Susan Senator

Why does cake got to be so good?
–Eric Clapton, from Derek and the Dominos
Nobody loves you when you’re round and stout
–Eric Clapton

I woke up this morning with a fierce belly ache
I was feelin’ the effects of the B Birthday cake
I had eaten too much of that blue Baki
And now my debauchery doth mock me.

The problem at hand is the dread dinner hour
The mere thought of cooking is making me cower
I thought if I wrote something in a blog post
I’d get an idea that was better than toast.

But now my tummy is hurting real bad
Because of the little snack that I had
You see, 5 o’clock is my worst time of day
And that leftover cake would not go away

So I cut off a tiny piece, just a wee sliver
I dropped it onto my tongue — felt a shiver
Oh sweet delight, my taste buds awoke
My traitorous stomach said, “Illness? A joke!”

I swallowed it down, I couldn’t stop there
I scraped off the knife, then I sniffed at the air
I could smell the sugar, just feel it all ’round
Surely I could suck just a little more down?

And then I disappeared and a demon took over
She got out the frosting can, tore off its cover
And started to spread bits onto edges of cake
And shoved in great mouthfuls, till craven cravin’ was slaked

I looked down at Baki and the mess I had made
When Benji comes downstairs, all hell will be paid
I cleaned it all up, as best as I could
I threw out the frosting, oh demonic food

I came over here to recover a bit
of my sick little belly, my dignity, and my wit
If I’m to make dinner ‘ere the hour of seven
It had better be good — like Penne from Heaven

If I can trick the boys into liking the pasta
They maybe won’t notice the cake-like disastah
I’m afraid that I will just never learn
To shrug off the craving, to live with the yearn.