No idea why, but dreamed of making red velvet cakes.

I got so I could bake them right in decorative tins, and they sold like hotcakes. Everywhere I looked, people were just opening up in the tins and scooping out handfuls of cake- in cars, in businesses, even in airports. The TSA had signs that regulated the amount of cake you could bring on board with you. The sign of the times was snowdrifts of red velvet cake crumbs, everywhere you looked.

I was making enough money that I was able to hire all my friends to distribute, or one job or another. Tony Soprano tried to muscle in on the business, and I shot him right in the face. The FBI came and tried to give me protective custody, put me in witness protection, and I just laughed, and had my bodyguards- Tam and Caleb- escort them to the door.

Maye I should lay off the extra guacamole.