And ye shall ride your unicycle through the village of the shadow of death, but ye shall have no fear. For I will be watching over you, at least in between bites of cupcakes. Let it be said that The Lord, Blessed Be He, really likes sprinkles on his cupcakes.

Actually, come to think of it, I command ye to bring me giant cupcakes, measuring at least 50 cubits high and weighing more than a pile of lepers in February. Of these cupcakes there should be at least five, for the glucose levels of the Lord are dangerously low and only an immediate chocolate icing infusion — the kind to be found on cupcakes — can save your God from the fiery pits of hell.

And when you bring me cupcakes, ye shall be blessed with ground nuts and a bounty of pigs. And let it be written: lo, on this day, the Lord did grant us pigs in exchange for humongous cupcakes.

And it was good.

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