I Want That Cake
I wish that lady would stop making so much noise. I come to this coffee shop to drink coffee and read a little before I have to go to work. I don’t want to hear her insipid, keening prattling on. Ok. I get it. Everyone in the coffee shop gets it. She’s getting married. Whoop-dee-freakin-do. I’m getting married too. You don’t hear me making big freaking deal about in front of a roomful of strangers. I swear to God if she keeps this up, she is going to rue this day. Rue it. Ok, first I’m going to turn around and give her one of my patented shut-the-hell up withering stares. That will show her, the stupid…
Hold up, just one second.
There’s cake.
On the table. A lot of cake. They have like boxes of cake over there. What are they doing with all that cake? More importantly, how can I get some of that sweet, sweet pastry in my mouth? Just look at it. They have square cakes, round cakes, thick cakes, thin cakes, cakes adorned with frosted flowers, cakes with classy red icing, cakes sitting on top of larger cakes. It’s a veritable cake wonderland on that table, and I want to be Alice to that cake wonderland. I’ll gladly dive through any number of rabbit holes to frolic freely amongst those frosted delights. And by ‘frolic freely amongst those frosted delights’ I mean eat the fuck out of that cake.
Ok. So how exactly do I go about getting at that cake? What I need is some sort of distraction; introduce a little chaos in the coffee shop. I could yell fire. I could call in some favors. I could convince a friend to come in and pretend to rob the place at gunpoint. Then when everyone’s running around screaming for mercy, I simply walk over and purloin some sweet, sweet pastry. No. None of my friends would do that. Even if they would, they would want a cut of the cake loot. I’m not really looking to share the cake with any of my jerk friends. Maybe I could throw a smoke bomb in the middle of the room. When the joint is filled with thick smoke, I calmly stride over, tuck the cake under my arm, and disappear into the world. That’s a good plan. That could work. Now, where can I find a smoke bomb? It’s not like I carry them around with me on a utility belt. Dammit. Why don’t I have a utility belt fully stocked with wonderful toys like smoke bombs? You know you think about buying some smoke bombs, but you always talk yourself out of it? “When am I ever really going to need a smoke bomb?” You say to yourself. So now, here I am in dire need of a smoke bomb with no damned smoke bombs. Note to self, next time you think about buying smoke bombs; just buy the stupid smoke bombs. They’ll come in handy. There are probably two to three times a day they’ll come in handy.
No. None of those plans will work. I need to come up with something quick. They’re starting to eat the cake. Just look at it. So soft and moist. Is that a raspberry layer? I love when there’s a raspberry layer. I need to get at that cake. I know. I can use my charms. Go over. Start up a conversation. Woo them with my masculine wit and charms. They’ll be eating out of my hands, and all the while I’ll be eating their cake. Shit. Balls. I’m not charming. That will never work. I don’t even like talking to people. Even if I could think of something clever to say, by the time I got to the table all I’d be able to do is kind of hem and haw and be generally all-around awkward. They’ll probably think I’m some sort of babbling idiot. Of course, maybe they’ll take pity on this poor babbling idiot and give him some cake…No. It won’t work. They’ll probably just move to another table and ignore me. That’s what I would do in that situation.
Wait. What’s that? Wedding cake. Of course. Why didn’t I see it? That’s the baker giving samples of the wedding cake. I have an in. I just got engaged. I just have to go over there, and say, “Excuse me. I understand you bake wedding cakes. I just proposed to my girlfriend. We’ll be in the market for a cake soon. Do you mind if I sample your wares, baker lady?” Then I take all that cake, and I eat it. Yeah. That might work. But maybe she’ll want to setup a separate appointment. I don’t want that. I don’t want to wait for cake. I want some cake now. I want that cake in my mouth this instant. What if she won’t give me any cake? What then? Snatch and grab. I can just grab the cake and run like the wind. But they know me here in this coffee shop. They’ll hunt me down. They’ll find me in the woods with my stomach distended, butter-cream frosting all over my face. Then I’ll never be able to show my face in this town again. But it might be worth it. Look at that cake. Each bite looks delicious. Oh, cake. Just look at that engaged chick wolfing it down. Each piece looks more delicious than the last.
Wait. She’s stopped eating. They seem to be going to the counter for some coffee this is my chance. I just got to play it cool and sneak off with some cake. Ok. Just sort of saunter over. I’m just a harmless man looking for the restroom. Don’t look like your hovering. Find the cake. Take the cake. Eat the cake. Don’t make it any more difficult than it has to be. Ok. There’s the box. I’m going in…Empty. The cake. All that cake. It’s…It’s gone. Oh, cruel world. I should have acted sooner. I waited too long. Curse my indecision and lack of smoke bombs. The cake has eluded my grasp…this time. That’s right cake. You got away this time, but next time you may not be so lucky. I’m going to get you cake, and when I do, I’m going to eat you. I swear upon my mother’s life I will have my day in the cake sun. Someday.
Shalom
Hold up, just one second.
There’s cake.
On the table. A lot of cake. They have like boxes of cake over there. What are they doing with all that cake? More importantly, how can I get some of that sweet, sweet pastry in my mouth? Just look at it. They have square cakes, round cakes, thick cakes, thin cakes, cakes adorned with frosted flowers, cakes with classy red icing, cakes sitting on top of larger cakes. It’s a veritable cake wonderland on that table, and I want to be Alice to that cake wonderland. I’ll gladly dive through any number of rabbit holes to frolic freely amongst those frosted delights. And by ‘frolic freely amongst those frosted delights’ I mean eat the fuck out of that cake.
Ok. So how exactly do I go about getting at that cake? What I need is some sort of distraction; introduce a little chaos in the coffee shop. I could yell fire. I could call in some favors. I could convince a friend to come in and pretend to rob the place at gunpoint. Then when everyone’s running around screaming for mercy, I simply walk over and purloin some sweet, sweet pastry. No. None of my friends would do that. Even if they would, they would want a cut of the cake loot. I’m not really looking to share the cake with any of my jerk friends. Maybe I could throw a smoke bomb in the middle of the room. When the joint is filled with thick smoke, I calmly stride over, tuck the cake under my arm, and disappear into the world. That’s a good plan. That could work. Now, where can I find a smoke bomb? It’s not like I carry them around with me on a utility belt. Dammit. Why don’t I have a utility belt fully stocked with wonderful toys like smoke bombs? You know you think about buying some smoke bombs, but you always talk yourself out of it? “When am I ever really going to need a smoke bomb?” You say to yourself. So now, here I am in dire need of a smoke bomb with no damned smoke bombs. Note to self, next time you think about buying smoke bombs; just buy the stupid smoke bombs. They’ll come in handy. There are probably two to three times a day they’ll come in handy.
No. None of those plans will work. I need to come up with something quick. They’re starting to eat the cake. Just look at it. So soft and moist. Is that a raspberry layer? I love when there’s a raspberry layer. I need to get at that cake. I know. I can use my charms. Go over. Start up a conversation. Woo them with my masculine wit and charms. They’ll be eating out of my hands, and all the while I’ll be eating their cake. Shit. Balls. I’m not charming. That will never work. I don’t even like talking to people. Even if I could think of something clever to say, by the time I got to the table all I’d be able to do is kind of hem and haw and be generally all-around awkward. They’ll probably think I’m some sort of babbling idiot. Of course, maybe they’ll take pity on this poor babbling idiot and give him some cake…No. It won’t work. They’ll probably just move to another table and ignore me. That’s what I would do in that situation.
Wait. What’s that? Wedding cake. Of course. Why didn’t I see it? That’s the baker giving samples of the wedding cake. I have an in. I just got engaged. I just have to go over there, and say, “Excuse me. I understand you bake wedding cakes. I just proposed to my girlfriend. We’ll be in the market for a cake soon. Do you mind if I sample your wares, baker lady?” Then I take all that cake, and I eat it. Yeah. That might work. But maybe she’ll want to setup a separate appointment. I don’t want that. I don’t want to wait for cake. I want some cake now. I want that cake in my mouth this instant. What if she won’t give me any cake? What then? Snatch and grab. I can just grab the cake and run like the wind. But they know me here in this coffee shop. They’ll hunt me down. They’ll find me in the woods with my stomach distended, butter-cream frosting all over my face. Then I’ll never be able to show my face in this town again. But it might be worth it. Look at that cake. Each bite looks delicious. Oh, cake. Just look at that engaged chick wolfing it down. Each piece looks more delicious than the last.
Wait. She’s stopped eating. They seem to be going to the counter for some coffee this is my chance. I just got to play it cool and sneak off with some cake. Ok. Just sort of saunter over. I’m just a harmless man looking for the restroom. Don’t look like your hovering. Find the cake. Take the cake. Eat the cake. Don’t make it any more difficult than it has to be. Ok. There’s the box. I’m going in…Empty. The cake. All that cake. It’s…It’s gone. Oh, cruel world. I should have acted sooner. I waited too long. Curse my indecision and lack of smoke bombs. The cake has eluded my grasp…this time. That’s right cake. You got away this time, but next time you may not be so lucky. I’m going to get you cake, and when I do, I’m going to eat you. I swear upon my mother’s life I will have my day in the cake sun. Someday.
Shalom
posted by James | 1:12 PM
1 Comments:
I want to eat the fuck out of your blog.
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