The Cake

          During the past years, his only daughter Emma had been the only celebrant at his Birthday parties, but at that point she had not arrived yet.  Butch Greenfield was turning seventy-five this time, and there was a tear in his eye as he looked at seven people sitting at the dining room table. William and Walter were there too. Exact twins, tall, willowy and blonde, Will had disappeared into the kitchen while Walter was talking to Butch.

           “Did you know I had my own will drawn up and I left it at the bank. It’s always a good idea to take care of things like that, don’t you think?”

           “Actually, two weeks I did. I took care of it. I even redid it, and included most the family. You are in then now too,” Butch said.

           Suddenly William, burst out of the kitchen with the cake, candles lit and everyone began to sing the birthday song.

           Butch cried, “Where is Emma! We should wait until she gets here, shouldn’t we? I know she wants to be here too.”

One of the middle-aged cousins dropped out of the song and talked to him about his concern. His name was Fred.

           “We’ve been waiting for her for a long time, Uncle B. We called her, and she didn’t even pick up. Life goes on. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

           The song ended, and Butch blew out the candles on the cake. The icing was strawberry, but when he cut into it, he was surprised. The cake was chocolate! He missed chocolate; hadn’t had it for years. This was a wonderful surprise. He forgot about his daughter and his presents, instead enjoying the taste of his cake with a smile on his face.

           In minutes, he’d eaten most of his piece of cake. Emma burst into the dining room, and he held his fork in the air. It did not make it to his mouth.

           She was in a tizzy, “I was told the party was not to start until three, and besides that I was slowed down by red lights and traffic and a phone battery that went dead. And who made this cake! Dad put that fork down. I’ve told you a thousand times, you got allergic to chocolate ten years ago.” Whirling around, she faced the rest the family, “You all knew that too! Who brought this damned cake!”

           No one responded. Absolute silence. Butch tilted forward on his plate mumbling that he loved chocolate. Then he fell backwards, off his chair and onto the floor. He had a seizure and then he got pasty white. Emma went down and tried to help him, but it was too late. He had passed away. She stood up, enraged and screaming.

           “So how many of you knew he’d won the Florida Lotto last week? And how many knew about the new proviso in his will? Just divide his millions between you either way, with or without the will?? Slice it up anyway?”

           Emma ran forward into William’s chair, knocking him over. Then she grabbed at the closest person, fingernails pointed out and everyone got up and ran for the front door, job done. Their financial future secure with Uncle Butch’s good luck and chocolate cake!