A Piece Of Cake

Mel was really cooking with his idea of how to win over Patricia.

Contest Prompt

'Write a story or poem about someone making chocolate cupcakes for the first time.'

“Sheesh.” Making chocolate cupcakes from scratch was more involved than how to get to heaven. Mel read the recipe over again to clear the mental fog.

“Can you help?” He asked the baker behind the counter at the closest grocery store.

Mel juggled the bags of eggs, flour, cocoa, sugar, salt, baking soda, milk, vegetable oil, vanilla oil, and coffee in his hands while finishing his taste test of the bakery’s version melting in his mouth. “Heaven on earth.”

Mel had never created the homemade kind before. Patrice was an award winning pastry chef. She was also the cutest, most fun girl he’d ever met. “Just met.” He wanted the second get-together to be unforgettable. “This plan has got to work.”

The next grocery basket stop was the kitchen supplies aisle. Mel unfolded the bottom part of his instructions, reading them aloud as a second employee shoveled them into his basket, “standard 12 cup muffin pan, paper cupcake liners, large bowl, mixing spatula, measuring cup, wisk, and a prayer sent to God.”

“Just in case.” Mel’s second trip back to the ingredients aisle filled his basket into a mountain of supplies. “Might have to practice.”

The bill was astronomical. “Should have asked Patrice out on a date. It would have been cheaper.” But Mel didn’t want to be just another average Joe. He wanted a full court press. If Patricia was a cupcake, Mel would have eaten her up without a second thought. “Can’t be too Forward. This has to look natural.”

The church bazaar featuring hand made goods and tasty goodies was coming up close on the calendar. Mel got paid back a few favors. His old kitchen now looked like its futuristic counterpart. The experimental stove had a ton of space age buttons and features, one of which was making and baking the chocolate cupcakes with Mel's help.

“Am I a little nervous or what?” Mel asked it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” The oven’s built in A.I. female voice responded. Mel had his new stove play some calming music as he fed his list of ingredients and cooking instructions to it.

“Ready, Mel. Place the cooking utensils on the stove top and ingredients within easy reach.”

“There you go.” Mel flourished a finger and pressed it against the cook button. Things levitated and mixed when they were supposed to. They swished, blended, and deposited themselves right where they belonged. Mel followed along, both eyes center front, as he checked off the cooking steps.

“Oops. Shouldn’t matter if she knows what she’s doing.” Somehow the stove had acquired a female status. Mel had forgotten to buy a package of toothpicks. One should have been inserted in the middle of a cupcake to see if it came out clean.

“Divine.” The ultimate taste test proved the results were spectacular.



“You cooked these?” Patricia licked her fingertips. “They taste better than I could have made them.”

Mel stopped staring around at the hustle and bustle preparations of the church bazaar. “God’s honest truth, right in my own oven."

“I’ve got to get to know you better. Here’s my phone number. Give me a call when this bash is over. Can you make a few dozen more? These will sell like hotcakes.”

Success. “Sure. I’ll go make them now and bring them right over.” Mel knew by the look in Patricia’s eyes that he’d made himself unforgettable.

His cupcakes were the number one, top best seller at the bazaar. People outbid each other so madly that it became a push and shove frenzy. The priest was called in to ask them to do a special confession the upcoming Sunday.

“More donations for the church,” Patricia laughed with Mel. “Say. I can’t wait to get to know you better. Can we get together now?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Patricia flung off her pastry chef’s hat and apron, ignored the fact that her chocolate cupcakes had gone unsold, and marched Mel out the church door. “They can clean up. I have to know how you made those cupcakes.”

Patricia was all over him while he drove back home, asking questions about brands of ingredients Mel had never heard of. “I use just the common variety any grocery store sells.”

It boggled her mind. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard of you professionally. You just do this at home in your own kitchen. I’ll buy the secret of your success and sell the new cupcakes at my pastry shop in your name.” Her fingers wove curls in Mel’s hair as he parked in his driveway.

Mel had laid out the remaining batch of ingredients and cleaned cooking utensils on top of the oven ready for service. “My. My. I like a self confident man.” Patricia squeezed Mel’s arm and deposited a kiss on his cheek. “Show me what you’ve got.”

She whipped out a small notebook and pen from a pocket, preparing to write what she saw down. Mel, dizzy with her touch, found it hard to let go. “It’s really nothing at all. You can do it as easily as this.”

He held onto Patricia as he leaned over and pushed the cook button. Things levitated before her eyes. They poured, measured, swished, mixed and flew together before depositing the mix as the oven top slid open, in cup muffin pans inside the oven. “Ready in twenty minutes,” the A.I. girl chimed in.

Patricia would have fainted on the floor if she hadn’t been frozen to the spot she stood on. “I’m going to be replaced by A.I.” She turned to Mel. One shaky index finger raised up to press against his lips. “You’ve got to keep this secret for as long as you can. No. Better yet, send the oven back saying it’s not working right. I’ll figure out what to tell them.”

Mel knew when to go with the flow. The future was inevitable, but it now included him.

WC 992