"What…" Washington instantly lost his train of thought trying to form the right words. "Just…what the hell is this? What are you doing?"

"Making cupcakes!"

"I…well, I can see that, but…what I can't discern here is why. Or that what you're making actually constitutes cupcakes."

"Please don't use big words. You know I don't like it because I can't tell if you're being mean to me, and I don't like it when you're mean to me."

Washington brought a hand up to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to focus. "Okay. I'm sorry. I was just wondering why it smelled so badly in here and I guess I have my answer."

"Would you like a cupcake?" Caboose finally looked up from the table and proudly held out a cupcake sleeve. Something dripped down the side and Washington automatically recoiled.

"Uh—"

"I made them for Sheila! She has been working extra hard lately and I thought she would like a treat."

"Did anyone help you with these?..."

"Nope!" His tone was that of a proud six-year-old and Washington begrudgingly took the cupcake from him, resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose.

The cup was full of something solid, he couldn't quite place what it was, but it was definitely covered in motor oil because that was the brownish-blackish stuff leaking down the side. He brought it up to inspect it more closely and realized there were nuts and bolts sinking into whatever the solid part was. After sniffing it, he realized it was dirt. Nuts and bolts were slowly sinking into oil-covered dirt cupcakes.

"That's about right," he muttered, looking back at Caboose, who was happily decorating a different cupcake with a slightly larger gear sticking out of the top. "So, who are these for again?"

"Sheila!"

"Do we…have a Sheila here? Do you mean Donut, by chance?"

"No, Sheila! She is the lady in the tank," Caboose explained patiently, as though it was a completely normal thing to explain on a regular basis.

"Okay, I've gotta run. I, uh, just got a call from…someone. Who isn't here. And they need me. Right away. Here you go, you take this." He handed back the cupcake and wiped his hands on a towel on the counter, backing out of the room with a smile on his face. Caboose gently set it down and continued decorating the other half-dozen cupcakes he'd made.

"Sheila is going to love the-se, and she will be so hap-py, and we will be so hap-py, and then we will go on a ri-ide, and blow up the Re-eds," he sang, carefully placing a small heart-shaped blob of bolts on one cupcake.

"Sheila! I brought you something! You are going to love them!"

"Oh, hello Caboose! It is so nice to see you again."

Caboose sat down on a small patch of grass next to the left tract of the tank, setting the plate on the ground. "How are you today?" he asked, watching the main gun turn down and towards him.

"Just lovely, thank you for asking. Yourself?"

"My self is doing well, and so am I," he said with a smile. He reached up and pat the side of the gun. "It is so nice out today, and I thought I would bring you a treat."

"How sweet of you! Perhaps we could go on a ride later and blow up some of Red Base?"

"Oh, you." Caboose reached over and carefully picked up one of the cupcakes, holding it up. "Here you go!"

"What is it, Caboose? Whatever you are holding is too small for me to scan properly."

"I made you cupcakes! And I put all your favorite things in them so you would enjoy them."

"Well, isn't that so nice of you! I wish I could eat them, but I cannot. I appreciate the thought, however."

"And that's what counts! Right? That's what you told me last time I made you a present."

"Yes, you are correct, Caboose. Now, shall we go fire my main cannon at the Red Base, just for fun?"

"Okay!"

Washington continued his patrol around the side of the base, securing the usual checkpoints. Something caught his eye and he went over to find a small plate with three cupcakes mostly still somehow intact, but Caboose was nowhere to be found and the tank was missing.

"Caboose?" he called out, glancing around. "Uh…tank? Sheila, I guess? Hello?"

Distant swears and shouts from the direction of the Red's base echoed across the canyon and he shook his head tiredly, beginning the unfortunately familiar trudge across the canyon.