I stared down at the scales, physically feeling the crease deepen between my brows as I stared in horror and disgust at the weight displayed.
I’ve put on fifteen pounds?!

Suddenly I couldn’t contain myself. With a scream I yelled, “Whoever invented calories is gonna get their face fucked with ice cream cake!”

Out came Google.
“It would be a man, wouldn’t it?” I hissed under my breath, still wrapped in only a towel. “Atwater… but he’s dead. Well, guess who’s gonna get creamed.”

It didn’t take too much more work on Google to find the ancestors of the calorie creator. Two Google hours and a portable freezer full of ice cream cake stowed in the boot of my car.
They won’t know what hit ‘em… and that’ll be ice cream cake.