Cakes, the final affront here.
These are the continuing ravages of the Bakeshop Wrecksurprise.
Cakeman's Log: The shop is back to normal now, after a mysterious ailment afflicted my crew.
It started when we were accidentally exposed to corigrAtUIAt ions.
Maybe the big sign should have tipped us off.
Anyway, we didn't realize the danger until our handwriting started to devolve.
I mean, what do you call this?!
"It's red, Tim."
"That was a rhetorical question, Leonard."
"Oh. Sorry, boss."
I thought the crew just needed time to warm up, but the more cake I gave them, the more the handwriting problem seemed to multiply.
Spatial skills also began to deteriorate:
Pretty soon, this was the best we could do:
(Tilting your head doesn't help. I tried.)
Suddenly, I remembered the corigrAtUIAt ions!
It. Was right. THERE. In. Front of our. EYES!
I ordered the crew to our decontamination facilities.
The loy quickly neutralized all the corigrAtUIAt - and even better, gave me an excuse to rip off my uniform.
The crisis averted, I'm happy to report the crew is back to our normal standards.
"How's this, Boss?"
"Perfect. And I LOVE your new red shirt."
Official commendations to Jill P., Beth F., Carrie B., Break'er Bikes, Carrisa, Shelby P., Laura A., and Alicia S. for doing the yeoman's work of finding these cakes. You made us positively beam by sharing these examples of IDIC (Infinite Diversity in Imperfect Cakes.)
And from my other blog, Epbot: