We’re pleased to announce the winners of the March WWWC: Kristin Murdock and Susan Hobson. We couldn’t decide between their entries, so this month’s is a jointly awarded prize. Read Kristin’s entry below, and find Susan’s here.

Kristin’s ‘Revenge Takes the Cake’ is a rollicking poem about baking, competition, and sabotage.

Revenge Takes the Cake

Barbra Foster’s kitchen dresser was lined with ribbons blue.
When it came to cooking contests, she knew them through and through.
While some called it festival madness – a glut of bread and spongy cake –
the entire town of Balsa agreed there was nothing she couldn’t bake.
‘I get it from my mother,’ said Barbra, rosy cheeked.
‘A shame she died at 55, before she really peaked!’
Twenty years more than Mum now, Barb knew what was the go,
and how to win (yes, yet again) the Balsa Rural Show.

With such a reputation of perfect scones and pie,
of course the local paper sent a writer by.
Barbra plastered on a smile, her ample chest puffed out,
serving up a cake so fluffy, the girl could have no doubt
that the legend local baker, such a modest, humble lass,
could put her cooking where her mouth was (to brag would just be crass).
Choccy lipped and stomach full, the journo left with cheer,
assuring Barb she’d win once more – her 22nd year.

‘I’m still not happy with who’s the judge,’ said Barb, her grey head shaking,
she’d telephoned her good friend Peg, in a rare break from the baking.
‘I’ve never liked old Wally Twiss; he smokes and drinks flat beer.
‘So I’m planning to retire, once I win the show this year.
‘And he doesn’t like me either, that pompous, balding man!’
‘Win him over with your pies,’ said Peg, ‘You know you surely can!’
So, affixing her pink apron, flour dusted on her hands,
Barb attempted cockles and tampered with friands.
In the middle of this frenzy, the flour bag ran dry.
With only one more day to go, she thought she may just cry!

Ducking down the aisle of the Balsa General Store,
Barb sought out the flour and found what she’d come for.
But as she clasped the packet and placed it in her trolley,
a voice came from the aisle next door – no mistaking it was Wally.
‘Barb Foster’s had her way too long, she dominates the show.’
‘It’s time another won the prize, old Barbra has to go.’
Next voice was Joyce Smithers, all coy as it filtered through.
‘Oh Wal, you are a joker! Did you know I’m cooking too?’
That horrid, balding little man, Wally bloody Twiss,
Barb hadn’t liked him anyway and now he’s spouting this!
Barb jammed her shopping in her bag, leaving them behind,
but passing by a bag of nuts, a spark flashed in her mind.

Come Balsa Show Day, Barb stacked the cakes, she really had to dash.
But not before she cleared a space for her expected new blue sash.
In the wooden hall, Barb’s fluffy cake was the last one in the row.
Joyce smiled across the room, her pearly teeth on show.
And quick to take her chance, as Joycie chatted to her niece,
Barb stuck a nib of peanut in Joyce’s sliced off taster piece.
Wal was always on about his allergy, as if it really mattered …
More important than his whining was her reputation stayed unshattered.
She met Wally’s smarmy smile with a smug one of her choice
waiting for his reaction when he took some cake from Joyce.

It happened fairly quickly; Barb quite sure he overreacted.
He sputtered, fell, then turned quite blue, his pupils were contracted.
Apparently, it was touch and go, Barb later heard from Peg.
‘Don’t be daft,’ Barb chuckled. ‘These doctors love to pull your leg.’
She’d rearranged her ribbons, spread them out to hide the space
In spite of all the nonsense, a smile stretched Barb’s face.
While the end of Balsa cooking comps was one thing this drama cost,
although she may not have won again, Barb also hadn’t lost!

This is the second time Kristin has won the WWWC.
Read her first winning entry, ‘The Broken Pedal’, here.