The Birthday Cake Incident

My husband baked me a cake for my birthday. But before I could take a bite, I had to make a wish and blow out the candles.

So, I made one or two wishes and started blowing.

Now, you might be wondering: “Started? Blowing out candles is easy. You're not 99 years old. Why would you need to ‘start’ as if it were a long process?”

Well, guess what—it was a long process. And to be honest, I never even finished it.

I blew once. The flames flickered, almost going out—but then I saw tiny sparks still glowing. I blew again. Two candles reignited, their sparks forming perfectly shaped little flames. I blew again. Those seemed to go out, but just as they did, the other two came back to life.

I kept trying, not realising I was inhaling the smoky aftermath of this endless cycle of extinguished-but-not-really candles. Something was definitely off.

"Did you buy firework candles?" I wheezed between laughter and coughing.

My husband gasped, coughing and laughing, "I'm so sorry!". He ran into the kitchen, grabbed some wet towels, and yanked the candles off my cake.

I guess my wishes won’t come true this time. You have to make a wish and blow out all the candles, right? That’s how wishing works, right?

"You’re going to live a long life!" my husband said.

I think I’ll never die.

And the cake was very delicious.