“I just baked a cake in the shape of a door. Somebody’s knocking now, so let me get that.”

“Debbie had to get up and slice me a thick piece of cake before she could answer. And I do mean thick. Harry Potter volume seven thick. I could have knocked out a burglar with this piece of cake. Once I tasted it, though, it seemed just the right size.”

“I have to go," I say, "I am baking a cake.”

“Call her Betty Fucking Crocker, because the cake was so going to be worth the bake.”

“If you wait for a cake to be given to you so you will be happy- then you will be happy when someone gives you a cake. But if you buy a cake (or bake one) for yourself so you will be happy, you have found the way of happiness.”

“Uriah drops his tray next to me. It is loaded with beef stew and chocolate cake. I stare at the cake pile.“There was cake?” I say, looking at my own plate, which is more sensibly stocked than Uriah’s.“Yeah, someone just brought it out. Found a couple boxes of the mix in the back and baked it,” he says. “You can have a few bites of mine.”“A few bites? So you’re planning on eating that mountain of cake by yourself?”“Yes.” He looks confused. “Why?”“Never mind.”