When a baby monster doesn’t eat cake

It was in the days of Good King Freddie. Life was good, and Freddie was relaxing on his throne with his pseudo-Persian blue cat, Alexander, finishing goat’s milk and contemplating a visit to his animal collection, when his animal collection manager blew up in a condition. extremely distressed. “Calm yourself, dear friend,” said the King, “Whatever the problem, it is better to face it coolly and with a clear head.”

‘Goal, goal, goal …’

‘But what?’ Freddie asked solicitously.

‘It’s the last hatchling – the baby monster!’

Now it was Freddie’s turn to panic. ‘Oh, don’t tell me something’s wrong! I would hate for my pet to have suffered any harm. Has your mother stepped on you like last time?

“It’s not that, sir.”

Did his father burn him to ashes with a welcoming blast of the hot matter?

“It’s not that, sir.”

‘So what is that?’

“You will not eat the Marmorgugelhupf cake, Your Majesty.”

‘Oh that’s it,’ said Freddie, very relieved. Soon I will be there to feed him myself.

“No, no, you really won’t eat the cake, sir, and it won’t last long on woggalog milk alone.”

Don’t worry, friend. I am sure it will take the food from my soft royal hand.

Freddie accompanied his Menagerie Manager back to the royal monster hatchery. There was the newborn Hungarian woggalog staring at the fractured pieces of his broken eggshell and wondering how it had all come together. Nearby was a small bowl of Marmorgugelhupf cake crumbs soaked in woggalog milk. Freddie immediately began to convince the newborn to try some of the food. In his softer woggalog courtship voice, the king pushed the small bowl toward the calf, underscoring the need for early nutrition. “You won’t become a big healthy blast furnace like your father if you don’t eat your cake,” he urged. Then he jerked his hand away as a stream of stinging sparks struck his fingers. ‘Oh!’ Freddie yelled, ‘I didn’t know a baby could burn you.’

“Woggalog chicks only, sir.” They cannot be ignited, but their sparks are painful. Here, try some of this healing balm.

Freddie rubbed a copious amount of balm on his scorched skin and thanked the Menagerie Manager. “It seems you were right about our new friend not eating cake, but what are we going to do?”

“I would recommend consulting with the Employer and Minister of the Environment.”

‘Yes. Send him an email immediately.