Home Sweet Home

"This is AMAZING," yelled Goldie, who had somehow gotten herself launched out of a sugar spaceship's exhaust port and was now orbiting the top tier at alarming speed.

Hammy grabbed a satellite — a tiny silver fondant UFO — and used it as a surfboard to ride the gravitational pull of a teal planet with gold rings.

"I can see the bottle," she called. "It's on the spaceship."

"Great. I'll just FLY THERE with my LEGO ARMS that DON'T BEND."

They managed, eventually, through a complicated series of planet-bouncing, satellite-surfing, and one deeply undignified moment where Goldie got stuck headfirst in a crater made of pink bubblegum fondant.

*TAP.*

*WHOOOOSH.*

---

## Chapter 7 — Skeleton Pirate Showdown

They knew immediately that something was different about this one.

It was dark. Not fun-dark, like a surprise party. *Dark*-dark. The kind of dark that has teeth.

The cake rose around them in tiers of deep ocean blue and cracked, weathered brown, like the hull of a ship that had been underwater for centuries. Skeleton pirates clung to the sides — full sugar skeletons in tiny pirate hats, their bony fingers clutching gold coins and pearl necklaces.

A wrecked ship jutted out from the middle tier, its planks encrusted with barnacles made of dark chocolate. And at the very top, a treasure chest overflowed with gold, guarded by a skull wearing a captain's hat, beneath a black Jolly Roger flag that *actually fluttered* despite there being no wind.

![A dark and dramatic pirate shipwreck cake in deep blue and brown, with skeleton pirates in hats, a wrecked ship, treasure chest overflowing with gold coins, skull and crossbones flag, and pearl chains draping between tiers](story-images/14-ch7-skeleton-pirate-shipwreck--pirate-deepsea-blue-generated-1760991668964-v2-1760991668976.png)

"Okay," said Goldie. "I don't like this one."

"You asked for adventure."

"I asked for *fun* adventure. This is *skeleton* adventure. That is a *different category*."

A skeleton pirate turned its sugar skull toward them and grinned. (It was already grinning, being a skeleton, but it somehow grinned *more*.)

"GIVE US THE RECIPE," it rattled, "FOR THE PERFECT SWISS MERINGUE BUTTERCREAM."

Hammy blinked. "What?"

"We've been trapped in this cake for WEEKS," wailed another skeleton, dramatically draping itself over the shipwreck. "All we have is fondant. Do you know what it's like to eat nothing but fondant for weeks? DO YOU?"

"It's terrible," added a third skeleton, who was sitting on the treasure chest eating a gold coin and looking miserable. "The gold coins are white chocolate. I'm *so tired* of white chocolate."

"Okay," said Hammy, rolling up her tiny apron sleeves. "You want buttercream? I'll give you buttercream."

She climbed the shipwreck using a pearl necklace as a rope. She commandeered the treasure chest, dumped out the gold coins, and used it as a mixing bowl. Goldie found a skeleton's arm bone that worked surprisingly well as a whisk.

Thirty minutes later, every skeleton pirate on that cake was happily eating fresh Swiss meringue buttercream out of gold coin cups, and the Jolly Roger flag had been replaced with a tiny banner that read "THANK YOU CHEF HAMMY."

The bottle was in the treasure chest, underneath the last gold coin.

"Ready?" said Hammy.

"More than ready," said Goldie, who had buttercream in her hair and a skeleton hat on her head.

*TAP.*

*WHOOOOSH.*

---

## Chapter 8 — The Zombie Unicorn

They landed in silence.

That was the first bad sign. Every other cake world had been *alive* — music, movement, color. This one was still. Gray concrete walls stretched behind a single-tier cake that sat alone on a silver board.

It was a unicorn cake. Or it had been. Once.

The horn spiraled upward in tarnished bronze. The ears were cracked, edges curling like dead leaves. Where the eyes should have been, two dark hollows wept trails of chocolate ganache that ran down the white fondant like tears. The surface was cracked and peeling, revealing dark chocolate cake beneath — as if the unicorn was shedding its own skin.

Piped roses in gray and brown clung to the top like a funeral wreath. And at the base, in dripping red letters:

**"Happy 1st Birthday"**

![A haunting zombie unicorn birthday cake with a tarnished bronze horn, cracked fondant revealing dark chocolate underneath, weeping chocolate ganache eyes, gray-brown dried roses, and Happy 1st Birthday in dripping red letters at the base](story-images/15-ch8-zombie-unicorn-birthday--generated-1761503781230-v7-1761503781241.png)

"This is the cursed one," whispered Hammy. "The cake that was never picked up."

Every bakery has one. A cake so beautiful, so lovingly made, that when no one came to claim it, the cake just... *kept going*. It kept existing. But existence without purpose does strange things, even to cake.

"It's still a cake," said Goldie, her usual bravado quieter now. "Under all that creepy stuff, it's still vanilla sponge and buttercream."

Hammy walked up to the zombie unicorn. She placed her tiny bear-paw hand on its cracked surface.

"Hey," she said softly. "Someone should have come for you. I'm sorry they didn't."

The unicorn's ganache tears slowed. The cracks stopped spreading.

"But you're still beautiful. You're *supposed* to be a little broken. That's what makes you interesting. Smooth fondant is boring anyway."

The bottle appeared in the unicorn's single remaining ear, balanced like an earring.

Hammy took it gently.

"Happy birthday," she told the cake. "Even if it's late."

*tap.*

*whoooosh.*

---

## Chapter 9 — Home Again at the Cafe

They landed on the counter with a soft *thump*.

The cafe was exactly as they'd left it. The espresso machine hummed. Morning light crept through the windows. The faint smell of cinnamon wrapped around them like a hug.

![Hammy and Goldie back together on the counter, the magic bottle between them, looking like they've been through something](story-images/16-ch9-back-on-counter-with-bottle--PXL_20260312_180935349.jpg)

"Did that actually happen?" asked Goldie.

"We have buttercream in your hair and you're wearing a skeleton pirate hat," said Hammy. "So... probably."

![The duo confers closely, Hammy leaning over Goldie and the bottle, clearly debriefing after their wild adventure](story-images/17-ch9-duo-debriefing--PXL_20260312_180936581.jpg)

Goldie looked at the bottle. The bottle looked back. (Bottles don't have eyes, but this one had *energy*.)

"Same time tomorrow?" asked Goldie.

"Same time tomorrow," said Hammy.

![Hammy and Goldie stand triumphantly together — partners, adventurers, bakers extraordinaire](story-images/18-ch9-triumphant-together--PXL_20260312_180942300.jpg)

They put the bottle back in its spot between them. Hammy adjusted her chef hat. Goldie cracked her LEGO knuckles (she didn't have knuckles, but she made the sound with her mouth, which was almost the same thing).

The first customer of the day pushed open the door. The espresso machine roared to life.

And somewhere, out in the wide world, on the counter of a peculiar little cafe that smelled like cinnamon and wonder, a beautiful rosetta bloomed in the foam of a perfect lavender latte.

![A perfect latte with a delicate rosetta leaf pattern in the foam](story-images/19-ch9-rosetta-latte--PXL_20260220_223112214.jpg)

Meanwhile, in the back office, someone had left three laptops open, a tablet propped up, and a coffee getting cold — the unmistakable signs of *planning the next adventure*.

![A cafe workspace with two laptops and a tablet arranged on a wooden table, screens glowing, with a coffee cup in the middle — the command center for future cake expeditions](story-images/20-ch9-command-center-laptops--PXL_20260214_173514236.jpg)

---

## Epilogue — The Bear in the Foam

That evening, after the last customer had gone and the chairs were stacked, the barista made one final latte.

They didn't mean to. Their hands just moved. The milk poured itself. And when they looked down into the cup, a face looked back.

Round ears. Big eyes. A little nose.

A bear.

![A latte with bear-face latte art — round ears, eyes, and nose formed in the foam, staring directly at the viewer](story-images/21-epilogue-bear-face-latte-art--PXL_20241204_190823767.jpg)

The barista blinked.

The bear in the foam winked.

And if you listened very, very carefully — past the hum of the refrigerator and the tick of the clock and the gentle settling of a building at rest — you could hear the faintest sound:

A tiny chef's hat being adjusted.

A LEGO minifigure cracking imaginary knuckles.

The soft *clink* of a glass bottle being placed back between two very small, very brave friends.

Tomorrow, they would bake something impossible again.

---

*And somewhere, on a counter you can't quite see, in a cafe you can't quite find...*

![Hammy stands guard at the end of the day, pan in hand, looking out over her domain — ready for whatever comes next](story-images/22-end-hammy-standing-guard--PXL_20260128_173959062.jpg)

*...they always do.*

---

**THE END**

---

*A LavenderLandia Production*
*Written at 4:47 AM, obviously*
*No fondant was harmed in the making of this story*
*(The skeleton pirates are doing fine, thank you for asking)*

![Hammy and Goldie, one last look — the world's smallest baking duo, standing tall on the edge of everything](story-images/23-end-final-look-duo--PXL_20260409_145836762.jpg)

The Grand Adventures in LavenderLandia