Fiction logo

Family emergency! Who stole my slice of cake?

(Short story with chocolate cake)

By Euan BrennanPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
Like
Family emergency! Who stole my slice of cake?
Photo by Alla Hetman on Unsplash

Darryl had prepared himself for a well-earned rest. Watching TV with the legs up was stage one. Stage two consisted of a beverage and food. He wasn't keen on being inebriated so early on a Saturday, so he helped himself to a flavoured drink from the fridge. He had also picked up a chocolate cake from the shops on his commute from work and intended to have a slice whilst relaxing . . . but that's when things went wrong.

Darryl looked over the plate on the counter - the empty plate. The plate where his scrumptious slice of cake should be. This was an outrage, to say the least. Someone had stolen it. Or worse, eaten it. This was his cake and he could think of no greater injustice than someone taking it.

There were four others in the house: his wife, Helena, a strong possibility, his brother, Jim, another strong possibility. Then there were the kids, David and Daisy, two more strong possibilities. How could they do this to him? Were they working together? Did he not deserve cake?

Darryl believed himself to be inerrant, and he knew one of his perfidious family members was responsible. One way or another, he vowed to solve this crime, this unforgivable action.

They had never had a family meeting of this magnitude before but, as they say, there's a first time for everything. Darryl needed to summon them to garner sufficient evidence.

He breathed in, his chest expanding and his stomach shrinking, and yelled, “Attention! Everyone in the living room, now! I call a family meeting of the upmost importance!”

He regretted adding that last bit. If they didn't take him seriously, how was he supposed to find his lost slice of cake? But they saved him from any form of chagrin as they entered one after another.

Jim, the uncle to the kids and brother to Darryl, entered first. He was the tall, lanky type and his dark hair and stubble covered his head like Velcro. His wife, Helena, with her blonde hair tied back and wearing an avian-patterned blouse, entered shortly after Jim. Then came their two kids. David, the older child, with brown hair and brown eyes, wearing a plain blue shirt, sat in the middle of the sofa. Daisy, his younger sister with a floral dress and chestnut hair, sat next to him. Jim and Helena sat on either side of the children.

“Now, would anyone like to guess as to why I have called you all here?”

Daisy raised her hand. “Oh, are we getting another puppy?” she said, her voice jovial and innocent.

Darryl suspected it was merely a facade. “No,” he said.

“Have you finally fixed my car?” asked Jim.

“No. Shut up about that. That ain't happening.”

“Are you sure we're not getting a puppy?” David asked, a sly smirk greeting his lips.

“What part of ‘no’ don't you understand?”

“What crime have you committed?” Helena asked, already tired of her husband's shenanigans.

“Me!?” Darryl said incredulously. “I am not the criminal here. I have never committed a crime.”

“Apart from stealing and wrecking my car,” Jim added.

“Apart from stealing . . . Shut up. No, the criminal here is . . .” he paused for a reason unknown to the family, “one of you!” He pointed to sofa with exaggerated theatrical display and his face fell with disappointment when no one gasped. He cleared his throat. “Allow me to explain. I bought a cake - a chocolate cake - with some money I had put aside, and I desired to enjoy it whilst in front of the TV. Is that so much to ask?" He paced back and forth in the room. “Now, you might ask, ‘But Darryl, what happened to such a wonderful cake?’ Well, I'll tell you. A slice of my delicious cake . . .” He paused again, for some reason, “has been stolen.” He quickly surveyed their faces to gauge the reaction of the guilty culprit. No one moved. No one so much as lifted an eyebrow. “Aha! I see you are all well-trained. But I am justice, and this punishment, this grave sin, will be meted out by this–”

He held up a plastic rod with sharp ends protruding from the tip that sparked as he squeezed the handle.

“Darryl, you're mad,” said his brother.

“Silence!” Darryl screamed and prodded Jim with the electrified end.

“Ow! Hey, stop that!”

“Now, I have no doubt that finding the culprit will take me days – weeks, even. So, for the next five weeks, you will not be going anywhere.”

“Er, honey?” Helena questioned her husband.

“You will each be interrogated by an expert team of individuals. When you meet them, you may think that they all look like me, but I assure you that will not be the case. It is merely a plot to throw you off. And if you do think that is the case . . . then you are sorely mistaken!” He screamed the last part for emphasis.

“Hey, I think I see the slice of cake,” said David, pointing.

Darryl swished his head around and saw nothing resembling his lost treat. He resorted to lifting up magazines and framed pictures. “Where is it, David?” Darryl asked rapidly and pleadingly, still searching.

“Only joking.”

Darryl glared at him. That jape will be an indelible stain on their relationship.

“Dad, you're acting weirder than usual,” said Daisy.

“Silence!”

Another sound of electrocution rumbled through the air.

Jim yelped. “Dammit, Darryl!”

“Mark my words, family - if that's what you can even be called. I will find out what happened to my slice of cake.”

“Do you think maybe the dog did it?” asked Daisy.

“The dog can walk the house with impunity,” Darryl told them.

“What? Why?” Helena demanded.

“Because I told him not to eat it. Dogs are loyal.”

“It's still possible that–”

“Silence!”

Jim jumped from the shock and growled through his clenched teeth at his brother.

“Where is this cake, anyway?” Helena asked rubbing the bridge of her nose. “You said only one slice was missing, right?”

“I will go and get– oh-ho! Nice try! You want me to go get it so you can finish it off! I'm on to you, thief!”

“Helena,” said Jim looking over to her, "I have to ask again: why did you marry him?"

“I was besotted,” she said succinctly.

“Silence!”

“Ow!” screamed Jim. “DARRYL!”

“Darryl, go get the cake,” said Helena calmly.

“I already said that I was on to-"

“Darryl!” Helena demanded.

“Yes, dear,” Darryl said hurriedly and ran to the kitchen. He returned holding a box with a transparent plastic cover. He placed it on the table in front of the family.

“Now we have the evidence,” said Darryl, “who among you will own up?”

The family studied the cake fastidiously. First Helena saw it. Then uncle Jim saw it. Then the kids realised it.

“Honey,” said Helena cautiously.

“Have you chosen to confess, Helena, my lovely, chocolate-thieving wife?”

“Do you mean . . . this cake?” she asked, pointing down at the box.

“Yes, I do. I thought that would have been obvious seeing as I placed the cake on the table. Heh, the irony that someone has robbed the thief of their last brain cell.”

“The cake right in front of us . . . that has yet to be sliced?” Helena added.

Darryl looked down at the delectable, mouth-watering goodness in the form of a baked cake. It was whole. No one had touched it, let alone sliced a piece from it.

Nobody said anything. Darryl didn't lock eyes with anyone. His gaze was permanently on the cake. It was so quiet, Darryl was sure he could hear the earth's rotation. Then the stares of his family became palpable and he felt the perspiration form.

“Right, well, yes, well done. Perfect. You passed. Indeed. Yes. Well done again. This was a test, you see.” A scintilla of fear ran through him and he had little time to ruminate on his actions.

They all rose from the sofa.

“Now that's settled, would any of you like a slice,” Darryl said through his terrified smile, holding the cake pleasingly.

They stepped around the coffee table and advanced like predators on paralysed prey.

“Now, you wouldn't hurt a guy holding a cake, would you?”

They surrounded him.

“Well, I guess this is just– hey, what's that over there!?”

For a brief second, they looked. But a brief second is all it takes.

Darryl ran. He opened the door and hit the streets and his family chased. As his legs moved rapidly, he opened the box and ripped away a slice. He would eat this cake if was the last thing he did.

All the passers-by, all the neighbours who watched them through their windows, everyone who saw the family rolled their eyes and continued on with their business.

Mystery
Like

About the Creator

Euan Brennan

Just another dot on the earth that wishes to entertain people through writing stories of fiction.

I love creating characters and worlds.

Twitter: @Euan_Brennan

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.