It is entirely possible that I've invested a bit too much time in concocting off-beat and absurd stories. And I might have just the slightest problem keeping my imagination and reality in check.
For lack of anything better to do, Parker joined me on a trip to the grocery store the other day. Steve was out of town and as often happens when he is gone, I was channeling my inner Mother Hubbard. That day, however, when I looked in the refrigerator and found only ketchup, an egg, and a bottle of Aloe Vera juice, I decided to break down and buy some food. We were at the store when Parker mentioned he was craving chocolate cupcakes. I, being
Sadly, we didn't find chocolate cupcakes on sale but I did notice Parker grimacing while he peered at a small sheet cake on the top rack. When I asked why, he said it was a sad cake. Sad as in mangled or sad as in it had something sad written on it? He told me the cake had, God Bless You, Westin, written on it. I grimaced too.
"Do you think Westin died?" I asked.
Parker said, "I think so."
We stood near the bakery rack feeling a little sad and a lot concerned. I mean, if you're going to have a cake made for a dead person, shouldn't you pick it up rather than letting it get put on the bargain rack? How would that make a dead guy feel?
Parker and I spent the next few minutes theorizing reasons why Westin's family wouldn't have picked up his death cake. Just as our imagined scenarios were venturing into the much too macabre, it occurred to us that maybe Westin wasn't dead at all. Maybe Westin's family got mad at him and decided not to pick up the God Bless You cake. Maybe there was a whole different story.
And the next thing we knew, the non-dead Westin story was off and running.
As we gathered our groceries, Parker and I made up a whole drama about how the God Bless You cake had been ordered in anticipation of Westin's catechism, which was happening much later than the traditional age for a religious instruction ceremony because Westin had dragged his feet and found excuses for not following through. Westin's father, being an overbearing and manipulative type (which might be somewhat loosely based on a certain little 85-year old woman we know) had made such a fuss about it that Westin obliged, just to get him to be quiet. The reason Westin hadn't wanted to follow through, however, was because he was secretly gay and he knew neither the tenants of his religious tradition nor his father would approve. So, he chose that day to come out to his family, and upon hearing that his son was gay, Westin's father, being a God-fearing patriarch and all, insisted that Westin's Biblically obedient mother not pick up the God Bless You cake. Instead he demanded that she order one that said, Goddamnit, Westin!*
The sad little God Bless You cake was relegated to the bakery mark-down shelf.
I admit we were rather zealous in making up the story and then discussing how delightful it would be for Parker and his friend, Taylor, to make a short movie about it because, together, they are ridiculously funny and creative. We talked about it until we got home and Parker said we should have bought the cake. By this time I was so enthralled with the whole story that we got right back in the car and drove to the grocery store to buy it.
We were excited when we got there and made a beeline right to the back of the store where the marked-down bakery items live. We knew it would still be there. It had only been about 20 minutes since we first encountered the cake and who was crazy enough to buy an abandoned cake that said, God Bless You, Westin on it? Besides us, I mean.
But, when we got there, the cake was gone. Gone.
After a quick jog through the first four stages of grief, I said there had to be some mistake and set out to consult with our friend, Grumpy Cake Lady. True to form, she treated me with disdain and explained that if the cake wasn't on the bargain shelf anymore, someone else had bought it.
I was crushed. And then I saw Parker, not yet ready to accept the truth, trying to nonchalantly gaze sidelong into the carts of other shoppers. After reminding one another that stealing the cake from another shopper's cart (should we find it) was not an appropriate response, we eventually had to accept the truth and leave the store without the cake.
The next day, however, Anna and Parker were planning a trip to see an outdoor movie with friends and she asked if I'd go to the store with her to get snacks. When we entered the store I impulsively decided to get a cake and have, Goddamnit, Westin! written on it for her to give to Parker.
This, of course, meant I, once again, had to encounter Grumpy Cake Lady.
She was busy airbrushing a sheet cake a rather unpleasant shade of green when she stopped and asked what I wanted. I cheerfully told her to go ahead and finish, giving her a flippy little wave of the hand. She pressed the trigger and finished spraying the cake ugly green while I contemplated what that color must do to one's digestive system. Again she humorlessly asked what I wanted. I offered her my very cutest, most adorable self and asked, "How's your sense of humor today?" Without a smile she glared at me and asked, for the third time, what I wanted. I asked if she would write a naughty word on my cake.
No.
No, she wouldn't write, Goddamnit, Westin! on my cake.
And that was that.
I was relegated to buying ready made frosting in a tube and attempting to write my inappropriate message on the cake myself. It lacked the professional flair of a really mean and grouchy cake decorator.
But Westin's father liked it.
*In the spirit of happy endings, I'm happy to report that Westin's father (after the cake incident) came to terms with who Westin is and their relationship was restored to its former condition.
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