Another Damn Birthday Cake! (Webisode # 1)
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"Augh!" Celia smashed her purse into the washer as she spilled into the back door, nearly splattering her grocery bag onto the new, unfinished floor. That was worth a fist-pounding on the counter. "Damn birthdays....damntraffic! Damn people!" she was muttering now, her chest tightened to hold back the rage. 
a nurse-
-a maid
a chauffeur,
A deep breath. A deeper breath. Three short catch-up gasps and a sound that made her dog, Nippy, pinch his tail between his legs and scuttle under the table. A frantic sweeping of hands over the floor, gathering up slippery cherries like loose eyeballs.
Which was a better fit.
His 'yelp!' was lost beneath the Clangs! from the avalanche of pots and pans that now CRASHEDfrom the counter into the sink...smashed cherries like blood-splatter stained the plaster wall and made no apology for their suicide...
"Frickin' Vanilla Icing!" SMACK! That one almost crushed the boneless container.
"Tofutti!" (Smash!). "You soy-based piece of s#*%!"
The next little soldier was awarded a particular grunt of disdain-"Coconut f#@%*ng ice cream!"
He landed half-way between the toaster and a pile of unpaid bills. And wether he was perspiring or melting, was anyones guess. 
Her cell phone began banging out some ragtime tune on a miniature player-piano stuffed somewhere deep down in her purse.
Two eggs were ripped from their box of siblings and re-nested in a green and white ceramic bowl.
If you could set a speed-record for listening,
Celia had just qualifed for the Olympics.
"Seven thirty! I saidI'd be there!" and she longed for the lost days of big phones with big recievers that you could smash down like a cleaver into it's cradle, and really MEAN BUSINESS!
The oven knob was given it's own little titty-twister until it registered "350"
and the poor little eggs got murdered, along with a half stick of vegan butter. Celia wrestled the kitchen scissors from it's wooden block of knives, which she yearned to be cutting somethingwith. Hard!
"AS GOD IS MY WITNESS-" she ranted with the froth of a boiled-over lunatic-stew,"- I will neverbakehungry again!"
Which is why they invented alcohol, of course. Celia wanted a whole table full of cocktails right about now.
But she settled for a shot of Lemon vodka from the freezer. Glass- unnecessary.
Cake. Cake. Cake. A gluten-free, dairy-free cake. Having celiacs disease was one problem. A 7 year old kid on the spectrum who made Robin Williams look like a coma patient was another. A complex dimension to an aready hurried, stressed-out life.
So, she baked it. Split the batter into two pans for that layered look.
Got changed. Took it out of the oven. Let it cool. Emptied the dishwasher.
She smeared some Tofutti cream cheese on the first layer, covered that with some cherry preserves crap...
She smeared some Tofutti cream cheese on the first layer, covered that with some cherry preserves crap...
And slapped the top layer on like she was spanking a baby. (you know, the nice way a nurse would)
Then, some vanilla icing.
Finally, pop a few cherries on top, and this bitch is ready to hit the dance floor!
As Celia packaged the cake in a box she had stolen from Wawa
(they keep them on a rack beneath the doughnuts, in case you ever, ya know, need one...)
she had a thought. One selfish thought......
'Is it so absolutely WRONG.....?' Would it be so awful if she....I mean, just one taste....So what if she.... howembarassingwould it be to show up with a half-eaten...After all, she hadmissed lunch AND dinner.... and truth be told, as to how she really felt about the mother of the kid whose birthday it was, well....
And that is HOW she came to this conclusion:
"Ahh- what the hell?" she snickered, "Let ME eat cake!"
...and since Little Nippy had borrowed her shoes....
.
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