OFFENSIVE BY DESIGN

OFFENSIVE BY DESIGN

By:  Randy Gillis

 

Patricia walked in the back door and I froze in place.  She paused only for a second and walked to the counter that separates the dining room from the kitchen, pulled out one of the bar stools and sat down, waiting for my explanation.  You see, the counter, the stove, the sink, basically every surface in the kitchen was covered with flour, baking pans, Pam, mixing bowls, measuring cups and sugar. I was wearing the modified chef’s outfit that I picked up at the fetish store.  I say modified in that I was wearing pants under the apron.

“Before you get pissy,” I explained, “just listen.”  She smiled pleasantly and waited.  “I’m just trying to come up with some signature dishes for our new business venture.”  “Ooh,” she cooed, “starting a business at our age.  Sounds promising.”  The sarcasm dripped from her lips like venom.  “If you’d let me explain, you will see that this is what we’ve been waiting for,” I boasted. 

I got the idea while reading about the baker that is being sued for discrimination because she wouldn’t make a cake for some piece of shit….uh…I mean a future valued customer, who wanted something gay-bashing written on it.  Probably something that ends with ‘in Jesus’ holy name I pray.’  Then BAM!  The idea hit me like a chocolate-covered, hate-filled doughnut. 

“What if we offered to create the offensive desert of choice?” I asked.  “I mean, anything goes.  Whatever vile, sick, disgusting thought that oozes from the darkest corner of the spiritual bowels and can be made with icing.”  Patricia scrunched her nose (her thinking face) and after a thoughtful moment, “Aren’t there already bakers who specialize in that sort of thing?” she asked.  “Yes,” I conceded, “but they’re mostly about penises and vaginas.  I’m talking about something much more hardcore.”

I drew in a big breath and started my sales pitch.  “Okay,” I began, nervously.  “The infomercial would go something like this.”  Patricia leaned forward and, being his usual rude self, my gay demon Kyle pops up from hell and takes the stool next to Patricia.  “This, I’m dying to see,” Kyle huffed.  “I’m choosing to ignore you,” I snapped.  Patricia looked around confused, as Kyle is my gay demon, I'm the only one who can see him.  “Who are you talking to?” she asked.  “Uh, no one,” I answered, cutting my eyes to Kyle.

“I’m thinking that we go straight for the kill with this.  No sugar coating.”  I over exaggerated a wink causing Kyle and Patricia to roll their eyes.  It was great!  “We cut straight to the chase with something like, ‘have you been turned away by bakeries trying to hamper your God-given freedom of speech?  Are you tired of having your pettiness impeded by prejudice?  Just bring your dark thoughts, attention whoring, and desperate compensating for personal powerlessness to Offensive by Design!  The bakery that never says no.” 

“I’m liking what I hear so far,” Kyle snorted.  Patricia was a bit slack-jawed.  “You know,” she finally conceded, “this might actually work.”  I had them.

I next laid out some possible advertising strategies.  And since everyone hates someone, the world is our target market.  I explained that hate (or righteous indignation, or god’s love, however you want to justify it), doesn’t have to be a bitter pill.  It can now be a delicious pastry.

CAMPAIGN 1:  The Anti-Gay Market:  Let’s be frank.  Do you hate fags?  Then come on in, and let us show you our entire fag-bashing line.  We have cakes (made from the freshest ingredients including farm-fresh eggs) shaped in the form of the AIDS virus, ready for the poorly translated bible verse of your choice, or pearls of wisdom from your very own mind.  And if your hate isn’t particularly bible-based, why not try sinking your teeth into one of our delicious butthole Bundt cakes (heavy on the chocolate drizzle? No problem!).  With as many possibilities to offend as there are perversions in bathhouses, we dare you to be filthier.

CAMPAIGN 2:  The Anti-Christian Market:  You know’em, you hate’em, so let us help you express it.  For starters, how about our ‘Ménage a Trinity’ sheet cake (our biggest seller) featuring the Father, the Son, and the holy ghost involved in a daisy-chain with some backdoor finger action thanks to our famous cinnamon sticks!   Homosexuality, blasphemy, incest, and necrophilia, all on one delicious desert.  And that’s just the tip of this holy iceberg.

CAMPAIGN 3:  The Anti-Muslim Market:  Islam.  Who doesn’t hate it, right?  Thumb through our professionally designed Islam chewing cornucopia of incendiary classic confections. We’ve got more images of Allah than that blogger has lashes left on his sentence.  Allah as a top (2 images), Allah as a bottom (46 images), Allah as a power bottom (736 images). 

“That’s my favorite one!” Kyle screamed out, referring to the ‘Allah as a power bottom.’ I’ll explain to him later that it isn’t complementary in this particular context.   

“And that’s just 3 campaigns off the top of my head.  There are endless opportunities for expansion,” I explained.  “We could create lines for women haters, for men haters, for Twilight haters, for Harrison Ford haters (of which there are none and if there were we would refuse them service because even I must draw the line somewhere) and for people not hampered by menstruation when satisfying sexual needs (ever since Googling the phrase ‘vampire Popsicle’ I’ve been dying to bring it to life….with red velvet cake mix!”).

And that doesn’t even include racial and national hatreds.  I, personally, would love to introduce the phrase ‘dyke-jumpers’ to an American audience because frankly, the Dutch are annoying and because it has cross-over potential with the lesbian haters.

Patricia bolted to her feet after what was an apparent epiphany.  “I’ve got it!” she exclaimed.  “A perfect slogan.  ‘Put your hate on our cake, take it home and….EAT IT!”  She then stormed to her room.  “What a dyke-jumper,” Kyle huffed. 

I can understand why Patricia wouldn’t be completely on board with this, but she didn’t have to be so offensive about it.