The Eighth Page

Don’t Touch His Cake

I am really mad at my brother. Over break, my parents went out to the Cheesecake Factory and brought me back a delicious slice of cake. I put my name on it, as is a must in a many sibling household. Yet, when I came back at 1:00 a.m. the next night, pumped about enjoying the delight that was waiting for me in the fridge, I was shocked. The cake was gone. I instantly knew the culprit and was not surprised to find an empty cake container beside my brother’s computer. As revenge, I am printing this love letter he wrote to his girlfriend in The Phillipian. I have included parenthetical commentary. He is nineteen and a tool. I usually dream every night And last night there was no change Yet there was something odd with my dream For my dream last night was strange. It was not a long dream, in fact, It was rather short and sweet, Kind of like Angelica (What a terrific play on words! Idiot) Who’s nice and a little over 5 feet. (Sure knows how to charm them…) And yet, this dream managed to have A powerful effect on me, For in this dream, I thought of the most Beautiful poem the world will ever see. To Angelica- I told you this already, But what I may not have mentioned to you Was that the world’s most beautiful poem Was sur la sujet de tu. (This is French for “about you”) I woke up with tears of joy in my eyes And sat there in the dark I had seen the most beautiful thing in the universe I had opened the temple’s lost ark (Notice the biblical allusion. Clever kid.) And just like Khublai Khan (Notice the allusion to Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Clever kid.) That poem faded from my head And so as part apology and part expression I decided to write this one instead. It is difficult for a female To consider the teenage male brain Where one thinks of sex every three seconds (We are addicted to it like cocaine.) Yet, something recently happened An interesting phenomenon With a start I suddenly realized All my sex thoughts were gone. Because something more important to me Had taken the sex thoughts’ place When I tried to think of anything All I could see was your face. I decided to take a shower Which usually helps when my brain is fried But I could not think of anything else. No matter how hard I tried Everything I saw Reminded me of you I was in a plight And did not know what to do. What’s this feeling I feel That has captured me so It has grabbed my heart And it won’t let go. Alas, it is you that has my heart And put it in a box One that is heart shaped (Notice the allusion to hit Nirvana song, “Heart Shaped Box”.) And clicked shut the locks. Thanks for taking my cake, jerk. Let this be a lesson to you all: don’t touch Kenny Gould’s cake.