Cake

Cake

Now these children’s book or poems have become a way to discount those silly little things that seem to linger longer than expected.  For example, there is always cake at my work.  Every day is an occasion for cake and everyday there is a quiet urgency to get to the cake before it disappears.  Added to this guilty pleasure, these obsessed cake eaters do not like to eat cake alone.  Furthermore, I sit along the path of the pilgrimage so I see the faithful marching on their way. Quietly, fingers fiddling in a giddy excitement, they walk towards the cake.  Yet this journey that I witness is not to be taken in solitude.   All the devoted and beloved cake eaters insist that I, as well, sitting along the path, should join the journey in the expansion of my waist line.   I completely disagree and deflect, deny and disengage all cake inquiries that are tossed my way.  I have said things like I can’t have dairy, it gives me asthma, it makes my feet smell, I already had some and on and on it goes.  I’ve had success with these excuses until one day someone took it too far.

I got up to leave as the cake eaters began their daily procession.  The solution to today’s cake dodge was to be absent during feeding hours.  This was by far the best solution and I was happily enjoying a walk outside during this time.  I came back refreshed and rejuvenated only to find someone put cake on my desk.  “The horror,” I whispered as I turned around to see my supervisor staring at me.  She had left me the cake on my desk and was waiting for my return.  She said she noticed I was out and didn’t want me to miss out on any cake.  She motioned for me to try it.  I caught her eyes with a lactose intolerant stare as I tipped the plate towards the trash can.  “Thanks but I don’t really want this cake,” I said.  She looked at me.   I was baffled.  Why does everyone want me to eat this cake?  I took a bite.  She smiled, a smug smile, and waddled away.  I let the rest of the cake slide into the trash can and sighed. I can’t believe I caved and ate the cake.  I was demoralized. To deal with my spinelessness, I wrote the story below.

Hey you know what, there’s cake in the break room

You better hurry up and get there soon

Tres leches, Vanilla, chocolate and cream

More cake than I know I’ve ever seen

Cake for a birthday, cake for a holiday

Cake on your first day, cake on your last day

Cake in the fall or summer time

Cake with carrots, filling or lime

Cake with some ice cream, sprinkles or berries

Cake with some milk and then topped with some cherries

Cake with some coffee or maybe some tea

Lots of cake for you and more for me

So stop all this talk and get in line with the bunch

And gobble down cake for breakfast and lunch

But watch what you eat because your stomach will turn

And then hold your butt cheeks til they start to burn

But don’t you worry,  no need to fret

Just take a deep breath and wipe off the sweat

Now slowly stand up so you don’t get busted

And start to walk so everyone gets crop dusted.

I wrote this the day I had to put that piece of dejection in my mouth.  It helped and now I share with you.  Thanks for letting me indulge in my side dream here.  I’ll post some more as time goes so let me know what you think.