An Unwanted Birthday Surprise
Two hands clamped onto the blue-collared shirt and shoved the man forward, driving his nose and forehead deep into the thick chocolate frosting.
The force pushed the tiered chocolate dessert flat against the wooden coffee table, sending crumbles and sweet paste sliding across the dark finish. Behind him, the blonde man in the grey t-shirt shouted out in celebration, throwing his hands up as if waiting for applause from the room.
For a few seconds, the man in blue stayed bowed low over the ruined dessert, his palms pressed into the edge of the table to steady his weight. He did not move, letting the dense brown icing cling to his eyelids, cheeks, and collar.
When he slowly lifted his head, dark brown paste covered every inch of his face from his hairline down to his neck, completely obscuring his features. His eyelids peeled open slowly, revealing clear blue eyes blinking against the sweet film that coated his lashes.
The Laughter Fades
The blonde friend leaned forward, a broad grin spread wide across his mouth, expecting the joke to land. Beside them on the sofa, a woman pulled both hands up to cover her mouth, her fingers pressed tight against her lips as she watched the icing drip onto the clean blue cotton shirt.
The man in blue raised his right forearm in a single, sharp stroke across his forehead, wiping a streak of chocolate away so he could see. He scraped his knuckles across his cheekbones and mouth, flinging a glob of brown frosting down onto the hardwood floor.
His jaw muscles locked tight, and his chest expanded as he drew in air. He stepped forward until his boots touched the rim of the coffee table, leaning directly into his friend’s space.
“What is wrong with you?” he barked, his voice vibrating through the quiet living room.
The blonde friend took a small half-step back onto his heels. He held his palms open in front of his chest, shoulders lifting in an easy shrug.
“Bro, it’s just a prank for views,” the friend replied, a nervous twitch tugging at the edge of his lips as his eyes darted toward the phone camera.
Drawing The Line
Before the host could speak, the woman on the couch sprang to her feet. She crossed the rug in two strides, pushing herself between the two men and aiming her index finger directly at the prankster’s chest.
“You went way too far this time!” she said, her voice rising as her hand cut through the air between them. Her shoulders stayed rigid, refusing to step back until the blonde man lowered his hands.
The man with the icing-covered face closed his eyes for a second, feeling the sticky weight running down past his collarbone and into his buttons. When he opened them again, his teeth were pressed firmly together, his brow furrowed so deep that the frosting cracked along his forehead.
“You ruined my birthday,” he whispered, the words coming out hard and measured between his teeth.
He looked down at the mangled cake sitting on the center table, then back up at the person who had pushed him into it. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides, knuckles turning white against his jeans.
He lifted his right arm straight out, stiffening his index finger and pointing directly toward the hallway leading to the front door. “Get out of my house,” he said, his finger remaining locked on the doorway as the other man stood motionless by the sofa.
Share this with someone who knows the difference between a harmless joke and total disrespect.