Icing on a Cake

Of course Laila had two glasses of vodka even though she preferred gin. Vodka Bartley had left behind on his last and final visit. Final because he was feeling slippery guilt. Guilt because he’d found out his wife was throwing a surprise party for his fiftieth. 

Laila knocked on her neighbour’s door. Knocked there because she knew her neighbour’s ten-year-old daughter was into crafting and would have cardboard. Cardboard she could use to construct a human-sized cake. 

Of course she started to enjoy herself, probably because she had downed two more drinks, but also because she was constructing the cake. The cake she planned to ice using a piping bag fashioned with the wrapper retrieved from the bin. The wrapper that had held the flowers he left as a wilting apology when he scuttled out the door.

Laila whipped up a big batch of icing and a small one, too. The big batch was cherry blossom pink, enough to cover the whole cake, while the small one was cherry red for the message on the side.

Of course she had a number of manly admirers living in the soldier’s barracks across the street. Admirers who would do anything for the lovely Laila after she promised them a pinch and a tickle. Anything included hauling the cake down the stairs, lifting it onto a dolly, and wheeling it over to Bartley’s house on the night of the party.

Laila, wearing her best tan and a satin teddy, paraded behind the pink cake and popped into it when they reached Bartley’s door. The pink cake on which, in red icing, she’d piped one word. Surprise!

Louella Lester is a writer and amateur photographer in Winnipeg, Canada. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Dribble DrabbleThe Odd Magazine, Shorts, Grey Sparrow, Six Sentences, New Flash Fiction, Spelk, and other journals and anthologiesHer Flash-CNF book, Glass Bricks (At Bay Press) is just out.

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