Wasted

Very recently, Suz had a birthday. In accordance with her annual wish, I did not have a big party for her. The party existed, but was quite small in nature. Small being a couple of close friends, along with my parents. Her parents were in transit from the Ottawa area, and were expected late in the evening.

Everybody gathered 'round the coffee table and exchanged humourous stories, many involving midgets and frankfurters.

After examining the contents of our fridge, I went back into the living room and offered drinks to everyone. Surprisingly, nobody wanted beer. They all wanted fruity, girly drinks. Every single one of them, including Hulk Hogan, who stopped by for a minute.

When I met the Hulkster a few weeks ago, I didn't believe he could tear his t-shirt in half. I suggested it was a stunt set up with a pre-torn shirt, and he took offense to that. Anyway, he showed up, tore his shirt in half, chugged an orange sherbet super-fluffy mega-swirl, and left.

All this left me distracted, and even though I knew something was missing, I forgot the birthday cake. Completely.

I saw the cake in the fridge when I grabbed drinks for everyone, and it still slipped my mind. A little while later, everyone left, with empty stomachs, probably cursing me, and shaking their fists in the air.

When Suz's parents showed up, with a cake of their own, I cronked my undies. A rubber mallet of guilt smashed me in the face. My cake was wasted. But we ate it anyway.