Monty and his Slices

This is a loaf of pound cake. This is a very distraught loaf of pound cake. His name is Monty. As with all cakes, he was pregnant with slices. Monty could not decide what fate would befall his pieces. Would they be an afternoon snack? After dinner dessert? An unhealthy breakfast? Perhaps they would be beautiful, or maybe hideous. Monty was worried. He wanted his slices to be amazing tasting. He wanted people to eat them. He wanted his slices to make someone happy. He did not want some slacker slices who sit in the Tupperware container all week long, accumulating bacteria, age, and even mold. They would disgrace his name. His reputation would be tarnished. As Monty sat on the wire rack, he pondered the future. He glanced over at the bowl next to him. What is this? Strawberries? In winter? Monty was overjoyed. Strawberries were promising. Not only did they look fashionably fabulous, but they were tasty. His pieces going to have many blessings and not only would they look nice, if the cutting went well, but-OH! Monty inaudibly groaned in pain. The knife! He was getting cut!The first piece was thin, too thin. It was too premature. Would it still be eaten? And the first piece, too! This did not look well, it forebode tragedy. Monty was almost crazy with anxiety. But, okay, the next piece was cut, and it wasn't so puny. It was actually sort of gorgeous. The next three pieces were great, too. And then, oh, the knife cut a tiny sliver of a piece off, a crooked sliver. What? Monty was confused. Who would want such a small piece? Now Monty saw, the piece was being added to his stunted firstborn. He chuckled in relief. He looked over at the nearby table. There seemed to be a commotion. A sibling rivalry! One of his pieces was competing with the other in some sort of beauty contest. He watched.

One piece was Clarisse. She was had strawberries scattered on her surface and around her plate. It was very artistic, or so thought Monty. She even had a sprig of greenery sprouting out of her top. Monty blushed to think of the frivolity, but it did his heart proud to see how pretty she looked. Clarisse looked very appetizing and Monty was astounded that she was really, at heart, just a piece of pound cake, like himself. She looked like she was a gourmet creation, and not fraught of humble beginnings.



The other piece was Emily. She was rather plain, and her strawberries were heaped in a rainbow-like arc over her surface. Her crust was a very becoming golden brown and the juice of the strawberries on her was a nice touch. Emily was a humble piece, and she did not really care about superficiality and fashion. It was odd that she was even in the beauty pageant competition at all. But Monty was proud of her effort to be nice-looking, even if it failed.




Monty watched as the winner of the competition was announced. It was Clarisse. It was no surprise to him, and he was happy for Clarisse, but he was sad for Emily, too. They were finally taken away to be eaten, and Monty was happy that his pieces had achieved the glory of being devoured. He was shoved into a Tupperware not soon after and, while it was sad to be put away, his fears for his slices were also put to rest, with the belief that pound cake, ugly or beautiful, cannot help but be eaten.