The Cake

Mr. Johnson, a male about 35 years old, tall and thin decided that he wanted to buy a cake. This was a man that had no reason to be buying a cake, he simply thought he would obtain one. Many people did not know much about Mr. Johnson. All they knew of him that he lived in the old abandoned house that was believed to be haunted on 5th Maple St. The house was old, painted a unique shade of green, had several broken windows, and lots of little creepy figurines laid around the front lawn. Many wondered why someone as lonely as Mr. Johnson would want to buy a cake. This question lingered around for a couple of days. No one seemed to want to ask him about it. They were more so afraid of him. There was nothing wrong with about him just that he lived in that house all alone for years. Days passed by and one of the neighbors saw Mr. Johnson walking out of his house wearing all black, looking suspicious. Holding a book about cakes, he would walk down the street removing every trash can lid as he walked by. The book was titled 100 ways to make amazing cakes to impress your friends, made it stranger only because of the fact that he had no friends. He walked and walked for hours in search for the perfect cake to set his needs. Mr. Johnson walked until he found this little bakery. It was one of those mom and pop shops that sold every little yummy, good smelling pastry ever made. Mr. Johnson turned and tried to walk in, but couldn’t because the door was locked. While stopping to question himself, a drop of rain fell upon his left cheek. Noticing the rain drop he ran back home. Once he got home he found a letter in the mail saying that his old sick mother had just been killed last night at 8:50 p.m. Having no strength to panic he went straight to bed. A few weeks passed and Mr. Johnson had still not gotten over the death of his mother, and he was getting enraged. Somehow that want for a cake grew inside of him more than ever but every time he went to that little bakery they never seemed to be opened. The neighbor across the street saw him everyday go to the little mom and pop bakery and never come home with a cake. Mr. Johnson always came back looking extremely gloomy. Day after day nothing would happen. That cake he so desired felt to get farther and farther away from being a reality to Mr. Johnson. Night after night he prayed about how much he wanted to feel the rich goodness of the cake flowing down his throat. Finally on March 9^th, 2003 he was able to walk into the bakery for the first time. The happiness grew within him. Standing behind the counter was this little old lady who looked to be in her late 60s early 70s. She stood there for a bit until she ushered him into the back to see the most perfect cake ever seen by man. Mr. Johnson worried for a second about going back there with the little old lady. Sweat fell down his forehead from the images dancing in his head of what this amazingly perfect cake would look like and taste like. To his surprise there was no cake back there only a big meat cleaver in witch the old lady took to chop him up. Piece by piece she picked up from the ground and went over to wash. As she finished washing a piece she would place the piece into a cake pan. Then she poured a yellow cake mix into the pan. Then put the pan into the over to sit in the oven for about an hour. Once it was done she delivered the cake to a house. Days went by when no one saw Mr. Johnson leave or come back to his house. Only to one neighbor found a pink and white frosted cake sitting in front of there door step saying “RIP Mr. Johnson.”