cake

"Innocent Ogbuta, just what the hell is this supposed to be?"   "It's your wedding cake, Chidi, the one you said would make your dreams come true."   "It's making my nightmares come true, you incompetent son of a bitch. I told you clearly that I wanted a life-size cake made in my resemblance as I would look on my wedding day."   "I know. Isn't it marvelous?"   "It most assuredly is not. That cake doesn't look a thing like me."   "It, uh... I think it comes pretty close. For a cake."   "That cake makes me look fat."   "Maybe a little. But in my defense, it took five weeks to make, and, you know, you have been on that crash diet, and uh, I guess it is a little thick around the middle..."   "Fat! Is that what you think about me? And take a look at my dress. No, not the cake, my dress. Uh huh, uh huh, you see the problem? No? You tell me, genius, does my dress have friggin layers?"   "No, it doesn't, but... I guess they do that so that the cake doesn't topple over."   "The gloves go right up to the armpits! Oh, you idiot! Nobody's going to want to eat me now."   "Well, uh, all the more for me."   "You think that's funny? You think that's funny?"   "No. I guess not... I'm sorry, Chidi. I'm sorry I screwed up your dream cake, but..."   "Everybody is staring at it!"   "Sorry. I'm sorry, but can't we just get on with the ceremony?"   "I suppose so, but you better make this up to me on our honeymoon or there's going to be hell to pay."