The smoke gathered around the smell of cooling bodies. Everything from the last toe to the last finger laid in silence, save for the clattering of forks. Two men sat in fortified thrones on a marred hill in a scared valley, oblivious to the destruction without forgetting its cause. They licked the frosting from their fingers, ignoring the taste of blood they had been taught to crave.
One glanced at the other. "Good cake, isn't it?"
"It is." The other replied, as he twiddled the fork in his fingers. "Why did we never share our cake before?"
The first thought it over as he took another bite. "I suppose it was selfish impulse."
The second stood up with a start. "Are you calling me selfish!?"
Then the first had to stand up, to defend his honor. "You dare question my judgement?"
Finally, they both threw down their forks, and abandoned their cake. And so the war began again. The two men never discovered why they never stopped to have two peaceful slices of birthday cake before.
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