“The Cake”
On a Tuesday in early November, I watched an assistant vice president named Dave “hold court” with my colleagues in the break room, speaking about how this is the worst time to be alive in the history of the world. He held a captive audience that nodded their heads in agreement. I hadn’t given this concept much thought, but I decided to spend a little time that evening combing through his hypothesis. After hours of contemplation, I decided he was spot on. He hit the nail on the head!
How could we possibly concentrate on our daily duties while so many injustices were right in front of our eyes? I was sitting at home, making a list of the world's atrocities, and I became hungry due to my deep mental exercise. While I was vigorously working away with thoughts of the horrid world we live in, I pressed four buttons on my pocket computer, also known as a cell phone. Within minutes, I heard an alarming sound coming from my phone. Was it an incoming missile warning that created the vile sound? Oh, no, it was just a notification that my food had arrived.
As I stared at my freshly delivered porterhouse steak, I thought about how lucky we used to be just a few short generations ago. I thought about how we used to be able to partake in loads of fun when our stomachs would moan from hunger. We had every chance to have such exciting adventures, like crafting and creating weapons to hunt. Next, we had the fun-loving time of becoming proficient enough with those weapons to track, catch, and kill enough food for our tribe. Skin, dismember, gut, and harvest our newfound sustenance. Then, build a fire to cook our food. I immediately snapped out of my way of thinking when I realized the restaurant had given me much bigger portions than this protein-fueled military veteran could eat. I shrugged my shoulders, and the leftover food went in the trash. I’m sure our ancestors would have done the same with theirs.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how spot-on Dave was about how unfortunate we are in today’s day and age. A time when we constantly must worry about our safety. No civilized society should need to worry about such an obvious right! I began to imagine how much better things used to be. We never had to worry about our safety in the past. We were lucky enough to live in large groups in small homemade shelters. We were so close to one another that we were fortunate enough to smell each other's fecal matter as it emitted from the community waste bucket. We could find areas in the wilderness that helped provide us with safety. We could have a fun night watch, taking turns staying awake—just like a slumber party! —to ensure wolves and coyotes did not stalk our encampment and eat our children. We would be able to make new friends with strangers we’ve never met, always unsure of their motivations. Is this group of travelers here to rob us, to kidnap us, or maybe even kill us? So much excitement! I realized it was getting late, so I stood up from my hanging cocoon swivel chair, set my security system, and locked my doors from my cell phone. Then I laid down on my cooling memory foam bed, enveloped in 1,000-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets.
I was trying to sleep, but became irate about all these dreadful new inventions and longed for the time of old. I thought about how much more comfortable I would have been sleeping on the cold, hard ground instead of this silly bed. I became so frustrated that I grew hot. Oh, the torture! I had to take the time and effort to pick my cell phone back up and turn my thermostat down. Ugh, what's wrong with fire? Why did we do away with that? I began a brief list in my mind, like what we do for entertainment. What options we have for sustenance. How travel has turned from torture into an exciting experience. What we sit on. What we lay on. How we communicate, and that we can communicate virtually instantly. Before long, I was so full of disgust by this treacherous world we live in today.
As I walked into work the following day, hardly able to put one leg in front of the other due to sheer exhaustion from all my malicious thoughts from the night's past, I noticed something was different. There was no abrupt noise. No clamoring for justice. No stomping and crying to fix our broken nation. I was so ready to engage in today’s criticism of the world! I walked into the break room, and to my surprise, it was packed with colleagues chatting and gossiping breathlessly with one another. I approached my colleague Christy and asked, “What’s going on?” Her words registered shock— “Dave is gone.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh my God! What happened?”
She pointed to a large, white-frosted cake, unsliced on the break room table. Inscribed with letters in red and blue icing: “Congratulations, SENATOR Dave!”
By:A.L. Blackheart
