It’s My Birthday

It’s my birthday. I’m 21 years old today. Therefore, I expect 21 birthday cakes on my doorstep by the end of the day, or else I’ll burn down Australia. You’ve been warned.

Here are some examples of acceptable cakes:

Delicious.

This gives new meaning to the pet name “Baby Cakes” while also supporting abortion via baking children in an oven, Nazi-style.

For those of you who don’t know what The Human Centipede is, allow me to scar your mind forever. Watch this.

This beautiful cake portrait of a dead pirate is marvelously accurate. A worm is eating through his dead ear and there are sprinkle maggots all over his face. Also, someone tied him up with licorice rope and left a horrible, bloody wound across his face, particularly, his hockey puck eye. He must have been a poor pirate. Rich pirates use wooden eyes, not hockey pucks. Perfect for small children’s birthday parties.

This is my #1 choice for a birthday cake. Sheer class.

I don’t know exactly when Harry Potter turned into a woman, but we all saw it coming.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE GROUND

Why thank you.

Pedobear, your molestation skills are really slipping. “Herd”? Really? No nine-year-old who’s recently passed a spelling test is going to fall for that.

No one who is still alive is named Eunice. Stop celebrating your dead, chain-smoking grandma’s birthday. It’s creepy.

A delightful homage to Elvis.

And finally, the Crème de la Crème of birthday cakes:

Mmmm.