Case Closed

"Hey Ossifer, I'd like to report a crime! I don't know who or what is responsible, but my black and white cake has been badly battered. What's left of it, that is. It's only crumbs. Crumbs, I said. Crumbs!" My initial thought was maybe it was a hate crime. Possibly the two sides got into a brawl, but looking back it appeared the two sides resided in complete harmony. One couldn't even exist without the other. Upon closer examination, it looked to be a crime of passion. A passion for cake. The officer asked, "where did you get said cake?" "Across the street," I answered. "Bodega?" he asked. "No, bigger than a bodega, but smaller than a supermarket," I replied. "Look, right there, the store across the street from my apartment." The barrage of tough questioning continued about things I really didn't feel comfortable discussing or being associated with. Questions about where I buy my groceries, and what it is I buy.

Officer: Organics?

Me: No. Not a chance.

Officer: Produce?

Me: Could Hedda Lettuce have done this?

Officer: Expiration dates?

Me: Way passed.

Officer: Entenmann's?

Me: Er. Yes. Aisles full.

I started to feel like primo suspecto, numero uno. They either blame the victim or focus on those closest to the victim. They chose the latter. To focus. On me!

Officer: Your cake?

Me: Yes, Sir. It was Entenmann's, but that's not a crime, or is it?

Then I crumbled. "Okay. Okay. I admit it. I did it. It was me. That night I turned in around 10:30pm. Doors locked. Lights out. Cake safely atop counter. Low and behold before I knew it, by 4am, the cake was almost gone. I had, allegedly, been getting up during the night, and with my hands, my bare hands, was breaking off a chunk of the white and then a chunk of the black and then on my way back to bed taking a swig of milk from the fridge. Apparently I must have done this at least a half a baker's dozen times, and when I woke up in the morning the cake was almost gone. Torn apart. Savagely torn apart. This was not premeditated. Swear.

(But unfortunately I am a repeat offender. Now. Last night I ate an entire box of Entenmann's Madeleines during the course of the night. You get a dozen or so in the package. They cost under $5 (these were on sale for $2.99), about the same for two tiny cakes at Starfucks. And they're better! Purely delicious petite butter cakes. No joke. The proof is on the package. It says "Our golden butter Madeleines are baked into a delicate seashell shape and have a tender, moist and sophisticated flavor. Delicious served as a snack, or as part of a dessert - enjoyed by adults and children alike. Enjoy!" See? Hey food snobs, eff off! This isn't just a recession special. It's a fact. Entenmann's Madeleines are better than any other. Although, you don't have to eat the entire package in one sitting, if you can help it. Oh, and a black and white cake is like a black and white cookie, only larger. Much larger. About 12x8, infact. Oooph.)