Frightened Out of Their Wits

Well, let's be nice and just assume that's what happened.

The positive: they remembered to dot the "i."

The negative: there's an "i."

Tell you what, Wreckerator: if you can say it, I'll buy it.

Preeeesenting! The One Eyed, One Exploding Sprinkle Brained, Cookie Purple People Eater!

I'm pretty sure the "boo" is unnecessary. Someone hold me.

I love it when Wreckerators place a bunch of little flotsam versions of whatever the cake is supposed to be ON the actual cake. You know, like this:

It says, "yes, I know you can't tell what my cake is, and no, the candy corn CANNOT GO ON THE YELLOW OR WHITE STRIPE. What, are you crazy?"

This one actually makes sense when you realize "RIP" stands for "rest in poo."

And this one makes sense when you...uh...no. Sorry. It just doesn't make sense.

I'd like to point out that the sign next to this one says, "Candy Fun Cake."

Hm. You say "candy fun cake," I say, "pass the pumpkin pie, please."

And I don't even like pumpkin pie.

Something tells me Mr. Skeleton is a little hard up.

And how do I know he's a "Mister"?

Well...

Let's just say I have a bone to pick with this Wreckerator.

Chickpea, Brittanie R., Kara, Jessie M., Sarah W., Mary T., Elizabeth S., & Melissa S., not to be cryptic, but singing out of tomb is one grave situation. I suspect a plot rife with skulduggery.

Well, That's Horrifying

You know, I thought eating a cake baby was wrong.

I thought it couldn't get any worse. (At least not legally.)

Then

I

saw

this:

Michelle M., I am never eating meatloaf again.