Delightful pastry shop.

i haven't posted in a few weeks, for which i apologize. i was beset upon by over-zelous teachers, and was swamped with homework the first week. For the second week i was bedridden with a new strain of halitosis, and i spent much of the week recovering. so, without further ado, a new story:

“There is a delightful pastry shop near where I live. It has a picturesque exterior covered in nice, inviting, yellow paint, little pictures of flowers and children, and many other little drawings the bludgeon you over the head with a warm ambience. When one walks inside, welcoming smells of chocolate, yet to be affected by the FDA docket number 2007P-0085 , and apples and berries and so many other delicious things. There is a little display case choc-full of pastries, still steaming and fresh out of the oven, and a little rotating platter of cookies, still warm and gooey from the oven. The people are all so jolly, and happy to serve you, but despite all of these endearing features, it has a dark side.

"This pastry shop exists for the sole purpose of my torment. The real owners are evil, and sadistic, taking great pleasure in causing me pain. They poison their foods so that my friends and family either become raving lunatics, or add “special ingredients” that addict them to their fine, oh so fine, pastries, and will do anything to get more. Right now they yell at me, and do all manner of unpleasant things to me, just to get their next fix of those mouth-watering chocolate cakes, those heavenly pies, with a fruit for every colour in the spectrum (and some for I.R. and U.V.)

"But all is not lost. I have proof that they did this, and all I need to do is take it to the local authorities. I must give it to the authorities.” Said the ding Donald.

“I am the authorities” I told him. “where is your proof that they did this to you.”

“it is behind the…the…” he said, and spoke no more, as his head jerked back, spattering me with blood. I looked up just in time to see a shadowy figure disappearing in the distance.

I cursed the fates, for my tormentors yet again slipped through my fingers. I am jjohn q. smith, the über-detective, and I am on a mission, and cannot be stopped.