My mother is the antichrist

My mum took my Canadian Cream liqueur and baked it into a cake for Scarybear’s birthday. This goes against everything I thought we stood for—allowing good alcohol to burn off in a hot oven.

I loved that liqueur.

I loved that Canadian Cream.

I tried to stop her but she said, “Buddy, no one was drinking that liqueur.”

“But there was nothing wrong with it!”

She just shrugged. “It was taking up space in the fridge.”

“We could have drunk it!”

Another shrug. “I know. It smelled fine when I put it in the cake.”

“Then why? Why???”

“I just couldn’t work up an urge to drink it. And neither could your dad.”

“Why???”

“It might have had something to do with the branding, LB.”

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