Let Them Eat Cake

Let them Eat Cake!

 A wonderful lady made us all a cake for Christmas.  Now,  cake in our house is rare  but once we opened the lid, we realized that we had seen cake before and  that is was good to eat,  we all had a small slice. But then I woke up in the night and started thinking about cake and how lonely it must be in  the kitchen by itself with only odd assorted cookies and remnants of pies for company and I began to feel bad for the cake. Then I thought of all the people  who didn't have cake and I felt bad for for those poor people too.
The obligation of duty overwhelmed me  and so I just had to do it. Eat Cake!

By this time, the cake itself began crying so  sadly and sweetly,

"I'm here! It's dark in the kitchen and I am all alone except for these odd assorted cookies and remnants of pies! I am cake, HEAR ME!  Come and eat me! You must!"

While the family slept, I crept into the kitchen and I ate  cake.

 Later on after the alarm sounded and  while under the clever guise of making breakfast, I ate cake.

The morning progressed and while I was answering e-mails, and catching up on the news,  I  heard it.  It was a voice, faint at first but quickly increasing in volume.

This startled me.  It was m Kerig coffee maker!

"Morning Blend!  I have Morning Blend!  Morning Blend .goes great with cake...great with cake!"

Amazing, the cake had somehow compromised my coffee maker!
I managed to ignore the annoying sing-song for a while, but I am only human.

The cake started again too.  This time, appealing now to my literary nature.

 "Let them eat  cake!"  

"Yes."  I thought.

Someone famous said this once or maybe I had read it on a place mat at a coffee house.

Who is  "them" anyway?  I Reasoned.  And why should they eat the cake?

I decided right then and there that I wouldn't let a silly  pronoun keep me from what was rightfully mine. It was a gift cake after all. So quick as a wink, I changed "them" to "her" .
And She, Her and I ate cake.

The afternoon sun beamed  brightly in through the curtains in my kitchen.  I sighed  a guilty contented sigh.  The danger is over and past.  The cake is quiet now. It has gone to the place where all good cakes go.  The coffee  maker is silent too since it is  mostly a morning voice.

But in spite of myself,  I listened.  The more I try not to,  the more I listened.

Then, very faintly, I  heard something?
 I opened the fridge-no, nothing there.  Well, just a few crispy scoldings from some salad makings but vegetables are not very persuasive and easily dismissed.

I poured a diet soda over ice and retreated to the front porch to count passing traffic.

"Thirty-five."

 I said aloud as a red Ford Pinto with  broken left tail light rambles past.  The postman stoped and delivered  some assorted bills and grocery ads directly into my hands.  I smiled and bundled the lot to look over inside.

But when I put my hand on the  door knob  the door was stuck. I pulled harder and it suddenly exploded with a swarm of  voices screaming like a thousand buzzing banshees.

"Help us!  Save us!  We are afraid of this dark place!"

HARK!
The heroine in me rises.
FLASH! HEADLINE!

                                 -TEN BANANA MOON PIES TRAPPED -
"Save us!"  Ten  individually wrapped voices scream again.
                                                                                            C Copyright by D.J. L December 27, 2013