No Cakeplow for Cake

Recognition Day was celebrated this afternoon during the lunch hour. Everyone huddled together on the brick patio 'neath the shady limbs of giant oaks. The smiles. The pizza. The beer. The backwash-level of tequila in it's sad bottle. And the cake. Oh the cake. You could see in it's simple white frosting and it's poorly-done hand-letteredness it's excitement, knowing that within minutes of being de-boxed, it would soon get to nuzzle against the fleshy face of some Mindcomet employee. The box was opened and heads turned to see if anyone was being cakeplowed today. No. A move was made to get Eric to do one since today is his last day. The cake seemed to rise a little fluffier in this possibility. All eyes went to Eric, even cake eyes. But no, Eric did not want to cakeplow. The cake heard this and sunk lower in it's flimsy white Publix rectangular box, even lower than it had been when it first arrived.

The cake now knew it would soon just be eaten. A knife, some cutting and then poof. It had heard about Mindcomet and their Cakeplow from the banana creme bundt and the bavarian cream on the shelf that morning. It was so excited that something different might happen to it when it got there. But cakes, like everybody else, shouldn't get their hopes up. Bad things happen...like a no-cakeplow day.