate what else they do with you.”

“Then do it! I can still make cakes! I will show them!”

So the king told the town they must allow Brett to share the bakery. But the town leaders were smart, much smarter than Brett. They told Brett that he would only get leftover flour, old pans, and whatever scraps of frosting he could find to make his cakes. “You cannot make good cakes if we do not allow you. You betrayed our trust by demanding a trip to VikingLand, and for that, you will pay.”

Brett began to cry again. By now, even the dairy farmers were weary of Brett’s tears. “Go to the Bay of Tampa. Or the town of York. We no longer care.”

Brett did not understand. “I am a great cake-maker! The Earl of Madden proclaimed me as the greatest cake-maker ever!”

The dairy farmers snorted their disgust. “The Earl of Madden is a corpulent fool. You have only won ONE cake-making trophy, and that was many years ago. Since that trophy, you have blown up more kitchens than you have baked cakes. Your time has passed.”

And so it was that Brett, once the pride of the town, was dispatched to the town of York to make cakes... York was ecstatic because they had not had a good baker for many years. The town was ecstatic because they kept their young baker. The scribes were happy because Brett was still making cakes or blowing up kitchens. The only unhappy person was Brett, who wished she had stayed retired.