Summary

A confrontation ensues when Putin attempts to take a young boy's cake at a bake sale, leading to a standoff involving the boy's father and various onlookers, including international figures.

Abstract

At a bake sale, Putin tries to take a young boy's cake, claiming it threatens his own. Despite the boy's confusion and protests, Putin disrespects the cake and the boy by spitting on it and ignoring the father's warnings. The father, who has a history of intervening in perceived injustices, threatens Putin but hesitates when Putin displays his Taekwondo black belt. The situation escalates as a British man and a German named Klaus express their support for the boy, with the British man inviting everyone to a gathering at his place. Eventually, Putin distracts the boy and makes off with the cake, leaving the boy and his father in a moment of defeat.

Opinions

The boy views Putin's actions as unjust and is confused by his reasoning.
Putin believes the boy's cake is a threat to his own and uses this as justification for his actions.
The father is portrayed as overly confident in his physical prowess but is hesitant to engage when faced with Putin's black belt.
The British man criticizes Putin's behavior and extends an invitation to a gathering, positioning himself against Putin's actions.
Klaus initially aligns with the boy and the British man but becomes disillusioned by the confrontation and leaves.
Putin is depicted as manipulative and willing to use distraction to achieve his goals, showing little regard for the feelings or rights of others.

Putin Steals A Young Boy’s Cake

War On Sugar

Putin and a young kid have set up their stalls for a bake-sale opposite each other. Putin walks over and tries to steal his cake.

Boy — Stop it, that’s my cake.

Putin — No, I want it. Mmm.

Boy — But you have so much cake of your own.

Putin —But -er, your cake is a threat to my cake, look at those candles, Aaaah. I am feeling unsafe in its presence. I must have it.

The boy stares at the 4 unlit candles and looks confused.

Boy — What are you talkin-

Putin — You talk back to me ? Fuck you.

Putin spits on the boy’s cake.

Boy — Why’d you do that, you’re ruining the cake for everyone.

Putin- If I can’t enjoy cake, no one will enjoy cake.

The boy calls for his father.

Boy — Dad, that bald man is trying to steal my cake.

His shredded dad walks towards the cake.

Dad — Stop right there.

Putin slowly moves his hands closer towards the cake.

Dad — I said stop.

Putin’s hands get closer.

The dad rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons his shirt; his biceps representing freedom and his pecks symbolizing liberty.

Putin doesn’t flinch.

Dad — I did 27,000 bicep curls this morning, I’ll beat the shit out of you if you touch the cake.

Putin touches the cake, starts licking the frosting.

Boy — Why aren’t you stopping him, dad.

Dad — I-er-uh- I wasn’t sure he was going to continue, my barrel-chested physique is usually enough to intimidate others.

Boy — When’s uncertainty ever stopped you, last week you ransacked the middle-eastern falafel joint because you thought they were hiding narcotics in the humous.

Dad — I stand by that decision, no regrets.

Boy — Then the week before you created a scene at the Vietnamese place when the manager said he pays all his staff equally.

Dad — The Maiter D’ is clearly the backbone of the restaurant experience, what the hell is even the point of having a somellier.

Boy — But why did you have to intervene, what was it good for?

Dad — sighs… absolutely nothing.

Boy — Say it again.

Dad — All right… You were right that time.

Putin meanwhile cuts out a slice for himself.

Dad — Woah… Woah..stop right there, why aren’t you respecting my authority?

Putin slowly unzips his jacket and reveals his black Taekwando belt strapped against his waist.

Dad — Yeah Imma head out.

Boy — Dad, you promised you’d protect me at any cost.

Dad — Ugh.. I did, didn’t I.

Dad gathers around his back-up.

Dad — Good Morning folks. A bald man is eating my son’s cake, and I am very angry about the events that have transpired. I am exempting myself from eating his cake for the time being, as should you… Go get 'em.

Everyone proceeds to clap for the dad.

Putin — God I am so mad right now! I could just — ARGH

Putin bites into the frosting mouth first.

The crowd boos Putin.

Putin — Stop booing, I will roundhouse kick all of you.

Putin unbuttons his shirt and holds up his black belt.

Dad (To his kid) — I’m a blackbelt myself but I’m undefeated 2 and 0 and would like to keep it that way, my previous opposition was at a much lower weight class.

A drunk and scruffy-looking British man stands up to Putin.

Britisher—I am appalled by your unremitting scrutiny on that boy’s pudding. I too will not be eating your cake, Putin. Also, I’m hosting a small gathering at my place in Downing Street later at 8. It’s BYOB for anyone wondering, no phones or cameras allowed.

Putin — 8 sounds wonderful, will bring some gifts of my own, if you know what I mean.

Everyone looks visibly concerned.

Putin — Oh no, this time around I was talking about vodka, I really need to work on my verbal communication.

Boy — So are you willing to communicate wit-

Putin — Shh, not with you.

Britisher — Ah yes, sounds splendid, see you then.

A German enters the conversation, let’s call him Klaus.

Klaus — I too join the movement.

Boy — Oh.. like… for real ?

Klaus- Wh- Of course, You thought I’d side with Putin?

Boy — Eh- I’ll be honest, I thought you’d go either way.

Klaus — I’ve been off sugar for like 77 years.

Putin — He’s just being holier than thou, he’d be all up in that shit if it were a sachertorte.

Klaus — No I wouldn’- You know what, I don’t need this, I’m outta here.

As Klaus walks off, Rajesh walks towards the boy and pats him on the back.

Putin glares angrily at Rajesh.

Rajesh hesitates and pats Putin in the back as well.

Dad — Rajesh … I thought we were buds.

Rajesh — I — eh- umm- bad stomach, gotta run.

Putin sighs in resignation.

Putin — You know what kid, let’s talk this out fair and square.

Boy — Okay, can I keep the cake?

Putin — No, but I promise not to dip my fingers in the frosting anymore as long as you stop arguing, close your eyes, turn around, walk away and tell your dad to take his friends and fuck right off.

Boy — But-

Putin — Hey, look over there.

Putin points in another direction, the boy turns around.

Putin lifts the cake and starts running away.

Putin — Hehe, stupid kid.