Pink Panther’s Broken Bits

September 7, 2006

There's a bakery in Park Slope that specializes in fancy, custom-made cakes for high-falutin' big shots with money to burn. At the moment, their cakes are strictly bespoke, but soon they will be opening a store in front of the bakery, where you can own a piece of the magic with slightly more affordable, ready-made creations. Deborah goes there one day a week, sits in a makeshift office amidst stainless steel mixing bowls and flour dust, and does their books.

"I love it there," she said. "The women are so nice, and I'm surrounded by amazing, colorful cakes. It makes me happy. And they let me eat the crumbs!"

"That sounds funny. They let you eat the crumbs. Like something out of a Dickens novel."

"There are a lot of crumbs," she said. "I was looking through their portfolio today. They had a cake shaped like a roulette wheel. Part of it looked like wood -- you know, woodgrain and everything. It looked so real. And they had another one that was a giant dollar bill. The detail was amazing. And there was one made to look like a Louis Vuitton bag—"

"Wait. Who would order a cake shaped like a dollar bill?" I said.

"I have no idea."

"A stripper?"

"Ha, no. That would have to be a twenty-dollar bill."

"Right. Maybe a waitress."

"They made one in the shape of the island of Capri, with mountains and trees and tables with umbrellas, all surrounded by little martizpan yachts. Sixteen hundred dollars."

"You're kidding me."

"No. Isn't that crazy? It's really amazing though."

"Amazing, yeah, but—I mean, it's a cake. Do the mountains spew lava?"

"Ha! No. But I'll suggest it. Anyway, look—"

She handed me a small, sculptured Pink Panther.

"Did you steal that?"

"No!" she said, and slapped my shoulder. "I didn't steal it. They gave it to me. Sometimes someone cancels their order."

"What is it? Martzipan?"

"Yes," she said. "I broke his legs by accident. I tried to be so careful bringing him home. His tail broke off, too."

"Oh well. Should we eat him?"

"If you want to. I got him for you. But I'm pretty sure he's been on the shelf for a couple of weeks."

"Hmm. Why don't we eat his broken bits?"

And so we did.

The end.