Real Cake

It is a busy day. My mother is having a party. People show up at the door, even panhandlers and people selling the Book of Mormon. I look through the letters by the front door. There is a carbon copy of a letter I once sent to my friend about my dad. So he knows I have betrayed him! My dad is throwing a fit because someone has brought out a dessert which is only fruit. My mother tells him that this dessert was very expensive. I tell them that I hate it when they are angry. – I’m not angry, my dad says. I just wanted a real cake.