Carrot Cake – a 700 word story.
This post is dedicated to a particularly nasty slice of Carrot Cake I had the misfortune to order and try to eat two weeks ago at Springs Junction.
Carrot cake was pissed. Looking around the cabinet he could see that apart from a solitary slice of Doris Plum Cheese cake in the chilled cabinet next door, he was the last cake standing. He looked to the left and noted the Friands and Gluten Free Slices numbered about ten. Poxy Wankers, he thought to himself, always thinking they are better than every other slice, cake or patisserie. Trendy my arse, Carrot Cake scowled, because just like him unless they were sold within the next twenty seven minutes they were all going bin-side, they were heading for the long and mucky journey to the underworld via the municipal refuse station. Being covered in coffee grounds,surrounded by wet tissues and napkins, then having to share the journey to oblivion with those Fuck Knuckle Friands and Gluten Free Slices was too much. Was way too much! C’mon someone had to buy him.
Carrot Cake looked behind him. Tarsh the last staff member on was doing the clean-up before closing the door at 4pm. Then she was heading off to Hanmer Springs with her boyfriend for a dirty weekend. At least that’s what he heard her say to the other staff earlier in the day. The fat cow was on a diet, the worst and foulest four-letter word you could ever say in a cafe. There was no chance she was going to take him away – bloody bitch.
The week had started off okay. As usual the rancid kraut Black Forest Gateaux took top billing in the cabinet. Sitting defiantly on the top shelf daring people to look at its luscious bulbous cheery’s hanging out it’s side. Shit faced show off thought Carrot Cake.
On the second shelf this week sat a very sedate but arrogant Lemon and White Chocolate Cake who thought it he was just too cool for school and did not say a word all week.
By Tuesday afternoon the Gateaux was gone. By Thursday afternoon the sour faced high falutin lemon albino chocolate creation was also gone. Good riddance! As a result Carrot Cake and his remaining cake mates Jono, Trev and Charlie were moved into prominence on the top shelf. Then gradually one by one his mates disappeared until Carrot Cake was the last one standing and as the clock ticked closer and closer to 4pm he became increasingly bitter about it.
What was wrong with him? Did the orange icing carrot hat sitting on top of his cream cheese icing not look cute? Was his size not generous enough? He couldn’t work it out.
At 3.51pm a woman with a baby entered the cafe, ‘sorry are you still open?’ She called out to Tarsh who was placing the chairs on the tables and doing the hoovering.
‘Only for takeaways,’ Tarsh called back smiling and now walking over to the coffee machine. ‘What would you like?’
‘Could I please have a large soy, double chocolate, decaf mocacchino with a vanilla injection served extra hot please.’
‘Coming right up,’ Tarsh smiled again. ‘By the way, Cabinet food is half price if you want something to go with it.’
The lady peered into the cabinet. She looked at the Friands and Slices then slowly shook her head. Carrot Cake smiled with glee – yes, he thought to himself.
The lady then looked at chiller cabinet, poor old Doris looked worse for wear, plum juice stains adorned her white frock like spilt blood. No Chance Doris, Cheese Cake crowed.
As the lady studied studied Carrot Cake, he could see she was licking her lips, he could see a sliver of saliva form in the corner of her mouth. This was it! This was it – yes he had been saved!
Anything else? Tarsh asked, as she handed over the drink she had just concocted.
That Carrot Cake looks divine, the lady answered, it really does.
Coffee Cake relaxed and instantly fell in love.
But I mustn’t said the lady, I’m on a diet!
No, no, no, no, screamed Carrot Cake, you bitch, you filthy good for nothing heffalump.
Five minutes later Carrot Cake closed his eyes and plummeted head first into a pile of coffee grounds which is where he belonged..