The neighbor chimps, slightly jealous but mostly impressed, gave a respectful hum.

Momo, still holding his leg high with Barnaby the Auditor Mouse clinging on, felt his heart soar.

He hadn’t just avoided humiliation.

He had been validated.

His panic had been seen not as weakness, but as art.

He might not have won the bake-off with his actual cake (which, it turned out, he had in fact forgotten the timer for, and was indeed a little… over-done).

But he had won with his spirit.

He had captured the very essence of the baking process: the terror, the joy, and the utter, absolute ridiculousness of caring so much about a banana cake.

Momo slowly, carefully lowered his leg.

Barnaby the Mouse dismounted with a tiny, polite wave.

Momo still had his hand on his heart.

Not out of fear anymore, but out of immense pride.

And as he finally turned to run back to his cave to rescue his slightly-too-brown ‘Triple-Choc-Chunky-Monkey’, he knew one thing for sure.

He’d always remember to set the timer.

But he’d never, ever forget his true, dramatic artistic self.

Because in the end, it’s not just about the cake.

It’s about how much you panic while baking it.

And whether a mouse auditors your crisis. 🐭

The end