So, the Title Goes Here?

Cake. Oh, Beautiful Cake

(We surround the cake, and my dad comes over with matches)

"Ooh! Can I light them this year?"

"Sure, betha."

(I take the match and strike it, and proceed to let the flame touch my fingers before I blow it out,)

"Oops.."

"Maybe next year, Esha."

(My dad lights the candles, and everyone starts singing. I stand up)

"Happy Birthday to-"

(I begin waving my arms as if I am conducting and orchestra, and keep moving them faster and faster, everyone getting louder and laughing as I do)

"-TO YOU!!!"
(I air-play an overdramatic electric guitar solo, then sit down to blow out the candles.)

"Okay, Esha, the number of candles you don't blow out is the number of boyfriends you have!"

"WHAT!?!"

(I sigh and blow out the candles...leaving two."

"OOOOOH!"

"NOOOOO!"

(Then, I hear someone)

"Quickly!"

(Before I can react, tons of frosting is smeared on my face. I literally cannot see.)

"What the-"

"YAY!"

(And that is the story of how my birthday cake came to be mutilated)