Seriously, I Know the Duke of Pastries!

THURSDAY I went to New York City The Count de Sang was heading that way to meet some friends from afar. Soon we had a merry troupe, and off we were, to the city! Due to circumstances we decided to meet his friend for dinner. It was a lovely time of food and conversation...that is...until DESSERT! The waiter kindly told us that our dessert was only a short while away. We eyed the pastries behind the counter and began the difficult task of deciding which to try. I picked mine and soon enough we were ready to order, that's where things got weird. The waiter smiled and left to bring us our desserts, however he returned with nothing in hand and only a frown on his face. “It seems the pastry chef is withholding pastries from this table, he simply won't allow it.” I nearly collapsed from the shock, here we were, so close to such wonderful pastries and now our way was thwarted by a PASTRY CHEF! We questioned the waiter and he only shook his head. “I can't give a good explanation, perhaps the chef himself can describe why...” And it was then that I understood, for before us stood the pastry chef, but he was no unknown pastry chef but instead the world famous G. Godfrey Grotesque the VIII! Indeed this fiend of a chef was world renowned for his sugary delights but to me he was known as the cousin of G. George Fatts the third and a second cousin once removed to the sworn enemy of Count de Sang...”Jailor Bob...” The count muttered. He flashed us a devilish grin. “What are you to do without a proper end to your meal? Your stomachs shall never let you rest, and you shall be drawn to this place forever, seeking a meal but truly seeking the dessert that you never received. It shall be a perpetual craving in your gut!” He exclaimed terribly. “Such a thing is madness and torture dear sir, please let us have our pastries, we have done nothing to you.” He shook his head fiercely. “I do this not because the two of you have grudges against my kin but simply because I'm THAT MEAN!” It was all over, we could do nothing against this wicked chef of pastries. It was then that our waiter appeared below the balcony on which we had been sitting. “Here, pastries della awesome!” With that he sent up six of the baked items. We ate them quickly, the pastry craving subsided and now rays of awesome filled the restaurant. G. Godfrey could do little against it and shrieked as the sheer force of awesome cast him far away, out of the restaurant, out of the city, out of the state of New York altogether. In fact we had done such a service to the restaurant that they almost decided to give us our meal on the house...almost...