On the other side of town, Richard stormed into the bakery with his entourage and bought away every last cake on the shelves. Then, after snatching up a dozen blowguns, he charged towards the nursing home with fury in his eyes.
At that very moment, Baron Brooks was lounging comfortably in a deckchair, soaking up the sun and listening to an opera recording. Life without that pesky Richard was bliss!
Just as he reached for the glass of water on the side table, the door to his room burst open with a violent kick. Startled, he spilled water all over himself and was instantly enraged.
Whirling around, he saw Richard leading a posse with an air of vengeance, each one armed with cakes of all things.
Baron' brow furrowed in anger, "What's gotten into you, you old jerk? Why busting into my place with all those cakes?
Did Richard finally find his conscience and decide to throw him a birthday bash? He thought.
But that couldn't be right; his birthday was months away, deep in December.
Baron braced himself as suspicious picked his nerves. What kind of nasty trick was Richard planning this time?
Richard merely glanced at him dismissively. Without bothering with a single word, he turned to his bodyguards with an order, "Let 'em have it!"
Before Baron could even grasp what was happening, the guns were loaded with cakes and, with a loud "BANG!", and the pastries smashed precisely onto his bed.
Baron was furious as he bellowed, "Richard! Do you want to get yourself killed?!"
Ignoring his outburst, Richard stood in the center of the room, leaning on his cane with an air of unshakable calm.
The bodyguards fired the cakes one after another, and in moments, the walls, the ceiling, and the furniture in the room were all plastered with creamy shrapnel.
Baron was apoplectic, so much so that he nearly passed out.
All cake cannons were fired after a few minutes.
Richard nodded in approval on seeing the disastrous room, "Perfect! Just what I wanted!"
He had toyed with the idea of blowing up the nursing home, but despite his rashness, he couldn't muster the nerve. Ignoring the fact that he couldn't get his hands on a real bomb, the nursing home was state-owned. Blowing it up would spell the end for him.
He wasn't about to sacrifice himself just to teach Baron a lesson. It simply wasn't worth it.
So, after much thought, the cake assault seemed like an excellent alternative, and the result was indeed satisfying. The room would take days to clean.
Baron, gasping for breath, was covered in cake splatter; his clothes were a mess.
"Richard! I'll have your head for this!" he shouted and lunged forward, but his foot slipped on a piece of cake, sending him crashing to the floor with a pained "Oof!"
Lucky for him, his regular workouts saved him from a more serious injury.
Richard sneered at the sight, "That's a lesson for you, old man. If you dare to mess with my granddaughter-in-law again, not only your room will be blasted the next time, but the whole Brooks estate!"
He lifted his chin defiantly, "Don't believe me? Just try it and see if I dare to blow your place into the ground!"
Baron, whose face twisted in pain and anger, retorted immediately, "Nonsense! Nobody bullied your baby granddaughter-in-law. You're just stirring up trouble for no reason!"
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