How To Hide A Body

Ready, Set, Bake!

How could you possibly know that?! I typed angrily into my laptop.

He knew my name. He even spelt it correctly. Nobody does that. I suddenly started to feel dizzy, dizzy with fear. Fear of what this person could do to me. Fear of what this person is capable of. Fear of everything. I never felt fear. I was always the one who awoke fear in others! But yet, here I was. My heart pounding, blood rushing in my ears, short breaths, and glances over my shoulder.

Fear.

Don't worry, love. I won't do anything as long as you complete these, tasks. They are not labors. Just simple tasks. Do them, and you will be okay. Well, maybe. I might change my mind.

I hurriedly read the response. Tasks? What could he possibly want?

What's the first task? I asked. Bargaining was no use now.

Well, yesterday, I was watching the Great British Bake Off. And, I was rather disappointed. I mean, baking is a hard thing to do. My girlfriend struggles with it a lot, take it from me, but, what does the winner get? An apron and the praise of a pensioner. After all their blood, sweat and pastry. They deserve more than that! Don't they? So, wouldn't it be awful, if one of the presenters, just, got incredibly ill?

My blackmailer, who was one of the only people on earth who knew my actual name, wanted me, to poison, one of The Great British Bake Off presenters?

You want me to give one of the presenters, gastro? I asked.

This task was absurd.

Oh, do not think all the tasks will be this way. This one is a way to easy. I know. So get warmed up. And get ready, to BAKE!

"Cheque, please!" I yelled. 

I took a taxi home and went straight to my bedroom. I fell onto my bed, the duvet puffing up and deflating on top of me. Is this what I think it is? Is it Blackmail? Absurd Blackmail.

I grabbed my TV remote from my bedside table and switched on my flatscreen. I had recorded the latest episode of The Great British Bake Off, because I didn't have time to watch it last night, with all the paperwork. I switched it on, and fast forwarded it to the end. Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry had just announced the final contestants. Claude Thompson (who had made a three layered white wedding cake adorned with green sugar butterflies) and Rosalyn Crown (she had made a beautiful gold and purple chocolate cake, sprinkled with gold glitter). I observed the last two contestants. It would be easy enough to blackmail one of them. Easy. The question, is which one?

Both of them looked reasonably nice. The girl had a silver wedding ring on her finger, and on her apron was a #1 Mom scrawled on to it. The guy was engaged, without kids, judging by his interview afterwards. I went back to the baking part, where the stress was real as they struggled to stir the pastry or had problems with the oven, whisks and batter flying everywhere. It would be better to give the poison to the calmest of the two. Rosalyn was stressing; one could see that although she tried to hide it, blowing strands of hair out of her face while she concentrated on putting the white chocolate pieces on the rim of the cake. Meanwhile, Claude was running around, muttering under his breath, nervously stressing and shouting when presenters came to ask how it was going. Both of them would be freaking out if I gave them the poison. I fast forwarded to the part where the cakes where finished and their time was up. Which cake looked nicer?

This whole concept was ridiculous! Why was I doing this?!

I shook my head, realising I had to. I had no other choice.