While dirty, grimy starving children crawl in the alleys picking through garbage piles for food, El Presidente draws his silver sabre and slices a gigantic cake, his generals and wealthy friends standing around him and clapping.
The applause was so loud, nobody heard the screams inside the cake.
Except El Presidente himself, who saw the blood on his sword and smiled.
The CIA agent had tried to seduce him. And failed.
Uniformed servants bring out plates with slices from another cake.
El Presidente declines a piece, preferring to lick the bloody frosting from his sword.
And smiling even wider.
“Delicious.”