In Beverly Hills, California, we spotted Sprinkles Cupcakes, the O.G. gourmet cupcake pushers to the Beverly Hills elite.
That’s when I thought to myself, “they’re just cupcakes…or are they??”
Ok kids, cue up “Under the Bridge” and enter an alternate world of cake temptation…
Something didn’t smell right when we spotted the world’s first Cupcake ATM (a futuristic vending machine that dispenses cupcakes IRL).
A man stood weeping in front of it.
The screen read: OVERDRAWN.
I stood shocked at this man’s sad condition, and I decided not to go in. After all, how are normally self-controlled celebrities insane-o crazy for these little cakes? Maybe there are stone-ground quaaludes in the batter. Or a deal with the devil perhaps? All I knew was: If you eat at Sprinkles, you’re messing with dark forces.
But moments later, I crumbled. I couldn’t resist the sweet aromas drifting to the sidewalk, whispering in my ear, “just one little bite, then throw the rest away!”
Before I know it, money changed hands and I ate my ill-fated first cupcake…
The photo above: a ridiculously fresh chocolate cupcake cut in half with a scoop of ice cream in the middle (and there are mashed-up cupcakes in the ice cream). Dear Lord!!
That’s when I looked at my hand and noticed the spoon was blurry…and there were so many of them…
Oh boy, then I saw….Woah, man…the colors. These cupcakes are goooooooooooooooood.
So we get in our Rainbow Ride and moonbeam away from the boxes of cupcakes people.
We got home and I didn’t think I was feeling too good cause things seemed really goofy. I just wanted more cupcake.
Hey man, what are you looking at?
Oh, Sprinkles! What a coy name for something so dangerous. The Lemon Ginger cupcake should be registered as a Schedule IV narcotic!
Are those the hellfires of the underworld? No, it’s Madagascar Vanilla…right?
Over the next few weeks, I blew my entire savings at the Cupcake ATM…
Things went from bad to worse. I ended up living on the street with my new best friend, the kind and gentle Lunatic Lou.
I’d hit rock bottom. But my recovery started the morning I woke up next to her.
All I knew about her was that her name was Betty. And the note written on my hand. And the string on my finger.
Ok kids, that ends this after school special….
Moral of the story: They don’t put drugs in the batter, but Sprinkles is DANGEROUSLY GOOD.
Eat at your own risk, and ENJOY!