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Piece Of Cake

A maybe too short tale

By Phoebe Srekubea MantePublished 2 years ago 3 min read
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Piece Of Cake
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

“So baking date at your place this Saturday?”

I could tell she was very excited about it and was probably imagining the whole event in her mind already. And I also knew, I was about to fuck up.

“Yeah, sure, definitely,” I responded with more enthusiasm than I actually had in me.

“Great!”, she said, “I’ll put that on my schedule then. Late afternoon sounds good, right? It should give you time to prepare. I don’t want to inconvenience you.” I heard the sound of pages being flipped. She was actually writing it down. That means it was official. Boy oh boy, I was in deep, I thought frantically. How did I even get myself into this mess?

“Hello?”, I heard her say, “Are you still there?”. I quickly recovered from my thoughts and cleared my throat. It was drying up quite quickly.

“Erm, yeah yeah. Late afternoon sounds great. I can come pick you up at 2 pm…”

“Oh don’t bother, just send me your address or live location. I’ll find my way there.”, she cut in.

Classic DeeDee, I thought, smiling instinctively. She’d never let me stress to get her.

“DeeDee, you know I like picking you up myself.”, I protested lightly. I already knew her answer would be no, no matter how hard I tried, but I wasn’t going to give in without a fight.

“I know. I promise I’ll let you pick me up for our next outing.” She said that the last two times we’d gone out together.

“Besides, I want to start getting familiar with the routes.”. Again, she had said that more times than I remember. But I decided not to push her. My plate was already full from all indications, so I agreed.

We spoke for a few more minutes over the phone about some nonsenses. It was difficult paying attention to conversations when you’re trying to get yourself out of sticky situations like this one. Finally, we said our goodbyes and that’s when all the panic and regret set in.

Holy Moses, what am I doing? I asked myself. There was no way I knew how to bake. I hardly knew the basics of baking, except for the fact that there was always flour and sugar and butter and stuff. I needed a plan and fast. Just then my phone rang. It was my baby sister Rukky. I knew I was in for another round of trouble, but I picked up anyway.

“Hi Rukky”

“JAMSSS! You wicked soul! God is watching you!”, were the first three sentences she blasted into the phone. My eardrums were not very pleased with the frequency.

“Rukky, at this rate I'll need hearing aids by the time I turn 50.”, I protested in mock pain and worry. “But I think I deserved that.”, I added quickly as a subtle way to defend myself from more screams.

“Of course you do”, she screamed again. “You’ve abandoned me now that you have a sweet one eh. Oh, vibe. It’s all good”

“Oh no, how can I abandon my little cupcake like that?”, I asked innocently.

“Don’t try to play innocent. When was the last time you called to checkup? And when was the last time you came home to see us?”

“Ruks, it’s not my fault…”

“Has it ever been your fault?”

“Ruks, don’t be like that. You know big brother JamJam loves you.”

“Oh please. Don’t sweet talk me”, she said. I could tell she was getting worked up a bit and I was getting uncomfortable. Hearing her like that cos of me was very unsettling.

“Okay, okay. I’ll make it up to you.”, I said. My brain started working out ways to correct this new predicament. A cash alert maybe?? Or the pair of shoes she’s been posting on her story for the past few days?

“No”, she said defiantly. This was getting harder by the second. “No more waffles and pancakes for you, until you prove to me that I’ve not been abandoned.”

“Oh Ruks, but..”

“Uh uh. No buts.”

I knew she meant it and I didn’t want her to stay mad at me. She was my little angel. The pastries didn’t even matter. Just then an idea popped into my head. A brilliant, amazing, fantastic one. I couldn’t believe my luck.

Mystery
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About the Creator

Phoebe Srekubea Mante

I write about Business, Lifestyle and Self-development.

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