Cake and Parties!
Nah, I don’t even think cake is that great. But I do very much enjoy having amazing friends, and today is a rather memorable day for two of them.
It is the second anniversary of a tragic food consumption accident that nearly destroyed their relationship (as seen below). The cake was of course executed with extreme prejudice, chopped into tiny pieces, and viciously devoured by the room full of people starved specifically for this purpose. Survivors of the event questioned during the aftermath described the it as both delicious and tasteful.
However, this is not a tale of the generals of the 1st great cake war of 2007. No, this is a story focusing on a mere foot soldier of that great battle. An emissary of right, in a world gone terribly wrong. A study of the underprivileged, the outclassed, and the unknown. This is the tale of the Dan.
A docile creature by nature, the Dan was coerced into participation in the events surrounding the cake war by promises of inclusion and participation in the great circle giving ceremony. Little did he remember, being a usher is like being the retarded inbred 3rd cousin of the wedding party… all of the suiting up, horrible view of the ceremony, none of the fun. (But he was at least given a gift!) However, this particular Dan was about to discover that ushering was the least of his problems that weekend. For you see, two years ago today, I was a teenage Canadian pop star flower girl. Now you know why Mike and Sonja are laughing, despite being viciously attacked by cake in the photo above.
At this point, dear reader, you are probably wondering why, oh sweet merciful Lord, why would you allow such a horrible thing to happen to such a nice person. Or perhaps you’re wondering why you are bothering to read a story that jumps between first, second, and third person so liberally. Either way, you don’t even know the half of it.
For you see my friends had hatched (literally in this case) a diabolical scheme, years in the making, to ensure that this would be one of the worst nights of my life. After the exciting beginning in the ring exchange building where I was coerced into playing the role of flower tosser, Kwen and Lacey buttered me up with tales of how they also are old and uncool (at heart), all the while planning to deliver unto my lap a ticking time bomb in the guise of a horribly cute child.
And then I got pooped on. (Picture taken mere moments before alleged pooping.)
Surely, that must be the end of this horrible night, you say. To you I reply: Not even close. For you see this scheme was so devious, so underhanded, so dastardly, that it even employed the one publicly known weakness of the Dan. The one thing that is capable of causing even more pain and tears than baby food disposal and general emasculation in front of hundreds of people.
The Dance.
Knowing that the Dan would never willingly subject himself (and by proxy, everyone else) to such pain and suffering, an undercover agent was sent to entice our woeful protagonist into the lair of The Dance.
While The Dance itself holds very little control over your average Dan (and in return, the average Dan claims no dominion over The Dance), its agents were tenacious in their insistence that our outclassed, outgunned, and outmaneuvered hero prove his unworthiness for at least the 1/2 a song they could handle staying near him before fleeing, leaving the Dan alone in awkward silence with The Dance. Such situations usually end in tears and torment, with this one probably being no different for all I remember.
So there you have it. A tale of fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles… All masterminded by these two.
And while yes, most of it was a bit embarrassing, I wouldn’t trade any moment of it for the world.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some sad walking away to do.
(Happy Anniversary Mike and Sonja, and may you together steal Woooo!’s for many years to come.)
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