855 Please Eat the Table

Nottingham Forest really managed to defend their title. This made someone feel as if he was sitting on a bed of needles.

While the Forest players were on leave, Carl Spicer was in a bad mood since he woke up. He had left his mobile phone switched off since the end of the game to prevent people from disturbing him. He knew that the moment he switched it on, he would receive many calls from the media asking him when he intended to make good on his promise.

Eating a table?

You've got to be joking! Is that something a human can eat? I'm not a mouse!

He had no time to regret his bet with Twain. He had to rack his brain to come up with a way to avoid the embarrassment.

He suddenly heard the doorbell.

A staff member from a logistics company was at the door smiling at him. "Mr. Carl Spicer?"

"Er, I am."

Spicer had not been awake for long, so he was not dressed properly. He had not shaved, so his tired look made him look a little haggard.

"Here's something for you."

The courier pointed to a large box behind him.

Spicer could already guess what was inside it. If Twain had lost the league title, he would have also received a package at his door. The only difference would be that the sender would be different.

A trace of anger instantly flashed over his face. He wanted to deny it, "Er, I'm not…"

Before he could finish, more than a dozen reporters armed with hand-held cameras and video cameras popped out from the bushes and started to take pictures of him.

Someone held a microphone and shouted at him, "Mr. Carl Spicer! Let's talk about your thoughts! Nottingham Forest has won the title…"

That bastard Twain!

Spicer cursed him ferociously in his heart. He was not a fool. He knew this courier and the reporters who ambushed him were all arranged by Twain, who just wanted to embarrass him.

He could not deny his identity now.

The courier was shocked by the reporters who popped out of nowhere. He turned to look at the people behind him and smiled. He was a football fan and knew about the bet between Carl Spicer and Tony Twain.

"Mr. Carl Spicer, please sign here." He tried to keep a straight face as he talked to Spicer.

Since denying his identity did not work, Spicer could only sign his name on the delivery order.

The courier had no intention of helping Spicer move the box into the house. Spicer had hoped that he would do that so that the media members there would not be able to watch the show.

Unfortunately, the courier left after receiving the signed document.

Spicer had no choice but to move the box himself. He quickly realized that the box was too heavy to be moved by him alone. After a few tries, he looked at the reporters watching the show around him, knowing that these people would never help him.

"Why don't you open it, Mr. Spicer?" a reporter loudly asked.

"If it's a table, it would be more convincing to eat it here."

"If it's not a table, we're not interested to waste our time here either."

Spicer had an uncertain look on his face. The sender's name on the delivery order. What else could Tony Twain send him other than a table?

The reporters who only wanted to see chaos kept egging him on to open the box in front of them.

Spicer finally gave up. He could not escape this anyway…

He slowly opened the package. What shocked him was that the first thing that he saw was not a wooden or a metal table. It was a huge cake box.

What is this?

Spicer looked at the box, which had a faint scent of cream, in a daze. The reporters also did not expect the box to contain something like that.

Could Twain have custom-made a huge cake for Spicer?

Spicer had already thought of something. He opened the top of the cake box and laughed as he saw what was inside. It was just as he expected.

It was a life-sized chocolate cake of a table, which still had the smell of cream and chocolate in the morning air.

Even the reporters standing 10 steps away could smell it. They looked at each other as they did not understand what was going on. If Tony Twain wanted to embarrass Spicer, why would he send an edible "table" to make things easy for Spicer?

Could they have decided to take advantage of this opportunity to reconcile their differences?

That was too boring!

Ferguson had already retired. Wenger had the intention to retire. Mourinho had not returned since he left. Now, Carl Spicer and Twain were going to reconcile their differences. Were they trying to put the reporters out of a job?

Carl Spicer did not care about the feelings of the reporters. He was feeling happy. He was as happy as when he cleared his bowels that had been constipated the whole night early in the morning. He took a whiff of the tempting scent of the cake and suddenly felt hungry. It was time for breakfast.

"Ha, it's a very nicely baked cake!" Spicer laughed and rubbed his hands. He looked at the reporters and asked, "Care to join me for breakfast, my friends?"

The reporters all shook their heads with an unfriendly look on their faces. This was not what they had hoped to see. They could only wait for Spicer to have a bite of the "table," take a picture of that and leave. They did not have the mood to have breakfast with him.

Spicer was in no hurry. He returned inside to get some milk. He tied a napkin around his neck and reappeared with a fork and knife.

"What a pity… I can't finish such a big cake myself…" He even acted sympathetically with an expression that made the reporters grit their teeth in anger. He was taking his undeserved gains for granted.

Just when he was about to enjoy the cake, he realized that there was a card next to it. It was hand-written by Tony Twain.

Dear Mr. Carl Spicer,

This is the best chocolate cream cake. I hope you'll like it. I wish to take this opportunity to show you my token of goodwill and reconcile our differences from the past. We'll just be giving those reporters a show to watch if we continue to be at each other's throats. Can you see them? They should be just in front of you, right? Look at their eyes. You have the same look in your eyes when you're at a circus looking at the clown, don't you? We do not need to sacrifice ourselves to entertain them. Finally, I would like to apologize for my comments toward you in the past.

Your dearest friend, Tony Twain.

Tony Twain was actually backing down!

This was sensational news. Spicer had already decided to flaunt this on his show. Even though he was forced to eat a "table," it would be good to take back some of his honor. At the same time, he was thinking, Maybe Tony Twain is not so bad after all.

Spicer wiped the card clean and placed it in his shirt pocket before starting to eat with a smile on his face. He cut a piece of cake and used his fork to put it in his open mouth.

The reporters were cooperative as they took out their cameras and video cameras to take pictures and videos of him "eating a table."

When the reporters were done, Spicer put the cake into his mouth. He gave a thumbs-up as he chewed and raised his eyebrows. Even though he could not speak, he used his expression and actions to praise the taste of the cake.

To prove that he was not faking it, he had a few more pieces before finally eating with his hands, sucking his fingers and licking the chocolate and cream off them when he was done. Next, he pointed with his index finger and played a fool in front of the reporters.

His expression was annoying. The reporters felt like they were pranked by Twain and Spicer. They were not interested in watching anymore. Since there was no show to watch, they packed up and left.

Carl Spicer was so pleased that he brought a chair over and continued to sit in front of his doorstep, eating the "table" that Twain sent him.

Looking at how satisfied he was, it was as if he wanted more reporters to take a picture of him.

※※※

The news of Carl Spicer eating a table as he promised appeared in the papers, on the news, and the internet in the afternoon. Everyone was shocked to see Spicer sitting at his doorstep enjoying the table cake. The news stated that it was specially sent by Tony Twain. The readers and viewers had the same question as the reporters. Why would Twain send an edible table to Spicer? Did he not want to see Spicer embarrass himself?

To this, the media had their own guess.

"Maybe Twain was tired of his spat with Spicer and wanted to take this chance to reconcile their differences."

It was a logical explanation that many people believed.

A small group of people insisted that Twain would never back down after winning a bet. In their minds, Tony Twain would always do bad deeds but still wanted to have a good reputation. If he had a hold over someone, he would only prepare to die a horrible death, with his body strung up on the city's gate and whipped for everyone to see. He loved to beat his opponent to the floor and give him a few hundred million stomps until his opponent was totally stomped into the ground.

That was why so many people hated him. He did not know how to give people a leeway. He was arrogant and full of himself. He considered everything to be beneath him and would become arrogant once he had the advantage. It was not easy for all these negative values to be concentrated on a single person. Yet, many people loved to follow him and liked him. The reason is simple: he always won. He had the right to be arrogant.

The fact that the "table eating" incident, which everyone had looked forward to, ended so pointlessly was quite boring.

This incident was not newsworthy, so the media decided to let go of Spicer. He could finally switch on his phone again without fear of being disturbed.

The first call he got after switching on the phone was from the producer of "Football Matters." He laughingly said, "It looks like you got away this time Carl. OK, enough about that. There's not much value in this anyway. Come in to prepare for tonight's live show. It's the end of the season special, so there are many things that you need to decide on."

Spicer hung up and left, feeling satisfied.

At the end of the season special, the champions were the stars of the show. Nottingham Forest would have a lot of air time since they were the champions. Luckily for him, Twain gave him a way out, so he was in a good mood. He decided to cut down on his mocking of the new league champion as a favor to Twain.

He decided to feign sincerity and congratulate Nottingham Forest, even though he planned to place the emphasis on the match between Arsenal and Manchester City since that was the match that ultimately decided the winner of the league title. The match between Forest and Sunderland had no suspense at all. There was nothing in particular worth paying attention to.

※※※

After what seemed like 300 rounds in bed with his wife in the afternoon, Twain fell into a deep sleep. He only woke up when the lights came on. Shania was making dinner in the kitchen.

She heard his footsteps. She did not turn back before saying, "Go watch some TV. Dinner will be ready soon."

"Do you need help?"

"No." Shania turned and smiled at him. "You have a good rest today. You don't have to do anything."

Twain smiled at her and left the kitchen. He entered the living room and switched on the TV.

Looking at the time, it was already almost 8 p.m.

This was the golden period of the TV station. All kinds of interesting programs were aired at that time. However, Twain was not interested in most TV programs. With the remote in hand, he aimlessly switched channels. If he saw something he vaguely had some interest in, he would stop to watch for a while before losing interest and switching again.

He switched channels for a while before his muddled brain finally cleared up a little.

He remembered something. It was something important.

He switched channel to Sky TV's sports channel.

He looked at his watch.

The TV was still showing advertisements. He had already forgotten about dinner.

※※※

If possible, Carl Spicer would have loved to put his job down and rush to the toilet. Even though it was already his eighth time there, he could not stop the desire to defecate that stemmed from the depths of his stomach.

The producer worriedly looked at the pained look on Spicer's face. He knew what was wrong with his host. He had food poisoning, but he had no choice. This was a live show. He could not possibly cancel it at the last moment just because the host had an upset stomach. Otherwise, the sponsors would have him for lunch.

"I'm fine, I'm fine…" Spicer continued to read the script.

The producer slapped him on the shoulders. "It'll start soon. You can go once more."

Spicer immediately rushed out.

There was a scream from a lady that got knocked down and Spicer's apologies coming from a distance outside the door.

When Spicer reappeared in front of the producer with an exhausted look on his face, the producer did not say anything. He merely patted him on the shoulders and indicated that it was time for him to go out.

Spicer suddenly had the look of a person entering his execution ground. He gritted his teeth and walked into the broadcasting room with determination.

While he hosted the show with his habitual sardonic smile, his lower body kept shifting around on the chair, and his stomach kept making gurgling sounds.

"Tony Twain's team won the league title as they aimed for… Their… Hmm… Their journey to the title was thrilling. Even after their match ended, the league title still belonged to Arsenal…"

The attentive audiences must have noticed that Carl Spicer, who was normally so good with words and spoke so quickly that he could overwhelm people who second-guessed him, was now especially slow with his speech. He tried his best to make it look like he was deep in thought. In the eyes of the audiences, they only felt that something was off with him. Yet, they could not tell what was wrong.

"Nobody expected Bendtner to score in the final moment to help Manchester City grab a draw with Arsenal. Nottingham Forest won the title dramatically… At this point, I have to congratulate Nottingham Forest…"

Spicer ground his teeth as he spoke. At the same time, he was scolding and screaming hysterically in his heart.

"Damn bastard! Tony Twain! What was in that cake that you gave me? You despicable, shameless, devil who deserves to go to the 18th level of hell and cut by a thousand knives! I curse you to never have any offspring!"

His stomach suddenly made another gurgling sound. Hearing that, Spicer's face turned green.

※※※

The audience watching would never know why Spicer was acting weird, but one man knew. He was happily laughing in front of the TV.

"What are you laughing at?" Shania asked. She quickly saw Carl Spicer on the TV screen.

"Oh, that man… Didn't you send him a table cake? Why do I get the feeling that he looks rather unwell?"

Twain laughed and explained to Shania. "Ah, I ordered that thing a few days too early. You know, there is no refrigerator big enough to keep such a big cake. The weather is also getting hotter…"

Shania understood. A smile appeared on her face as she watched the show. "Ah, you're evil!"

※※※

The next day, Carl Spicer furiously criticized Twain's despicable and shameless move in his column as he recounted his tragic experience of getting an upset stomach by eating expired cake.

However, not many people sympathized with him.

On the contrary, he became the new laughingstock of England.

There were even people leaving comments under his column asking if he shat his pants when hosting the show.

The evils that he brought upon himself were the hardest to bear…