Friday, April 14, 2006

Bunny dropping

I pull in the drive and get out to unload the Mini. As I round the bumper, something catches the corner of my eye. It is on the turn-around concrete pad that covers a corner of my yard (I am the last house on a dead-end street and the pad was poured by the city to facilitate the turning of municipal trucks in lieu of a cul-de-sac.)

I go to investigate.

I am standing in my yard looking at an ornate egg-shaped cake that is encased in plastic packaging. (see above).

There is no evidence to suggest how the cake got here. No other groceries spilled about, no bunny tracks, no elf-dust, no nothing. There is only the cake. And there is not one smudge of frosting on the packaging.

It is perfect.

By some miracle, I resist the urge to tear open the package and feed on the cake like a wild dog. Instead, I go to check my copious reference material on "procedures, cakes, found, holiday, egg-shaped." I emerge minutes later, camera in hand.

I take photos of the cake.

Then it is Erin and the cake. I look at the cake. The cake does nothing. It is just a cake. I am a human being. I feel the relationship should be simple, but of course, it is not.

"Why?" I ask the cake.

I deduce--perhaps nonsensically due to the flawless condition of the cake--that it must be associated with my neighbor across the street and the top of a car, but instead of calling said neighbor, I do nothing. Perhaps someone will retrieve the cake. Perhaps the cake is a sign. Perhaps the cake will transform into a giant hopping creature. Perhaps rays of light will shoot from it and I will find Jesus. Perhaps I will shrink to the size of a blade of grass and the cake will be my new home.

I unpack the groceries and load the ice cream (French vanilla), cold cuts (smoked turkey) and milk (2 percent) into our refridgerator/freezer, get back in the Mini and leave to complete my errands.

When I come home, the cake is still there.

I approach it once again. "Cake?" I say. The cake does not reply.

I shrug, go inside.

Several hours later, the cake is gone.

I call this neighbor, I call that neighbor. No one knows anything about an egg-shaped cake. I sprinkle Tide onto dirty clothing. I sing an aria. I sculpt a seven-foot hand from plaster of Paris.

* * *


Notes: The weather in Cleveland is currently about 70 degrees and fair. This episode actually occurred in 2005. As evidenced by the white mound in the picture, the snow lasted a bit longer last year. But I was not blogging in spring of 2005 and I thought the story was worth repeating. I trust the good reader does not feel deceived.

Thus far in 2006, no mysterious cakes have appeared in my yard.

To those who might think I have staged this episode: Eff off. I wouldn't buy a cake like that if the effing Easter Bunny knocked on my front door and offered me an effing joint.

For more information on weird erin cakeness, click here. And if you do and you are wondering, the answer is: yes, I still have it.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Erin, it's awesome that you're a writer because you lead a life that DESERVES to be chronicled!

jamwall said...

yo erin, i just got off the phone with "cake control" they said that its just a misplaced young cake. just leave it there until its parent cake comes to retrieve it.

if you see a really huge wedding cake with feet...that's the parent..

Unknown said...

Did I get the flavor right?

Anonymous said...

Dear Erin,

Regarding this comment:

"I wouldn't buy a cake like that if the effing Easter Bunny knocked on my front door and offered me an effing joint."

You've done a lot more for just a beer.

Sincerely,


The Tooth Fairy

mary grimm said...

Thank goodness it wasn't one of those scarey lamb cakes--those freak me out.

Anonymous said...

I bet there was fishing string tided to it and if you did in try to pick it up it would have been pulled away by two chubby 10 year old boys hiding behind the bush.

Hope said...

i would have had my kids eat it to make sure it wasn't poisoned. I would have definately NOT have walked away. I would have picked it up immediately. Cut it open looking for signs of something weird. So I could easily be bombed by a cake...you lift...setting of the explosion. I'm like a mouse that way. SNAP. After mangling the cake I would have put it back on the driveway...thinking 'I don't want to eat a strange left behind cake.' Of course this leaving the Aunt Betty who left it completely mystified when she went back to retrieve it after finding out it was at the wrong address when her daughter said 'What cake?' You can't give me anything. I mean really.

Erin O'Brien said...

kisses: as they say, you can't have your cake and eat it too. and i wanted to have a cake anonymously installed at the end of my drive for as long as possible.

megan: maybe i'll transfer that idea to my husband and some cheez whiz.

denny: you have just passed the first test for becoming my personal assistant.

nicole: i'm glad someone is receiving my broadcast.

jamwall: shit. as if i don't have enough to worry about.

zany: incidentally, i did not detail the items that i pulled from the adult toy store bag.

Michael: baby, you got it aaawwlll right.

tooth fairy: eff off!

lucette: if my anonymous egg cake doesn't freak you out, girl, then i just don't know what.

nadina: little effers probably were hidden in the bushes!

HD: i like your approach. although what sort of aunt betty leaves her effing egg cake on the driveway? yeah, yeah ...

Hope said...

the same aunt betty who leaves birthday gifts lodged between the screen door and the front door. sheesh?

josh williams said...

On occasions like this I always ignore the cake, it is best not even to act like you see the cake.
I ate a slice of cake when I was but a wee lad. (TRUE) I came home from school saw a cake without icing and cut a slice since it was my birthday and did not figure the shit would be to deep, what with birthday immunity.
My mom came home from the store and after some chit chat and her noticing the cake, she laughed and laughed. Seems Myrtle our Beagle had climbed up on the table and licked all the icing off my cake which I had plundered. Who would have thougt my mom and best friend Myrtle would do such a thing, so I kind of have a cake phobia.Why is it everytime I'm a little fucker I get bit in the ass?

Deborah said...

I would have fallen on that cake like a pack of dingos on that one ladies baby.