Well, y’all, welcome to Saturday! Aka, Story Day! Each Saturday I’m gonna post something that I’ve written with a prompt. I’ll give you the prompt (GO WRITE YOUR OWN STORY OFF OF IT!), then the story. In the words of Captain Jack Sparrow, “Savvy?” 😉
Prompt
Write a scene with a chocolate cake.
Story
It was just sitting there. On the table. With no one around. Smelling so great. Yep, you’ve got the right thought. The most amazing, scrumptious, miraculous thing in our wide, wide world: chocolate cake.
Ok, so I know my mom said not to touch it. That it was an experiment for one of her science students that needed help. But I thought she was joking! I mean, why in the world would you experiment on chocolate cake of all things for science? Science experiments involve lots of explosions, dissecting frogs, and bubbles, in my book. Not chocolate cake.
So I decided that I’d take just one piece, then blame it on Dad. He eats stuff he’s not supposed to all the time! The only difference is that he doesn’t know he’s not supposed to eat it, and I do.
Anyway, I eagerly cut myself a slice, inhaled deeply, and escaped to my tree. Careful to keep pieces of bark from falling onto my cake, and my cake from falling onto the ground, I scrambled up to the best forked branch in there, then settled down with my beautiful prize.
The first bite was heaven. The cake itself was a fluffy, perfectly balanced concoction of wonderfulness concocted in the kitchen. My mom makes the best cake. And the frosting! Smooth creaminess mixed with cocoa powder to give it a chocolaty flavor, a consistency that melted in my mouth. I closed my eyes in ecstasy as I slowly chewed the bite and swallowed, relishing every time flavor assailed my taste buds.
The next bite was even better, but I didn’t bother to hold it in my mouth. I had to be done and cover my tracks before Mom got home from the store. But it was so good that I couldn’t resist letting it sit on my tongue for a few extra moments before gulping it down and cutting another one.
It was only a matter of moments before the entire slice was gone. I stared longingly at my empty plate as I chewed and swallowed, then scraped and licked until every last ounce of chocolate was off of it. The thought that I could just put it in the cupboard as a clean plate and Mom would never know entered my mind, and I snickered. It would be kinda funny to see her face after it had been used again. The only problem was that it matched all the other plates, so I wouldn’t be able to tell which one was which.
I began to climb down, plate in one hand, fork in the other, memory of my stolen treat still vivid in my mind. To be truthful, I did feel a little bit guilty, but the pleasure of the cake easily pushed the guilt aside.
When I reached the bottom of the tree, I began to notice a funny feeling in my gut – like I’d drunk too much pop. I half expected a bubbly burp to erupt out of my mouth and make my nose sting.
Presently, however, my humor faded as the feeling progressed from bubbliness to turmoil. I put my plate in the sink, not bothering to wash it, and lay down on the couch. A burp rose to my mouth, but I pushed it back down. Suddenly the thought of chocolate made me feel ill. Had the piece been too big? I didn’t think so, considering how much sweets I normally ate (I once devoured one and a half batches of large chocolate chip cookies when Mom was away – long story).
It was then that I decided that maybe Mom hadn’t been trying to keep me from the cake when she said that it was an experiment for one of her needful students. Maybe she’d been serious, which meant I was in big trouble. What if she’d put toxins in the cake, or something explosive? My stomach could explode any minute, and there was nothing that I could do to get away from it. You can’t exactly get rid of your stomach.
There was only one thing to do: douse the fire before it got out of control. Ignoring my protesting gizzard, I was up in a flash and headed for the kitchen sink. I turned the water on full blast, stuck my head beneath the faucet, and guzzled water until I thought my insides would burst from the pressure. Then I drank a little bit more, just to be safe.
“That oughta do it,” I muttered as I patted my stomach and headed back to the couch. No exploding stomachs today.
The only problem was that my stomach was so full of water that I couldn’t lay flat without it coming up my throat. Groaning, imagining how I’d flooded my organs, I found a few pillows and rested my head on them. That helped, but I still felt terrible. The bubbles were still in my stomach, but now, whenever I shifted slightly, the water jiggled and wiggled like it was throwing a temper tantrum.
It was at that moment that my mom walked into the room, carrying a few bags of groceries. She set her purse on the table, along with the other bags, and took off her sunglasses. She stood with her back to me for a moment, and I knew that she’d seen the cake.
“Alex,” she said, her tone making me cringe more than my tumultuous stomach did. “Did you eat some of this cake?”
“No ma’am!” I replied, a little too hastily. “Dad did it. I tried to tell him not to, but he didn’t believe me.”
Mom turned to face me. The set of her mouth and the raised eyebrow gave me the creeps. “Alex…”
“Really, Mom, that’s what happened. But my stomach really hurts. Can I have some medicine?”
“Promise that’s what happened?” Mom gave me the icy glare, and I felt my heart shrivel up.
Promise? She was acting like she already knew what had happened, although I couldn’t figure out how. My plan was fool-proof! But, I had to promise or she’d find out. I sighed, not meeting her furious eyes. “No. I ate it. I’m sorry.”
Mom’s eyes warmed, and she burst out laughing. “Oh, son, when will you learn?”
“But it made me sick, Mom!” I reminded her. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
She came and sat on the couch by me, putting a soothing hand on my stomach. “Remember how I told you that I made the cake for a student in my class who needed help?”
I nodded.
“You’re in my class, Alex, and you’re that student. I made it so that if you took a piece and disobeyed me, you’d get this stomachache. You’ll have it for a few hours, then be good as new.”
“But… but… but…” I spluttered, so confused, “you poisoned me?”
“I’m teaching you a lesson,” Mom said, her voice firm. She stood up and began to put the groceries away. “I hope you’ve learned not to take what isn’t yours. You never know when something of mine might be… unpleasant to eat.”
Clever, I thought. Well, Mom was right. Never again would I touch something she warned me about!
Wrap Up
So that’s it, then! What do y’all think? Did you write your own chocolate cake scene? If so, I’d love to see it. 😉 Was Story Day a success? Will you ever eat chocolate cake again? Let me know in the comments!
Take courage, pursue God, and smile while you still have teeth!
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