A tart is another word for a fancy cake. It is another word for a prostitute or a hooker.
A tart is made with a specific pastry.
The moon holds gravity, the moon is bright because of the sun’s reflected light.
The moon makes the tides ebb and flow, there was a mission to the moon.
There are craters on the moon, there are golfballs on the moon and a flag, it is dusty on the moon, there is a dark side on the moon.
The tart holds gravity, the tart is bright because of the sun’s reflected light.
The tart makes the tides ebb and flow, there was a mission to the tart.
There are craters on the tart, there are golfballs on the tart and a flag, it is dusty on the tart, there is a dark side on the tart.
A moon is another word for a fancy cake.
Moon is another word for a prostitute or a hooker.
A moon is made with a specific pastry.
Everything in Moderation or Nothing at All
They sold the tarts as a pudding, but to some people they were a miracle.
In the last twenty years people had become heavy, not in the physical sense but metaphorically. The mood had changed since “the bad bug” had encroached their lives and some struggled to go back to what was considered ‘normal.’
It had been noted and so the bakers began to bake, as bakers are wont to do. Just to try and cheer everyone up with sweets, as usually works. They tried to make a sponge that was lighter than air, both to make people feel light again as well as break the Air To Cake Ratio World Record.
It was a Tuesday when the breakthrough occurred, It wasn’t as awe inspiring as the day that they split the atom but when Kipling’s tart was tasted by the head baker he began at once to float up into the air unaided by anything other than having eaten the cake. People were rightly amazed. It was meant to make them feel better, lighter in spirit but not enough to make them actually fly.
At first it had been received well, people from all walks of life could afford this cake and so it was accessible to all. If you had it in moderation it was fine, you’d float for about 20 minutes and come back to earth feeling utterly relaxed. But, like with anything in life, people became greedy and wanted more. The more they ate the longer they’d stay up there. After some time there was a ban on advertising the tarts, and you were only allowed to eat them at certain times and in certain places. They could not be bought before 10am or after 10pm and the idea was that these restrictions would make people want them less.
Of course, this didn’t work. Grown-ups were grown-ups and could do what the liked and so the tart eating pandemic went on. Humans like to go from one problem to another and this tart ‘situation’ was no different to any other problem.
It was surprising when people began to change. First it was noted in the eyes, they became beady, black and piercing. Then, after a time, feathers; long white and grey feathers, began to grow around the arms and fingers and this went on till the body was covered. It was the beaks that came last, which somehow was expected. With a squawk the birds flew up into the air and were no longer human.
Scientists spent a long time on a vaccine for that one, names for the condition were thrown wildly. Tartitis or Tartid 20 were the most obvious but in the end Oculus 1 was chosen; because it was the eyes that went first.
In the end, no cure was found that could be relied upon and no vaccine either. The tarts were banned outright and made illegal overnight. The only thing said was that, if enough of any other food was eaten perhaps the effect of the tarts would eventually decline and a chance at humanity could be restored.
So when you’re next at the beach and the seagulls are attacking you for your chips, that’s what that’s really all about.
Laura Cooney is a writer and spoken word poet from Edinburgh. She has work published both in print and online, most recently in The Dirigible Balloon and voidspace zine. Her first collection Motherbunnet is due for release in September courtesy of Backroom Poetry. Find her on all socials @lozzawriting and on her blog at http://www.lozzawriting.com. When she’s not doing ‘lots of writing’ she’ll be found with her daughters, as close to the sea as poss.