Chocolate Birthday Cake

Carl was cleaning out his Showtime Rotisserie & BBQ machine when he thought to himself, "I've never had the chance to eat chocolate birthday cake before." He put down his Stain-O-Glass Polish Remover and tiny scrub pad and paced back and forth for a while with these thoughts mutating. He thought about why he hadn't had the chance yet. In the twenty-three years of his life, every birthday he had experienced only turn up with ice cream, pies, candy, that one year when his estranged father "returned" and got a life-size gingerbread house, but never had he had the pleasures that most non-allergic childs have when devouring a perfectly new, perfectly moist chocolate birthday cake. In mid-pace, Carl stopped and realized that his birthday was, in fact, on the rise and just two weeks away. "Chocolate birthday cake won't be too far off now," thought the elated man in his small apartment kitchen. He made a note of it on his nude Wonder Woman calendar. Then he blushed and tucked his head like so many snapper turtles when confronted by a naked superhero.

That chocolate birthday cake was all Carl talked about for the next week. He told his co-workers, his bus companions, his parents, his myspace friends, his Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game friends, even his pet cat, Harley Quinn. "Oh, chocolate birthday cake on my birthday, I'm so excited," he would boast. He set out to make this the best day of his life. He wrote a blog on his blogpage to fully describe how he felt and what he had planned to do. His cake was going to be perfect at three layers with the "Dutchest of Dutch chocolates" and the "Hitler of German chocolates" as he deliciously put it. The cake would be fresh from Mr. Rich Baker's Bakery Rich Cakes, "the finest baked cake in all of the great state," as the ad in the Chicago Reader would promise. And as the icing on the cake, the icing on the cake would be imported from the Choco Capitol of the world, Switzerland. It will be Hell or high jelly to ruin this grand special day for Carl Hershey.

"Tomorrow's the big day, Harley Quinn," said Carl to his friendly Calico cat, "Ooh, I can't wait to dig my teeth into that decadent delicious treat." He fell asleep listening to the sweet sounds of Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys.

Carl was very excited to wake up the next morning. He quickly threw on all of his clothes and rushed to Mr. Rich Baker's Bakery Rich Cakes. He looked at the piece of edible art that lay so delicately beautiful in its tight box, and tears began streaming down his cheeks. He thanked Mr. Rich Baker and his lovely busty wife, payed the cost and fees, then headed home. In the car, he couldn't keep his eyes off the cake, which made driving just a little difficult, but not so different than changing discs in the CD player. He arrived home safely and headed up the three floors to his apartment and layed the cake on the hall table. His two roommates were not home, most likely at work and class, respectively. He quickly went into the kitchen and returned to the hall with a knife as to cut the cake into slices and taste for himself, quite possibly, the richest and most moist cake ever. He plopped the corner slice of the first layer onto his cold white china saucer dish, making such a powering thud that a bit of the thick savory icing slid off and onto the wooden floor. Although he saw it, he didn't think to clean it just now; he was so close to enjoying his birthday treat. With his trusty Star Wars Episode I Darth Maul Light Saber Spoon, he dipped into the cake and pulled into his mouth a devilish-sized piece and slid the spoon out slowly as to fully understand each and every sensation that his papillae could receive. His salivary glands along with his tear ducts had the appropriate liquids pour out in an orgy of complacency putting him in a bliss that only Buddhists gain when reaching Nirvana His brain went through a small relapse causing his nervous system to fail for only 60 milliseconds, but that's all his legs needed in order shift slightly forcing him to quickly catch balance which brought his foot onto that very dollop of icing that he had carelessly spilled earlier. Upon landing on this spot, he was taken away from that place of zen and started to slip. After having a slight out-of-body experience, Carl had forgotten about the knife he was wielding and while trying to find balance, the hand with the knife instinctively grabbed onto the hall table, but because he was focused on maintaining his composure, he unknowingly had the knife pinned down between the edge of the table and his thumb, pointed upward. By now, the icing was still slippery under his leather patented shoes, and so he slipped once more, falling neck first into the knife he so balanced on. Lying on the ground, bleeding rapidly, the last taste in his mouth, of course before the blood finally chokes him to death, was his delicious chocolate birthday cake. And he died happy and with no regrets.

The moral of the story is "Make sure you put your pet in your will, because who watch after them when you die?"