I remember thinking how clever it would be to make a cake like this statue as I scrubbed along the scales, suds streaming down the sharp fangs. When the giant reptile’s eye suddenly flicked open and focused on me, soapy water collecting on its snout, I tried to scream but it lodged in my throat. I frantically climbed up in the window, hoping the damn thing couldn’t jump. The bathroom door opened and a child wandered in. This won’t do. I jumped down again and before the crocodile could rise up from the bathtub and strike, I had my arms around its throat, my right thumb in the crease of its jaw. I knew I was going to lose my finger but I had to save the child. I held on while it thrashed its body with all its might and child ran from the room. And then the crocodile began to shrink in my arms and the pain in my thumb subsided. I’d keep it after all.
Still think it would be a neat cake.
