Gfhliwe iejfpiehfi ieimic shsorry, I’m currently typing this with my toes under the table while DeGioia paces around the stage and lectures about how I “went too far” and that his “children read The Heckler™ .” Lljsfeh ifoiew hwehelpmeplease.

OK, DeGioia’s looking away. The entire school is staring at me though, while I have what look like doo-doo stains around my mouth, watching me try to eat this death sentence. On the upside, with an audience this packed? Statistically, I’m definitely hitting someone’s fetish right now. 

Apparently, the chef’s “sweat and blood went into this cake.” If you want my review, those were unnecessary ingredients and they really detract from the flavor profile. It could be the fact that I’m using my unwashed, sweaty hands instead of a fork though. 

Oh no, he’s coming over here. Oihfoi oewhwehmorsecodelk.

I swear, I passed out for a second on that eighth slice. The twelfth one tried to make a re-appearance a minute ago, but I swallowed it down pretty fast before I could spew brown vomit all over the front row. That fourteenth slice was all stomach acid. 

Do you think anyone has ever given birth to a whole chocolate cake before? I think I’m gonna need a hospital bed to deliver this thing in a couple hours when nature calls.