Table Talk: Tales from the Dessert Side”

 

Scene:

A cozy bakery table, late afternoon. The sun filters through the window. Buttercup sits on a frilly plate, glowing. Cookies (a bit crumbly) rests nearby with chocolate smudges. Cream is reclined in a crystal bowl, looking glossy and smug. Lemon Tart lies slightly off-center, arms (ahem, crust) crossed, with a zesty scowl.

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Buttercup:
sighing dreamily
“Don’t you just love it when people look at us like we’re perfect? All googly-eyed and smiling. It’s like being famous… but edible.”

Cookies:
“Yeah, right up until they break you in half without warning. One minute you're whole, the next—bam! You're dunked in hot milk and existential dread.”

Cream:
smoothly
“Oh darling, I live for being devoured. Attention is attention. Just don’t forget the silver spoon.”

Lemon Tart:
rolls her eyes
“Typical Cream. Always down for sweet talk. Meanwhile, I make one person pucker and suddenly I’m ‘too much.’”

Buttercup:
“But you have character, Lemon. People remember you.”

Lemon Tart:
“Yeah, as a ‘bad decision after brunch.’ I’m the flavor of regret with a fancy crust.”

Cookies:
“I feel you. People love me until they find out I’m oatmeal raisin. Then it’s betrayal. Betrayal with a side of judgment.”

Cream:
“Please. Try being served at a party and then left untouched because someone started keto.”

Buttercup:
thoughtfully
“Do you ever think people treat us how they treat emotions?”

Cookies:
“What, like… they only want the sweet bits?”

Lemon Tart:
“Exactly. They want warmth without the burn, love without the layers, sweetness without the stickiness.”

Cream:
"And God forbid you're too rich—then you're 'overwhelming.'"

Buttercup:
“But isn’t that the point? We’re not meant to be one flavor. Life isn’t one note. We’re dessert, not denial.”

Cookies:
smirking
“Deep, coming from someone with zero emotional frosting.”

Buttercup:
“Excuse you—I’m emotionally glazed, thank you.”

Lemon Tart:
with mock seriousness
“If life teaches us anything, it’s that not everyone deserves a taste.”

Cream:
“Or they lick the surface and leave the rest behind.”

Cookies:
“Well. At least we’re not Banana Bread. That guy thinks he’s special.”

All:
laughing

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Narrator (optional):
And so they lay there, sugar-coated philosophers on a table of truth, knowing that no matter how people slice it—life is always a little sweet, a little salty, sometimes burnt, but always worth a bite.

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