Curse you, Black Bottom Cake, made from my Aunt Becky's recipe.
Satan in a pan, that's what they should call you.
Dark bitter sweet chocolate cake with cream cheese and chocolate chip goodness marbled in....
It's gluttony in a dish, that's what it is.
I eat half a slice, and then push the plate away because I am so full I feel sick.
But then.......
You call to me. A whisper at first....."
Sarah...don't be wasteful...this is your Aunt Becky's recipe...don't insult her by not finishing me..."
And then your voice gets louder.
"Hey, fat a**. Finish me. You know you're going to eventually. Just eat me, and be done with it."
And then you try to reason with me.
"
Okay, seriously. Finish me. Better yet, grab another slice, because the kids aren't going to eat all of me, and your husband is going to be ticked when he knows how much you spent to make me, and it is totally wasteful not to finish the expensive cake sitting on the counter. There are starving people...somewhere...and they would give anything for a piece of damn cake. Now eat me, and stop being stupid."
And then you insult me.
"Okay, lets be real here: You're fat, and fat people like cake. Why pretend you're something you're not. IF you don't eat me, you're just going to eat the entire block of Tillamook cheese you just bought, and then your fat a** will have ruined taco night. Pull your ginormous gut up to the table, and eat because you know your head will explode if you don't, fatty."
And then you yell at me.
"HEY LARD A**!! EAT THE CAKE AND STOP BEING STUPID. THIS IS MORONIC, AND YOU'RE NOT FOOLING ANYONE. I TASTE GOOD. YOU'RE HUNGRY. EAT THE CAKE, PROBLEM SOLVED!!!"
And, of course...I crumble under the pressure.
I eat another slice.
You're Satan in a pan.
Brooke Moss.
