Young Writers Society

It was YWS's 18th birthday, and the whole site was in celebration. But suddenly, something happened! A cat named Timothy crashed the party! Timothy jumped onto the cake table and declared... "I have come to bring peace and popcorn to you, Earthlings." While the people of YWS did indeed like the sound of peace, they all despised popcorn with a burning passion.

"How dare you!" exclaimed one ywser.

"You monster!" Cried another, aghast.

Timothy scowled and pointed toward the cake with a paw. "Accept my rule, or I shall be forced to take the cake hostage."

"Now this really takes the cake for the most chaotic party ever," says one YWSer, annoyed by the cats intrusion.

"And the tense change adds a chaotic topping to the mix," comments another. Meanwhile, the cake sits there on the table, seemingly imperturbed by Timothy's threat.

"Whoops," says the tense changing offender, who has been writing both present and past tense recently, like a fool.

Timothy growls. "Hey, why isn't anyone paying attention to me anymore?"

The YWSers remember the weird talking cat that has invaded their party, honestly, this is no where near the strangest thing they've seen this week.

"Meh, it's a typical Saturday," says one, picking at their fingernails. "Remember that one time a rocket ship crashed into the People tab?"

"That was weird," agrees a bystander, "But I suppose we should at least try and protect the cake."

"That's more like it," says Timothy. He swats at the cake. "Now then. Buttered popcorn or caramel popcorn?"

"Neither," says a brave ywser, the crowd parts to reveal someone holding a giant flaming sword, "You're going down, Timothy!"

A different ywser gasps. "The Fantastic Flaming Sword of Food Incineration!"

"I thought it was lost forever to the Firy Pits of Despair!"

Timothy looks unimpressed. He yawns...

Suddenly, the flaming sword wielder does some tricks with the sword! Everyone except Timothy claps. (Timothy would've clapped, because the tricks were so impressive, but cats are physically incapable of clapping. Thus, he just stood there, looking just as grumpy and unamused as ever)

"So," says Timothy. "You have chosen the hard way, mortal."

The Ywsers gasp as Timothy lunges forward, but instead of going for the fire sword wielding member, he goes for... THE CAKE!

Timothy starts stuffing the cake into a burlap bag that was conveniently on the table. There's a faint yelp of distress.

"Stop him!" Yells someone, everyone runs for the cake at once, but they're all a bunch of writers so they aren't very good at charging into battle.

Well... all except for the Knights of the Green Room! "Huzzah!" shouts the Commander, wielding the power that has felled hundreds of green beasts: the mighty review.

Everyone cheers as they charge. Even Timothy is afraid! He stops stuffing the cake into the bag and tries to use it as a shield instead. "Coward," growls the Commander, "How dare you use an innocent cake to shield yourself from my fury?"

The knights unceremoniously pick up Timothy by the scruff and, after rescuing the cake from the bag, thrust Timothy into it instead. "Now the cat is in the bag," reports one knight.

"Thank you for saving me!" Says the cake.

In the background, a ywser gasps. "Did you know the cake could talk?"

"Rude," retorts the cake, "I can hear you, y'know." The cake stands up- if that's a thing a cake can do- and hops toward the gathered crowd of Ywsers.

"Does that mean we can't eat it anymore?" whispers another ywser.

"Maybe we should've taken the free popcorn," their friend replies. They both shiver.

"Never! No popcorn shall sully the land of YWS!"

Everyone nods in agreement, they seem to have once more forgotten the thing talking that shouldn't be able to talk. First the cat and now the cake.

The cake looks mildly annoyed, but it forces its frosting to curve into a smile. "Seeing as you've saved me from the dastardly cat, I will grant you all a boon." Because it's a magical cake, of course.

"Of course!" Everyone concurs. "What is the boon?"

The cake ponders this for a moment. "An unending supply of jelly beans?" It hops around the table. "Or fame and fortune? Perhaps resistance to bedhead--"

"Jelly Beans!" Everyone yells, cutting off the cake midsentence "The Jelly Beans!"

The cake bows. "Jelly beans it is." The cake sits there for a moment, apparently summoning the endless supply. Then jelly beans start to rain from the sky!

"Uh oh," someone says, "We asked for an endless supply, does this mean it will never stop?"

The cake smirks. "Well, obviously."

The Ywsers freeze, filled with shock and horror. What monster have they invoked?

Amidst the flood of regrets and jelly beans, the poor forgotten person with the Fantastic Flaming Sword of Food Incineration clears their throat. "I may have a solution," they say, as they raise their sword toward the sky.

Hope brightens the ywsers' faces. "Our savior! Get those jelly beans!"

With a look of great determination, he spins his sword around in the air, doing the greatest trick of them all! The jelly beans shimmer under the fires light. It's almost beautiful. But despite all their grandeur, the jelly beans continue to rain. The sword- to everyone's horror, flickers out.

The sword-wielder looks at the sword and gasps. Everyone starts to whisper worriedly again. "What'll we do now?" They try their best to avoid the flaming jelly bean pieces falling from the sky.

During all the chaos, The Commander has been sneaking up behind the cake. He is holding another burlap sack he found, somewhere. With a mighty yell, he throws it over the cake!

The cake yelps. "How dare--"

The Commander strikes a heroic pose, holding the cake-in-the-sack aloft. "Now then, cake, stop this madness."

The jelly beans cease to rain, leaving only the ones already there, strewn across the floor. The sword-wielder kicks them in anguish. Other then them, though, the Ywsers cheer!

"Huzzah!"

"Hip hip hooray!"

"Now then," The Commander says, "How about we celebrate, by having some cake?"

"N-not the evil cake, right?" asks a ywser.

The Commander thinks about it for a moment too long, before saying, "No, of course not. Let's go get a normal one."

The ywser sighs in relief, and everyone cheers again.

"Happy birthday, YWS!"