Cakes and Cruelty

PART II

    After preheating one of the many ovens, Hamton and Fifi both set out to work in different places: Hamton at a nearby counter and Fifi at the stove.

    Hamton, having made several cakes in the past, knew most of the measurements by heart and was quick in portioning the proper amount of flour, sugar, salt, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and cocoa powder for each of the cake's two layers.

    Fifi, meanwhile, gripped the handles of a double-boiler and took charge in melting the cake's primary ingredient on the stovetop. As the bittersweet-chocolate softened, she quickly and easily prepared the wet ingredients, which included the eggs, canola oil, vanilla extract, and buttermilk. With everything set, she returned to melting the chocolate, smiling as she stirred it with a wooden spoon.

    Hamton came over with the brown sugar so he could add it to the eggs. As he whisked, he watched as Fifi hummed and stirred. She looked totally at ease, as though this came as naturally to her as breathing. The rich, hot scent of chocolate was strong now. When she took the pot off the stove and showed it to him, Hamton thought he might melt too; the chocolate inside was so shiny he could see his reflection.

    "Milk chocolate with just a teeny bit of dark," Fifi explained. "Très délicieux (very delicious), non?"

    "MM-Hmm," Hamton replied, the chocolate filling him up like drink.

    With the chocolate all finished, Hamton and Fifi returned to the counter and started mixing their ingredients, taking a batch apiece. One hand gripping the bowl and the other whisking the batter, Hamton took this chance to glance around the cafeteria.

    Nearby, Plucky was having an argument with Shirley, who was disputing certain ingredients being added to their mix. Apparently she thought some were too fattening and insisted on adding alternative ingredients like soy milk and tofu egg yolk.

    Furrball was spending less time mixing and more time trying to keep Dizzy Devil from eating everything (including the bowl, mixing spoon, and half the countertop).

    Calamity and Little Beeper seemed to be doing fine, although Hamton could see a look of hunger in Calamity's eyes that were less for the cake and more for his partner.

    As far as Hamton could tell, Mary Melody and Gogo were doing all right, but Gogo, for some reason, started pounding his cake batter with a hammer. Mary, who was watching this, had her hand pressed to her face in embarrassment as bits of batter flew around them.

    Buster looked downright dreary. He whisked his batter while glancing uncomfortably over his shoulder like a man expecting an attack. Elmyra stood from behind, staring at Buster as though he was an irresistible plush toy just dying to be hugged. Hamton could hear Elmyra singing as she stirred her batter. Listening closely, he made out the lyrics:

Funny, Funny, Bunny-Wunny

You make me laugh, and smile, and sigh.

But if you ever try to leave me,

I'll hug you tight and right until you die.

    Buster started mixing more hectically, clearly wanting nothing more than to be five hundred miles from here.

    But Buster's nervousness, Elmyra's humming, and everything else came to an abrupt halt at the sound of a very loud CLANG!

    Hamton, Fifi, and everyone else turned to the source in surprise.

    A large bowl full of batter had fallen to the floor and most of its goopy contents now lay at Babs' large feet. She was glaring at Monty, who looked both frustrated and smug.

    "Way to put us behind, Rabbit!" he said mildly so as not to provoke Professor Sam, who was glaring in their direction.

    Just as quietly, but with venom dripping in every syllable, Babs spoke, "You did that on purpose!"

    "Prove it!" Monty retorted through his teeth.

    There was a moment of silence so total that Hamton couldn't move. Everyone was expecting Babs or Monty to attack each other, but, to Hamton's relief, Babs chose to let go of this "unfortunate" setback. Stomping with anger, her fists tight and knuckles going white, Babs picked up the bowl and slammed it back onto the counter.

****

    With the cake batter ready, Hamton and Fifi placed their round cake pans into the fully heated oven and set a timer. Knowing they both had a few spare minutes, they walked back to the counter to clean up any traces of flour and batter. As for the spoon used to mix the chocolate, Fifi kindly gave it to Hamton to lick dry. With a washrag in one hand wiping down the counter, Hamton brought the spoon into his mouth . . . and froze.

    The taste was incredible. Never in Hamton's life had he experienced chocolate this rich and perfect.

    But before Hamton could ask Fifi about it, Plucky and Shirley walked over. Plucky's face was spattered with flour. He blew a puff of it out from his bill, looking annoyed.

    "Uh . . . having fun?" asked Hamton, setting the spoon back on the counter.

    Just as Plucky opened his mouth to speak, Shirley happily answered for him. "Oh, yeah. Me and Plucky are, like, trying a new recipe of mine: Aura-Cleansing Tofu Cake with raspberry syrup."

    "The syrup was my idea," said Plucky, and there was not a trace of eagerness in his voice.

    At first, Hamton didn't speak, not sure how to answer. He had never tried tofu cake and couldn't honestly say he thought it tasty or off-putting, so instead, he simply responded, "Sounds . . . interesting."

    "Yeah?" Plucky asked skeptically. "Guess what the flour's made of."

    "Oh, Plucky, come on," Shirley assured him. "Insect flour is very healthy. Like, just because it's a cake doesn't mean it can't be good for you."

    "I'm just thankful we're gonna blow it up." He turned back to Hamton and Fifi. "Shirley's going to use her powers to make it explode."

    "Oooo, very creative!" said Fifi.

    "And you guys?" asked Plucky. "What are you two making?"

    Fifi waved her hand modestly and said, "Oh, just a chocolate cake with a firecracker."

    At hearing the word 'chocolate', Plucky's dour mood brightened considerably. "Well, you can't go wrong with that, and definitely not with chocolate."

    From across the room, Hamton saw Buster and Elmyra place their cake pans into the oven. No sooner had the oven door closed, Buster zoomed over to them, leaving Elmyra in the dust (literally).

    "I never, ever thought baking could be so stressful," said Buster, glancing anxiously over his shoulder. "She moves every time I do; won't let me go outside two feet of her."

    "Well, that's Elmyra for you," said Hamton with a shrug. "She's fixated on making us her pets, regardless of how many times she has to try and fail."

    "Yeah, well, I think I'd rather take being chased over this," said Buster, running his gloved hand down the side of his white cheek. "Did any of you hear what she was singing?"

    "Yeah, we did" said Shirley with sympathy. "Like, a total nerve scratcher. I totally don't blame your aura for being shaky."

    Plucky, perhaps trying to lighten Buster's mood, asked, "What explosive are you using?"

    Buster replied, "Eh, we're going with a time bomb, which Elmyra plans on setting off in her own special way."

    "Like what?" asked Hamton.

    "You'll see," and to this, Buster grinned deviously.

    At that moment, Babs walked over to them. Her apron was splotched with batter and her hands were so covered in flour that she looked like she was wearing white gloves.

    "I . . . hate . . . Monty!" she breathed, her glare sending chills down Hamton's spine.

    "Babsy, Babsy, calm down," Buster said gently, holding up his hands and easing next to his girlfriend.

    But Babs shook him off.

    "You try being Monty's partner!" she shot at him, keeping her voice to a violent whisper. "What do you have to complain about? Elmyra's a privilege compared to him! That greedy slime-ball dictator has done nothing but bark instructions as I did all the work! He knocked over that bowl on purpose, I just know it! And I swear," she added, shaking with rage, "if I hear him laugh one more time, I'm gonna jam a firework up his nose!"

    Buster bravely placed his hands on her shoulders and tried to steady her shaking. "Babs, please, just breathe," he said evenly. "This is only 'til the end of class. Just make your cake, then let it blow up in Monty's face. Don't let him poison your mood. We still got our date tonight. Remember, Babsy?"

    At these words, Babs' anger seemed to hit a wall and she looked back at Buster with not a trace of anger. Letting out one quiet breath, she gave him an affectionate nod.

    "Sorry," she said to them all meekly. "Sorry I shouted. Of all the people here, I shouldn't do that to you guys." Taking Buster's hand in her own, she let out a sigh. "I guess having a time limit just gets to you."

    "And with a partner like Monty," said Shirley with her arms crossed, "like, no-brainer."

    "So," said Babs, her tone much more friendly. "How's it going with your guys' cakes?"

    "Shirley's trying to make ours into a literal tasting sponge-cake," said Plucky.

    "Oh, quit it, Plucky!" said Shirley crossly. "You've never tried tofu cake before, so give it a chance! Prejudice is so beyond you!"

    "And you two?" Babs asked to Fifi and Hamton.

    "Oh, simply magnifique!" Fifi exclaimed. "Hamton found ze most beautiful recipe and knows ze ingredients like a professional."

    Hamton's face went warm very fast, his lips forming a bashful smile. Buster and Babs smirked in his direction.

    "Well, you did great with the chocolate, Fifi," Hamton said, his face still burning. "Seriously, I practically melted when I licked the spoon."

    "Oh, it is nothing," said Fifi, looking rather pleased with herself. "I used to make a lot of zhese treats with my mother. She taught me everything she knew about chocolate when I was a little girl. Oh, and speaking of chocolate, Hamton, we better prepare ze frosting."

    "Right," he said. "Well, guys, I hope your cakes turn out all right."

    Babs grimaced. "Thanks, Hamton, but I wouldn't put too much hope on me and Monty's."

    Dismally, she walked back towards the counter where Monty stood, counting a large wad of money as though he had nothing better to do with his time.

****

    Even though there was store-bought frosting available with the other ingredients, Fifi was determined to try and make everything from scratch, and since they had time while their cake baked, it seemed like an okay idea. Hamton had never made homemade frosting before, and so it was a relief that Fifi announced she would take care of it as he watched the cake.

    Hamton bent down and stared through the oven's glass window at the two cake pans in the blazing heat. The batter was only halfway through its required baking time and, judging by the cafeteria's wall clock, he and Fifi would only have ten minutes remaining to add the finishing touches.

    In the meantime, Hamton concentrated on the oven, the heat from inside warming him like a fireplace.

    The whole cafeteria was aloft with delicious smells as the cakes neared completion. A complex, tropical scent seeped out of Calamity and Little Beeper's oven; Plucky's and Shirley's smelled strange yet enticing; and Buster and Elmyra's held the aroma of overly-sweet carrots.

    The other scents were less inviting. Furrball and Dizzy's cake didn't seem to have much scent (Hamton wondered vaguely if Dizzy had succeeded in eating most of the ingredients). Mary Melody and Gogo's cake smelled outright peculiar and Hamton wondered if it was even a cake baking in that oven. No scent, however, seemed as disagreeing as Babs' and Monty's. Hamton couldn't place it but he rather thought their cake smelled like the inside of a blacksmith shop. Babs was looking grouchy and surly, clearly not wanting anyone to talk to her less she explode with angry shouts. Monty, for some reason, was talking on a cellular phone and, from the looks of it, making demands.

    And all the while this was happening, Professor Yosemite Sam sat down on a chair in the corner, his arms crossed, watching the students like an outlaw looking for a fight.

    The instant the timer went off, Hamton pulled open the oven and removed the two cake pans, the hot metal warming his hands through the oven mitts. The chocolatey smell was heavenly; if he wasn't in such a hurry, he would've stopped to savor the moment.

    "Fifi!" said Hamton, placing the pans on the counter and removing the cakes via the parchment paper. "The cakes are out."

    "Good," she said while swiftly mixing a bowl of frosting. "Let zem cool for a bit, zen we shall decorate."

    Doing just that, Hamton placed the two separate layers on an Acme Nearly Instant Cooling Tray (specially designed for treats that must be finished quickly).

    "Hamton," said Fifi rather hurriedly, "grab ze frosting bags and fill zem up, s'il vous plait." She slid two bowls in front of Hamton: one holding a white frosting, the other a light pink.

    Hamton stared down in surprise. "You made two bowls of frosting?"

    "Oh non, mon amie, I made three!" she said, now mixing a bowl with a dark chocolate frosting. "Hurry, Hamton! We will have to start decorating right after we stack ze cakes!"

    Hamton nodded and, taking two clear plastic bags, scrapped in the white and pink frostings with a rubber spatula. His pig snout detected vanilla from the first and strawberry from the second.

    "Ready!" The moment Fifi said this, Hamton and her both began spreading the chocolate icing all over the cake's first layer. When it was fully coated, they stacked the second, then applied the last of the chocolate frosting.

    "Five minutes!" shouted Yosemite Sam.

    The whole class kicked into high gear.

    "I'll do the flowers," Hamton said quickly, feeling a little on edge.

    Just as quickly, Fifi said, "Oui, and I shall add ze lace!"

    Hamton passed Fifi the white frosting bag and he took up the pink. Without another word, they began to decorate, trying to keep the narrowing time out of their minds so they could concentrate.

    Hamton put as many flowers as he could on both sides and the cake's top edge. He was so focused that he couldn't even glance at Fifi's work as they slowly circled around the cake.

    "One minute!"

    Hamton felt his brow start to moisten. He twisted and squeezed the bag, shaping the largest flower on top of the cake in its center. Only when it was finished did he realize. . . .

    "Fifi, we forgot to add the firecracker!" Hamton said, his mouth suddenly dry.

    "Non, non, Hamton, I have it here!" Fifi said quickly, and she held up the tiniest firecracker Hamton had ever seen. It was as thin as a match stick and almost disappeared when Fifi stuck it in the big frosted flower.

    "But . . . but Fifi," said Hamton, staring at the tiny thing, confused. "How can that possibly —"

    "TIMES UP!" shouted Yosemite Sam, standing up from his chair. "Put down yer tools and gather together. We have to judge these cakes and be out by 3:00."

    As Yosemite Sam began pushing a square table toward the room's center, Hamton took a good, long glimpse at his and Fifi's finished work.

    The cake was beautifully brown with smooth, shiny chocolate frosting. Hamton's carefully placed pink flowers stuck at the two layers between long, stretching patterns of white lace that curled its way to the top and surrounded the largest flower. Fifi's design was as pristine and detailed as though she had just finished sewing with white thread.

    "What do you think, Hamton?" she asked, sounding uncertain. "Does it . . . does it look all right?"

    Hamton answer was honest and simple. "Better than the book's."

    Fifi smiled at him.

    "Come, Monsieur Chef," and she took Hamton's hand and led him to the other students who were grouping together on the other side of the cafeteria. Hamton could feel his face going red again.

    They stopped beside Buster and Babs who were holding hands. Babs still didn't look too happy. Looking over towards Monty, Hamton saw someone he hadn't noticed before in the cafeteria.

    It was a fully uniformed chef, and from the looks of it, Monty was making a payment to him, handing over crisp one-hundred dollar bills.

    "Babs?" said Hamton. "Who's that chef?"

    "Monty called him in," she said with a snort. "He thought it'd be an advantage, having a 'real chef' come and decorate the cake."

    "Which cake is yours?" asked Fifi.

    But before Babs could answer, Yosemite Sam's voice rang through the cafeteria. "All right, quiet now, I say, QUIET!"

    Everyone hushed up. The only sounds were the footsteps of the chef walking out the door, counting his money.

    "All right," said Yosemite Sam. "Plucky, Shirley, you two first."

    Plucky and Shirley both stepped forward and placed their cake onto the table in front of Professor Sam.

    The cake had two layers like Hamton's and Fifi's, but it was yellow with no frosting and drizzled with a bright pink syrup. The smell of raspberries was the only scent Hamton could detect.

    "Aura Cleansing Tofu Sponge Cake with a light raspberry topping," said Shirley, quite proud. Plucky gave a much smaller smile.

    Professor Sam leaned forward and eyed the cake beadily, his index finger resting under his bottom lip. "Hmm... Appearance looks fine, smells . . . uh . . . can't smell anything, actually. Tofu, you say?"

    "Like, yeah," said Shirley, confidence in every part of her face.

    Yosemite Sam stuck out his finger, gave the cake a quick swipe and popped his finger into his mouth. He chewed, then smacked his lips.

    "'Sponge cake' is right," he said with annoyance. "This here tastes like a dang loofa!"

    Off to the side, Monty let out a cruel laugh. Shirley, now looking put out, bowed her head a little. Plucky nudged closer to her and patted her back.

    "Now," said Prof. Sam, his arms crossed. "How's it explode?"

    Plucky gave a devious smirk and turned to Shirley. She smirked too and winked at him. She closed her eyes and concentrated. There was silence at first. And then, without warning, the sponge cake started to shake. Two seconds later — BAM! Pieces flew everywhere, spattering the walls, floor, ceiling, but amazingly didn't touch the other cakes.

    Hamton got sprayed with only a tiny bit. Tasting it, he agreed with Professor Sam that it lacked much flavor, but it certainly wasn't terrible. Fifi, Buster, and Babs, who received a few splotches on their aprons, seemed to agree; Monty, however, looked livid — he got hit in the face with a full splat. Hamton vaguely wondered if Shirley had done that on purpose. . . .

    Wiping the cake splatter off his face, Yosemite Sam gave a low whistle and almost smirked. "Well now, that there's creativity! No TNT or anythin'. Nice finish, you two. B plus."

    Plucky and Shirley grinned, and the class (minus Monty) clapped for the two.

    "Dizzy, do your thing!" ordered Professor Sam.

    "Oh, boy!" exclaimed the purple Tasmanian devil. "Me like this part!"

    Dizzy turned on the spot and began to spin so quickly that he hummed like a drill. He was now a tiny, violet cyclone, whirling around the room where Plucky and Shirley's cake had hit. In a matter of seconds, the place was left sparkling clean, not a crumb or drop of raspberry syrup left in sight. Dizzy then returned to the group of students and spun past everyone. There was a blur of purple, a strange sensation of wind and moisture, and then Dizzy landed back on his feet.

    Looking down, Hamton saw that his and everyone else's aprons were now spotless. How Dizzy did such a thorough job, Hamton couldn't imagine.

    "All right, next up, Calamity and Little Beeper," said Yosemite Sam.

    The rest of the class was graded in the same manner as the first cake: first by appearance, then by smell, then taste, and finally the explosion with Dizzy on the cleanup.

    Calamity and Little Beeper had put together a tropical confetti cake which was bright in color and, when exploded, released actual confetti. Yosemite Sam gave the boys a B due to the fact that the cake — like most of Calamity's creations — was half-baked.

    After coughing up a few bits of confetti, Dizzy Devil placed his and Furrball's cake on the table. Hamton's eyebrows rose at the sight of it. It was bitten clean in half, with large, clear teeth marks going down the side. Furrball was shaking his head in disappointment; Dizzy was patting his belly.

    "Cake taste good," Dizzy said to Professor Sam.

    "I'll take your word for it," grumbled the teacher, refusing to the touch the cake. "Now, what about the kablooie?"

    Furrball stepped forward and pulled out a match. He turned the cake around on its palette and everyone saw what had not been visible at first: a bottle rocket . . . pointing right in the class's direction!

    Furrball struck the match and lit the fuse. There was a fizzing hiss . . . and then, with a BANG, the rocket pelleted forward, shooting behind a fountain of sparks, carrying the cake with it.

    Hamton and the others jumped away in alarm, leaving only Dizzy at the front. The Tasmanian devil opened his gaping mouth and the cake shot straight into it. Dizzy swallowed it in one gulp.

    A brief moment of stunned silenced passed. . . .

    Then there came a muffled BOOM and Dizzy's body expanded like a furry beach ball. Letting out a loud belch, he deflated back to his normal size, smoke leaking out from his ears and mouth.

    "Wo0000w," he said, his mismatched eyes all wonky. "Very well done."

    "Indeed," said Professor Sam, sounding impressed. "Not much to look at, but a powerful ending. C plus, boys."

    Next came Mary Melody and Gogo. If Hamton had thought Furrball's and Dizzy's cake was unusual, he reconsidered his definition of 'strange' when he saw the cake Gogo placed on the table. It was large, gray. . . and in the shape of a claw hammer.

    "What in tarnation do you call this?" asked Yosemite Sam.

    "Pound cake," said Gogo simply.

    The whole class blinked; Hamton could've sworn he heard a rimshot.

    Professor Sam, looking as baffled as everyone else, stuck his finger into the cake and tasted it. "Hmm . . . Pound cake is right," he said. "Now how does it —"

    But his question was answered when the cake inexplicably flew into the air and slammed back down onto the table. It splattered, leaving bits of frosting smeared all over. Then, standing where the cake had hit the table was a new, rather normal-looking cake . . . in the shape of a skillet.

    "Now it's a pancake," said Mary, smiling awkwardly.

    Yosemite Sam blinked and looked from Mary, to the cake, and back to Mary and Gogo. He let out a soft chuckle — emphasis on the word 'soft'. "Heh — clever. All right. Tastes fine and did its job. B minus."

    Gogo gave Mary's arm a light punch. "Told you I knew what I was doing," he said with a smirk.

    "All right," said Yosemite Sam. "Buster, Elmyra, you two next."

    Buster walked off, Elmyra stalking him from behind. What Buster was holding when he came back made Hamton gawk.

    "What the..." he heard Babs say quietly.

    On the table, Buster placed a cake in the honest-to-goodness shape of a rabbit . . . a blue rabbit, with a red shirt, exactly like the one Buster was wearing under his apron. Everything from the long blue ears to the white tail was identical — size and height — to Buster Bunny.

    "Rabbits?" growled Professor Sam. "I hates rabbits!" he pounded the table with his fist.

    "Yeah, we know," said Buster dryly.

    "Isn't he the cutest, tasty thing you ever did see, Professor Sammy?" asked Elmyra, her hands folded while adoring the cake with a sappy look. "Don't you just want to sink your teeth into him?"

    "Don't call me Sammy!" shouted Yosemite Sam, slamming his fist down on the table again. With a grouchy face, he swiped his finger across the cake-rabbit's leg like a knife and tasted the bit on his finger.

    "Hmph!" he said, looking annoyed. "Figures. Carrot cake. But . . ." he chewed and swallowed, "tasty, I'll give you two that."

    At that moment, the leg that Yosemite Sam swiped with his finger crumpled and fell forward. Elmyra caught the cake.

    "Got you, bunny-wunny," she said, and she started to squeeze it in a bone crushing hug. And then, out of nowhere it seemed, Hamton and the rest of the class heard ticking.

    "Huh? What's that sound?" asked Professor Sam, looking here and there.

    "The kablooie," answered Buster, who stepped back to a safe distance.

    Elmyra continued to hug the cake, which hadn't collapsed under her vise-like embrace, but was starting to show strain. The cake-Buster's eyes were bulging as though they might pop at any moment, and then, just as the cake looked like it couldn't take anymore, it exploded with a loud BANG.

    Cake chunks flew everywhere. Hamton nearly tripped over his own feet when a piece of cake flew straight into his apron.

    Elmyra's face was darkened with soot and her skirt was tattered at the ends. She was giggling and crossed-eyed, wobbling as though she were seconds from falling over. "Woooo . . .," she said, quite dizzy. "Maybe I squeezed too hard. . . ." She continued to giggle while waving her arms, trying to maintain balance.

    But then Hamton heard someone else laugh. Wiping the cake from his ears, it grew more hearty. If he did not see it, he would not have believed it.

    Professor Yosemite Sam, the grouchiest teacher in the entire school, was laughing and pounding his fists on the table with uncontrolled glee.

    "That..." he said, straining on his laughter, "that was . . . bloody excellent! A rabbit exploding! I've been trying for years and never seen it done." Wiping an actual tear out of his eye, Yosemite Sam straightened up and said, smiling proud, "A minus."

    "A minus?" said Buster, sounding shocked. "But we just made you laugh!"

    "Yes," said Professor Sam, "but animal-choker here," he pointed his thumb at Elmyra, "called me 'Sammy', and for that, you get the minus, and be thankful you get that much!"

    Buster chose not to complain (a wise move). Dragging Elmyra back to the group, he handed her a wet dishrag to help clean the soot off her face. As miserable as Buster had looked working with Elmyra, it seemed the good grade they received had changed his mood for the better. He even patted Elmyra on the back in congratulations.

    Dizzy spun around the room yet again and stopped beside the others to lick his face clean of cake.

    Looking up at the now sparkling clean clock, Professor Sam saw there were only five minutes left until 3:00.

    "Okay, we all gotta get a move on! Hamton, Fifi! Bring up your cake!"

    Hamton turned to Fifi and she to him. They both nodded and walked to their table. Amazingly, after five explosions, the cake still looked perfect.

    Gripping the stand that held the two-layer treat, Hamton whispered, "Ready?"

    "Oui," Fifi whispered back.

    Together they carefully carried the cake to the table and set it down gently. Their classmates, they noticed, looked impressed by the finished design, all except for Monty — no surprise there.

    After a moment's silence, Hamton looked again at Fifi, who seemed to be mimicking his actions and feelings, wondering how their cake would hold to Yosemite Sam's rough judgement.

    And so they watched and waited. . . .

    The miniature cowboy stared at the cake, wide-eyed and in awe, wondering, perhaps, what exactly it was he was seeing.

    And finally he spoke. . .

    "It looks amazing," he said, sounding speechless. "Reminds me of my mother's gardens. She loved plantin' mounds of flowers, guarding 'em with white wire fences. . . ." He seemed to say this more to himself than to the students; his face held the expression of someone lost in a fabulous daydream.

    With more gentleness than he had shown to all the other cakes, Yosemite Sam picked off a piece — one with a frosting flower — and ate it. He chewed slowly, then swallowed.

    His face froze as though he had been shot through the heart. He seemed utterly taken aback.

    "Uh . . . Professor Sam?" Hamton asked cautiously.

    Fifi stepped forward and gave her teacher's shoulder a soft pat.

    "Monsieur?" she asked delicately.

    A second later, she leapt back in surprise.

    As though waking from a dream, Professor Sam let out a loud, "Ya-HOO! Now that there's a chocolate cake! Perfect amount of everything. The strawberry and vanilla frosting is mixed wonderfully. And the chocolate . . . wooooo-wee! Which of you made it?"

    Fifi raised her hand.

    "You, Missy," said Yosemite Sam, "know your chocolate! Just beautiful! And for that," he did something he hardly ever did, "I take my hat off to you."

    Hamton could hardly believe that something as simple as a cake could bring about such a change in a bad-tempered man. Looking at Fifi, he beamed with her at how good they were doing so far.

    "Yeah, yeah, great," came a nasty voice from the crowd. It was Montana Max. "But how's it explode?" He cut across Hamton with a light shove and stared at the cake. "As far as I can see, I don't see any way this mound of manure can blow up."

    Feeling angry at this insult, Hamton actually thought of telling Monty off, but Fifi stepped forward and pointed at the large flower atop the cake.

    "It is right here, Monsieur of Greed."

    Monty gazed down at the tiny firecracker sticking out of the large flower and let out a cruel laugh.

    "HA! That pathetic little thing? Looks more like a midget's birthday candle!"

    To Hamton's curiosity, Fifi smiled deviously. "Zen," she said, pulling out a match, "how about you light it, voudriez-vous?"

    Monty raised an eyebrow and slowly took the match. Fifi moved quickly back to Hamton, grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him with her.

    As they walked passed their friends, Fifi whispered, "Take cover, everyone!"

    Not knowing what to expect, everyone followed Fifi's instruction. She and Hamton took shelter behind a table. Fifi was still holding Hamton's wrist, but was staring too eagerly and deviously at Monty to notice how much Hamton was blushing.

    In the meantime, Hamton looked over in Monty's direction. What about that little firecracker did Fifi know that nobody else did?

    "Well, Monty," said Professor Sam, his arms crossed, "let's get this show on the road. Hurry up and light the thing!"

    Striking the match, Monty let off a cruel chortle as he brought the flame closer to the firecracker's fuse. "Ha! Leave it to a girl to pick out weak explosives. Seriously, how can such a wimpy —"

    BOOM!

    The entire room shook. Tables and chairs rattled on the floor, tools from the kitchen clanked and clattered, even the window glass squeaked in their frames.

    His pig ears ringing, Hamton opened his eyes.

    Nearly every inch of the cafeteria was covered in brown spots. If Hamton hadn't been more startled, he might have complained about the huge mess.

    He turned to Fifi, who was rubbing her ear with the palm of her purple-furred hand. Her face was covered in dark brown spots. Hamton's face must've got covered too, because once Fifi laid eyes on him, she started to giggle. As his hearing came back, Hamton blushed. Even if she was laughing at him, Hamton couldn't help but adore Fifi's giggles.

    "Sorry," he said bashfully.

    "Non, non," said Fifi, shaking her head with laughter. "I am not laughing at you, Hamton. I'm laughing at everything — myself too." Running a finger down her white furry cheeks, she said, "I am quite messy, as well.

    "Oh, it's not that bad," said Hamton, who would admire Fifi's appearance no matter what she was covered in.

    But compared to everyone else in room, Monty was easily the worse for wear. His hair was sticking up on all ends, his clothes were singed, and his blackened face was frozen in complete bewilderment. He was stock-still, like a confused and burnt statue.

    "What kind of firecracker was that, Fifi?" asked Hamton.

    "An Acme Mini Jumbo Boom," answered Fifi. "Safety version."

    This last part made sense. Besides the blotches of chocolate cake smattering every available surface, the cafeteria was still in pristine shape. No windows were broken, no lights shattered, even the table on which the cake exploded was in one piece — though with an admittedly large burn mark.

    Proud and amazed at the effect their cake had, Hamton and Fifi turned at hearing a sudden cough. Their hearts and smiles dropped.

    Professor Sam had been blown back by the force of the explosion and was sticking to the cafeteria wall, his arms and legs outstretched, his face matching closely to Monty's.

    His eyes shifted downward, and upon looking at the floor, gravity took hold and Yosemite Sam fell face-forward onto the ground. But, as a Toon long-experienced at being on the receiving end of an explosion, it took Sam no time to recover. He stood up, shoved his cowboy hat back onto his head and walked over to Hamton and Fifi, a steely look in his eye. Then he stopped.

    Hamton gulped.

    Fifi grimaced.

    Then, in the dead silence as the rest of the class watched on, Yosemite Sam delivered the grade.

    "A plus," he said, without a trace of aggression. "Beautiful form, rich smell, wonderful taste, and that explosion. . . ." He gave a happy whistle. "I didn't think anyone would be clever enough to find the Jumbo Boom, let alone place it in such a way that doesn't offset the cake. I don't often say this in any shape, size, or situation, but . . ." he sighed, "good job, you two. Very good job."

    Hamton stood there, shocked by the comment. The rest of the room had fallen quiet; everyone seemed to have stopped breathing by the effect of Yosemite Sam's words.

    Fifi broke the silence first. She gave a squeal of happiness and, to Hamton's complete surprise, embraced him from behind. He was so startled and so happy, he forgot to blush. A passing grade was nothing compared to this: Fifi's arms around him . . . her soft, beautiful arms under his chin.

    The class clapped for the two, but Hamton hardly heard it, ever after Fifi let go of him.

    "MMM!" said Mary Melody with delight, tasting some chocolate on her finger. "You guys, this is delicious! You two should do this more often!"

    Everyone around them agreed, tasting some part of the cake that struck them.

    "Mmm!" said Elmyra, picking a piece of cake out of her red hair and eating it. "You two should've made a chocolate bunny! That would've been perfect."

    "No," said Babs, whose smile was widest of all, her eyes fixed on Monty, who was burnt and smoking with half-melted shoes. "Nothing could be more perfect than this."

    "All right, all right!" came Professor Sam's gruff voice. "Dizzy, hurry up and clean the place so we can grade the last cake and get outta here!"

    Dizzy happily did so. Within ten seconds, the cafeteria and everyone in it was spotless again.

    "Mmm-mmm, good cake, pig and skunk made!" he said, patting his belly.

    "HEY!" shouted Montana Max, whose face was still black with soot. "You forgot me, you rabid garbage disposal!"

    Dizzy stuck out his tongue in disgust. "Burnt cheapskate no taste good."

    "Babs!" shouted Yosemite Sam. "You and Monty show your cake! Hurry up! Time's a wastin!"

    "I'll do it!" called Monty abruptly, and he ran to push the cake into view.

    Everyone's mouths fell open, and strangely, Hamton noticed, so did Babs'.

    The cake Monty carefully (very carefully) set on the table had not two layers, but four giant ones. It was glistening with diamonds set in the edges lined with frosting. Its lace was gold and sparkly, and its aroma was sweet as sugar could be.

    "Well, uh . . ." said Yosemite Sam, his eyes wide, looking up at the dessert, "it's certainly got appearance down pat. But how —?

    "Good question!"

    It was Babs who shouted. She looked outraged as she stomped towards the cake. She faced Monty like a lawyer giving an accusation.

    "Would you mind telling everyone how you baked a cake like this, Monty? I certainly don't remember it looking like this, and I should know, seeing as I did ninety-nine percent of the work!"

    "Shut up, Rabbit!" he whispered through clenched buckteeth. Calming himself with a great deal of strain, Monty looked back to Yosemite Sam. "Go on, have a taste."

    But before Prof. Sam could, Babs stepped in. "No! This isn't our cake!"

    "Shut up, ya pink rat!" Monty shouted viciously.

    "Explain how it looks like this!" said Babs with as much aggression. "Explain that chef you called in at the last minute!"

    "Hmm . . . Yes. . ." said Professor Sam suspiciously, his arms crossed. "Why was he here, Monty?"

    Hamton saw Monty look, for a fleeting instant, unhinged, as though he had just been caught in covering up something embarrassing.

    "Oh, uh . . ." Monty stuttered, smiling sheepishly, "I just, you know, asked for tips on how to put the finishing touches on the cake. And so what?" he asked. "I have the money, and you never said we couldn't use outside help, so what's the problem?"

    "This is!" shouted Babs.

    She slammed her pink fist down hard onto the table.

    The cake gave a slight tremble and the sparkling white frosting began to fall away.

    At once, Hamton caught a whiff of that same blacksmith smell from earlier and, from the sounds of it, so did the rest of the class.

    "Sacré bleu!" cried Fifi, pressing a hand over her nose. "What on Earth —"

    But 'What on Earth' it was became apart before everyone's astonished, grossed-out faces.

    Lying on the table, where the bright, sparkling four-layered cake had stood, was something that looked like it had come straight out of a cast-iron furnace. It was smoking pitch black, reeked of burnt scrap metal, and looked so dense that Hamton doubted anyone, even Dizzy, could eat it.

    The only thing more surprising was that Babs didn't look the slightest bit upset. Hamton certainly would, if he had ever put together such a disaster.

    "How the heck did you two manage this lump o' tar?" asked Yosemite Sam.

    Furious, Babs burst into explanation. "After Monty 'accidentally' knocked over our batter," Babs quoted the word with her fingers and shot Monty a venomous look, "we fell behind and weren't going to have enough time to bake the cake I pulled together. So, thinking it would speed things up, Monty turned the oven's heat onto 'Quick Finish' without pressing the 'Montage Button' first. Then he called in a pastry chef and paid him to whip up something fast and fancy to literally cover up the disaster that he made."

    "I see," said Professor Sam, glowering. "Well, given the state of this," he pointed to the burning lump of cake, "and from what you told me, I don't think you two will object with me giving you both D's."

    "Nope," said Babs indifferently. "Not at all."

    Given all that she described, Hamton would've felt sorry for Babs, but, as she turned to look back at the students, he saw she was quite content, even happy. Monty, however, was beyond furious, and went red in the face so fast that it was a real surprise he didn't explode.

    "Well," said Professor Sam, "one minute 'til 3:00. All in all, good timing. Everyone pile your aprons in the wash bin and get on out o' here. See you all next week!"

****

    The whole school was abuzz with delight for the weekend's arrival. Most of the students rushed out of the classrooms so fast it was a wonder the doors were still on their hinges. Professor Sam's Exploding Cakes class, however, was sure to walk out quietly and steadily, or else face the fury of their short, hotheaded teacher.

    Hamton left the cafeteria with Fifi at his side. The last class of the day had turned out better than Hamton could've ever hoped. Fifi had been his partner, they both received the best grade in class, and, best and most wonderful of all, Fifi had hugged him — he had felt her soft, beautiful self for five whole seconds — and that was better than a thousand chocolate cakes.

    This blissful daydream, however, came to a halt when an unexpected noise erupted from the cafeteria. Hamton and Fifi turned around, and were met by a bizarre sight.

    Babs had just walked out through the doors. She was laughing so hard that Buster had to support her as they moved into the hall. Plucky and Shirley were right beside them, staring with raised eyebrows as Babs continued to guffaw.

    "Wow, Babs" said Plucky, "you're sure doing well for someone who just got a D."

    Inhaling fast while chuckling, Babs wiped away a tear and calmed herself. "It was worth it. Seeing Monty get what was coming to him was priceless. Besides, I'd rather fail than cheat and get an A, especially with a partner like that."

    "Like, true positive karma!" Shirley complimented, slapping Babs on the shoulder. "One day it'll do you a favor."

    Babs, having finally gotten control of her laughter, turned to Hamton and Fifi. "Congrats, you two. I wish we could've saved that cake, it tasted great!"

    "Yeah, like, way better than tofu," Shirley admitted. Her friends looked at her in surprise. "What? I may have my own preferences, but I'm, like, totally open to other people's ideas."

    "Could've fooled me," Plucky mumbled.

    "I, like, heard that, Plucky," Shirley chimed. "And I did listen to your idea. I just thought mine was better."

    "Yeah, yeah. . ." said Plucky, though not looking too annoyed.

    "Seriously, though," Buster said to Hamton and Fifi. "That cake was something amazing. I mean, getting Yosemite Sam to act like that. . . . The two of you really make quite the —"

    But before Buster could finish, the doors to the cafeteria burst open, hitting the walls so hard that the stucco cracked.

    Montana Max stood in the doorway. His clothes were now clean and his face was free of soot, but this was little improvement — his teeth were bared in savage fury. Shaking with inhuman rage, he stomped to the six friends as though intent on plowing through them.

    Hamton saw Babs tighten her fists. She made to step forward, but Buster cut in front of her and blocked Monty's path.

    "Something you need, Monty?" asked Buster. His tone wasn't exactly aggressive, but Hamton could tell that Buster wasn't about to let Monty come one step closer to Babs.

    "Out of the way, you blue eyesore!" Monty shouted. "I'm gonna turn your tattle-tale girlfriend into a scarf!"

    "Go ahead and try!" Babs retorted, trying to get past Buster who was blocking them both.

    "I 'otta string you up by the ears, Rabbit! That D was all your fault!"

    "Says the guy who charbroiled the cake right when it was nearly done!" Babs shouted back. "You're the one who should be yelled at, but you're not worth two seconds of my time! Now if you excuse us, me and Buster got places to be."

    At these words, Monty's scowl suddenly transformed into a wicked grin. It did nothing to reduce the nasty feeling Hamton felt; quite the contrary, this evil leer was by far more unsettling than a murderous stare.

    "Oh, yeah, that's right," Monty said with his sickening grin. "You two fleabags are going on a date, aren't ya?"

    "So what?" asked Buster.

    "What'cha got planned?" Monty asked. "Gonna gorge yourselves on carrots? Play dress up in each other's clothes? Roll around in the garbage? Here," Monty grabbed a nearby trashcan next to the water fountain and dropped it in front of the two rabbits, "this 'ought to be good enough for you two peasants. Maybe you'll both find some dinner in there if you're lucky."

    Hamton frowned with annoyance. Of all the stupid and immature things to say.

    "We're going to the movies," sneered Babs, still being held back by Buster.

    "And you two?" Monty said to Plucky and Shirley, who were frowning bitterly at the rotten rich boy. "Going to beg for bread crumbs, I bet. It's all this green loser can probably afford."

    Plucky scowled and made to step forward, but Shirley held up a white feathered hand to stop him.

    "You know what, Monty?" said Shirley, calmly stepping forward. "Your negative aura suggests that you treat people like this because you long for something unattainable, something your money can't give you. You live in that big house with all your big money, and you have nothing real to be fond of, so you, like, try and make others feel like how you do for attention — which, in case you don't know, is totally childish and, forgive me, just plain sad."

    For a split second, Monty looked taken-aback by Shirley's words, but he quickly let off a cold laugh.

    "Oh really?" he asked, smirking at Shirley in that cruel face. "And you're not looking for attention?"

    Shirley blinked. "Like, come again?"

    "Take that tofu cake you made. Don't you know cake is supposed to be eaten, or are you just too crazy to understand that everyone thinks tofu is for losers with no taste? Although," he said with emphasis, "that would explain why you chose to hook up with this green waste-of-space," he thumbed at Plucky. "You're too crazy to find anyone else who would bother wasting their time with you."

    Hamton was finding it harder by the second to tolerate Monty's teasing, but his feelings were nothing as compared to Fifi's. Hamton glanced to her out of the corner of his eyes and was startled to see how angry she looked. Her teeth were bared, and her beautiful violet eyes were burning with fire.

    "You've gone awfully quiet, Loon," said Monty, grinning with sick satisfaction. "What's the matter? Does it hurt to hear the truth?"

    Shirley didn't say anything, but her blue eyes looked somehow colder than usual. Plucky, his stare just as icy, grabbed hold of Shirley's hand and she squeezed it.

    "Ah, how sweet," said Monty nastily. "The flunk and the nutcase like each other. Why don't you two join the diseased rats," he jabbed his thumb at Buster and Babs, "then you can all get together and roll in the dirt like —"

    "How DARE you!"

    The burst of anger exploded like a bomb, causing Hamton and everyone to jump in shock. It had been Fifi who shouted, and before anyone could blink, she was up in front of Monty, a purple finger pointing into his startled face.

    "Don't you dare insult these two fine couples, you heartless, worthless dog!" she shouted.

    Hamton watched in awe. He had never heard Fifi sound this angry before, and couldn't help feeling a little scared himself.

    Recovering from the outburst, Monty's shock faded to anger. "And just who do you think you're talking to, you rancid, purple stink-wad?"

    "Only ze most insensitive, unloving, deplorable boy I have ever seen!" snapped Fifi. "You have no right to criticize people and zhose they have feelings for!"

    "I'll criticize anyone I want!" he retorted, his ugly, enraged face inches from biting Fifi. "I'm rich, and you peasants are wasting your lives with each other!"

    "And you," growled Fifi, "are wasting your life with all zhat wealth and nobody to share it with!"

    "Oh, buzz off! Like I'd ever take romantic advice from a skunk!"

    Fifi glared. "You would not know love even if it slapped you!"

    "And you'll never know love no matter how hard you look!"

    Fifi went totally silent.

    "Oh, don't look surprised!" said Monty, sneering. "You've known all along! Just look around at your stupid friends!" He pointed at Buster, Babs, Plucky and Shirley, while ignoring Hamton completely. "They've been together, what, since our show began and ended? You, on the other hand, have been looking for how long, and still aren't with anyone! And you wanna know why, La Fume?"

    There was a pause, and then, without warning, Monty's cruel, wicked voice shouted, "It's because you stink! You make people gag and wretch with your very presence! No one can stand being around you 'cause your musk makes them want to run 'til their legs break! And so you hang around your friends because you get to see them happy together, knowing you'll never experience what they will!

    "In fact," Monty grabbed the trash can and pushed it over, knocking its contents onto Fifi's feet, "you might as well date this garbage. It's just like you: it smells, you live in it at the Dump, and it's all any man will ever see when they look at you!"

    Laughing cruelly, Monty walked off, having had his fun. "Smell you all later! That goes double for you, Skunk!"

    Slowly, the hallway become devoid of sound as Monty's laughter died away. The silence left in its place was heavy and dull.

    Hamton's mouth hung open with shook, as were Babs and Shirley's, their eyes wide. Buster and Plucky looked repulsed, completely lost for words.

    "Fifi?" Babs said softly.

    Fifi didn't answer. She wasn't moving, the garbage still laying at her feet. Only Hamton was close enough to glimpse Fifi's profile, and what he saw made his heart twinge with pain.

    Fifi's face was motionless, carved with disbelief. A moment passed, and her expression crumpled to one of deepest pain. Hamton could see tears forming.

    He had to say something to her . . . something, anything. But Babs beat him to it.

    "Fifi?" Babs stepped closer, her voice tender with sympathy. She placed her hand on her friend's shoulder. "Shh . . . it's okay. Don't listen —"

    "Excusez-moi," Fifi said in a brittle, trembling voice. "I — I shall need a minute. . ."

    And unable to contain it any longer, Fifi turned from her friends and walked straight into the girl's bathroom a few steps away . . . her hand covering her face.

****