Tormie Baarer
06-03-2010, 03:38 PM
I hate singing it.* I wonder what I thought on my first birthday when a dozen people gathered round me in my little chair, while I stared at the chocolate cake that I would soon destroy and wear most of (I've seen pics).
I mean, like, you're this tiny little person and you don't know shit. All you know is you like the sweet, sweet cake and you want to have it, now. Suddenly it's much too dark and your cake is on fire and there's tall people everywhere. No escape and your poor cake is being destroyed. Why won't they do something? Save the cake! Don't just stand there with those sneers, baring your teeth at me! Help! OH GOD! Won't someone help?
You just can't imagine with your tiny, one year old brain how it can get any worse, and horror of horrors. They start SINGING at you, and it's nothing like what Mommy sings before she locks you in the roofless cage at night. Oh, would to be in that cage, safe from this cacophony of sometimes shrill, sometimes flat, wretched noise. This evil incantation goes on and on, and you know you're truly fucked when you recognize a bastardization of your name-word chanted by each one of them.
You sit, trapped in your little chair, feeling baffled and betrayed. Your life is over; your cake in flames.
The singing stops. Everyone is staring at you again. It's eerily silent now. You stare at them staring at you. Is the danger past? You don't trust the people surrounding you. They've subjected you to terror unimaginable. What do they want? My god, what new torture is to come?
You become aware that you must defend yourself! You've got to think fast. How do I evade these trolls? You do the only thing you can think to do. You bawl. You burst into the biggest waterfall of tears and hysteria you've ever experienced in your short, short life. The misery is overwhelming, your face becomes swollen and you can no longer witness them in their dastardly work, your vision so blurred.
Through the sound of your own agonized wails, a voice breaks through, a whisper that grows louder. Someone, maybe more than one is trying to silence you! Never give up! They can't stop me now! Doom to those who would attempt to destroy me! You howl louder, not even crying anymore. Just screaming with every last breath these devil's spawn allow you.
And breathe you must. In the process of taking a great gulp of air, a breath so deep and powerful that the next scream will surely shatter the bones and rend the souls of these baby-hating demons, you are interrupted by a word you have come to know and love. A word so beautiful that angels must have wrought it from rainbows and kitten fur. You hear 'cake'.
What the hell? What new trick is this? The cake has burned! You soulless, twisted creatures! Be gone from this place! Descend into the depths from whence you came!
With renewed strength and determination, you open your mouth, you will inhale! You will not be overcome! Your mouth open wide, eyes narrowed, shoulders squared. Perish you all! I shall vanquish thee with my voice alone! As you're about to let loose the sound to end all sounds, the aural attack that will bring these foul spirits to their knees, you feel something on your tongue. Oi, what is this? Could it be? No, for the imminent destruction was clear. But, this spongy ambrosia..it must be. It is! It is cake! You close your teeny mouth, you taste and chew and swallow. CAKE! Oh, cake...I love you so.
The room is no longer dark, you can see your cake. The fire is out! My cake has been rescued! And oh! the flavor. CAKE!
A chunk of this cylinder of heaven has been lain before you. Immediately, your hand is in it, squeezing it affectionately until it squishes out between your fingers. Delicious! You devour it. You lean in and bite the top off. You devour it all, shoveling it in with both fists.
Finally, leaning back, your belly full as you lick the last crumbs from your lips, you gaze around the room. The beasts seem smaller now, their faces no longer contorted. They are contentedly munching on the remnants of your cake. You are benevolent, generous. You raise no chubby, little hand to stop them. Let them taste the flavor of good. Perhaps it will turn them from their wicked ways.
So soon after the gut-wrenching, heinous events unfold, the memory of them begins to fade. The wonder of cake has exorcised the corruption from this place. You drift off to sleep.
Upon waking again in that roofless cage, you can barely recall the time before. Only wispy imprints of sugary goodness. Ah, yes, cake and the world, are good.
Little do you know, every year henceforth this ritual will repeat. You will never know why, but each time the lights dim and voices raise unified under guise of celebration, you will shiver a little and feel an intense, if short-lived aversion to those around you. You will have the urge to flee.
But, there will be cake.
I mean, like, you're this tiny little person and you don't know shit. All you know is you like the sweet, sweet cake and you want to have it, now. Suddenly it's much too dark and your cake is on fire and there's tall people everywhere. No escape and your poor cake is being destroyed. Why won't they do something? Save the cake! Don't just stand there with those sneers, baring your teeth at me! Help! OH GOD! Won't someone help?
You just can't imagine with your tiny, one year old brain how it can get any worse, and horror of horrors. They start SINGING at you, and it's nothing like what Mommy sings before she locks you in the roofless cage at night. Oh, would to be in that cage, safe from this cacophony of sometimes shrill, sometimes flat, wretched noise. This evil incantation goes on and on, and you know you're truly fucked when you recognize a bastardization of your name-word chanted by each one of them.
You sit, trapped in your little chair, feeling baffled and betrayed. Your life is over; your cake in flames.
The singing stops. Everyone is staring at you again. It's eerily silent now. You stare at them staring at you. Is the danger past? You don't trust the people surrounding you. They've subjected you to terror unimaginable. What do they want? My god, what new torture is to come?
You become aware that you must defend yourself! You've got to think fast. How do I evade these trolls? You do the only thing you can think to do. You bawl. You burst into the biggest waterfall of tears and hysteria you've ever experienced in your short, short life. The misery is overwhelming, your face becomes swollen and you can no longer witness them in their dastardly work, your vision so blurred.
Through the sound of your own agonized wails, a voice breaks through, a whisper that grows louder. Someone, maybe more than one is trying to silence you! Never give up! They can't stop me now! Doom to those who would attempt to destroy me! You howl louder, not even crying anymore. Just screaming with every last breath these devil's spawn allow you.
And breathe you must. In the process of taking a great gulp of air, a breath so deep and powerful that the next scream will surely shatter the bones and rend the souls of these baby-hating demons, you are interrupted by a word you have come to know and love. A word so beautiful that angels must have wrought it from rainbows and kitten fur. You hear 'cake'.
What the hell? What new trick is this? The cake has burned! You soulless, twisted creatures! Be gone from this place! Descend into the depths from whence you came!
With renewed strength and determination, you open your mouth, you will inhale! You will not be overcome! Your mouth open wide, eyes narrowed, shoulders squared. Perish you all! I shall vanquish thee with my voice alone! As you're about to let loose the sound to end all sounds, the aural attack that will bring these foul spirits to their knees, you feel something on your tongue. Oi, what is this? Could it be? No, for the imminent destruction was clear. But, this spongy ambrosia..it must be. It is! It is cake! You close your teeny mouth, you taste and chew and swallow. CAKE! Oh, cake...I love you so.
The room is no longer dark, you can see your cake. The fire is out! My cake has been rescued! And oh! the flavor. CAKE!
A chunk of this cylinder of heaven has been lain before you. Immediately, your hand is in it, squeezing it affectionately until it squishes out between your fingers. Delicious! You devour it. You lean in and bite the top off. You devour it all, shoveling it in with both fists.
Finally, leaning back, your belly full as you lick the last crumbs from your lips, you gaze around the room. The beasts seem smaller now, their faces no longer contorted. They are contentedly munching on the remnants of your cake. You are benevolent, generous. You raise no chubby, little hand to stop them. Let them taste the flavor of good. Perhaps it will turn them from their wicked ways.
So soon after the gut-wrenching, heinous events unfold, the memory of them begins to fade. The wonder of cake has exorcised the corruption from this place. You drift off to sleep.
Upon waking again in that roofless cage, you can barely recall the time before. Only wispy imprints of sugary goodness. Ah, yes, cake and the world, are good.
Little do you know, every year henceforth this ritual will repeat. You will never know why, but each time the lights dim and voices raise unified under guise of celebration, you will shiver a little and feel an intense, if short-lived aversion to those around you. You will have the urge to flee.
But, there will be cake.