Behind The Camera

Sweet Rewards

A stream of light shining through the kitchen window drapes over the red-headed pastry-chef-in-training. He lays there, exhausted from a long night's job of decorating. He had passed out on the counter while attempting to tidy up - never making it back up to his room for a proper night's rest.

His eyes flutter open slightly, and he winces a bit due to the harsh sunlight. Dez rubs his eyes as he lifts his heavy head. A small puddle of drool had collected where his mouth had been on the counter. He wipes the side of his mouth to get rid of any that had clung there.

What time was it?

Dez's gaze lifts up to the wall clock. His eyes were still adjusting a bit, so he had to squint. "Noon..." he says to himself, calmly nodding. Suddenly, he freezes up. "Noon...NOON?! Oh no!" He starts to panic. He opens up the fridge to pull out all three layers of the cake he had made - ready to put them up on their stands. What he saw, or rather the lack of what he saw, nearly made him faint from anxiety. "WHERE'S THE CAKE?!" he shouts out.

He starts scampering around the kitchen, trying to find any evidence of it.

While digging through some lower cabinets, the fierce voice of his friend calls over to him.

"DEZ! What the heck are you doing?" Trish exclaims, more curious than upset.

"Trish! I can't find my cake anywhere!" he pauses, then looks over at her. In a serious tone, he asks her, "Do you think the cake bandits took it?"

Trish gives him a very confused, slightly concerned look. "Dez. The cake's in the car. Me and Didi loaded it in. We didn't wanna wake you, you seemed pretty tired. She said you didn't even get back to your room last night." She picked up two of the cake stands. "Now get ready, the Cake-Off is in an hour! And dangit, Freckles, take a shower. You're still covered in flour."

Dez chuckles. "Hehe, that rhymed," he says, staring up at nothing with a goofy smile on his face. Trish lets out an exhasperated sigh, then proceeds to take the stands out to Dez's mom's car. Dez does as told and rushes upstairs to get ready to head over to Shredder's Beach Club.

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"12:45!" Trish announces, as Dez continues to set up his cake and fix any last-minute issues on the frosting.

"Almost...And...Done!" Dez puts the icing tube down onto the table, then steps back to admire his work. "I did a pretty awesome job, if I do say so myself," he remarks proudly.

"Awesome job at what? Making a sad excuse for a cupcake? Heh-heeeee..." the laughter of his 'arch nemesis' shoots through Dez's ears.

"Chuck! Please tell me you didn't enter this contest. I thought we stopped with all the competing and stuff." Dez frowns. Chuck usually bested him at most things - and most of the time Dez would be able to get over it. Being in such a fragile state as he is in currently, Dez is ready to crumble in shame. Chuck shakes his head, smiling a bit.

"No worries, Red. I'm just here for the cakes and the cuties," he winks and clicks at Trish, who looks completely unamused. "Besides, I've grown up past the childish games."

"Yeah, yeah, Cowboy. Now shoo! You're making Dez here nervous," Trish shoves Chuck away.

"Ooo! Playing hard-to-get are we, Trishita Bonita?" Chuck waggles his eyebrows. His countenance suddenly changes to a fearful one after Trish gives him her fiery glare. He starts walking away, swiftly. "Maybe some other time then..."

Trish then turns to Dez. "Wow, no stupid wordplay. You two must be growing up," she scoffs, while fixing up Dez's cupcake-print tie. "Alright. The judges will start coming around soon. You okay, Dez?"