So, a few months ago, I had written about being a cake fairy for my friends. I was recounting this story to someone else, and I finally recalled the exact circumstances under which I became the accursed cake fairy.
[How many times did I use the term ‘cake fairy’ up there? Far too many is how many. Moving on!]
I had been experimenting with baking for a while, trying out recipes out of books of celebrated chefs. I was wary of Internet recipes because I had tried a few and failed dramatically. So I found a chocolate cake recipe that looked sufficiently idiot-proof, and tried that. It turned out well.
The next day, while chatting with a fellow food-obsessed colleague who loved to cook, I brought up the cake. He said that next time I baked, he would love to have a slice. I nodded and left it at that.
A few weeks later, I made the cake again, and it turned out better than the first. Remembering my conversation with my colleague, I took half the cake, in 4 thick slices, to work. One was for him, and the others for whoever sat at my table.
In retrospect, I should have known this would cause problems. Because when has anyone ever learned to keep their mouths shut?
The first pain in the ass was UK, he of the Kanpur wedding fame. He came to our table for some work, and saw the box of cake. He was offered some, on the pain of death if he revealed its existence to anyone. He didn’t, to be fair to him, but the others sang like canaries.
The next day, I was cornered by so many of my friends, all demanding how I could have been so mean so as to feed only a fraction of the office with cake. I pleaded in vain, saying that the quantity didn’t justify an email to the whole office, and let’s face it, table above office in terms of loyalty, amirite?
No. A resounding, thigh-slapping, unequivocal negative.
So my punishment was set: I was to be hounded for cake once a day, every day, till I made reparations to the office. Even if I brought a very small amount, it was to go to everyone’s inbox, and each one’s luck would prevail.
And so the cake fairy was born. They carried out that threat, incidentally, till I caved and baked a full cake for the office. What a mistake. Because after that? The following nonsense has happened:
– One chap opened my purse, looking for cake. In my PURSE.
– One chap took the box of crumbs that were left over, and returned the box only the next day.
– One fellow posted on my Facebook timeline, and my mother joined forces with the asses.
And much more besides. The latest cake story was the wedding one. I should have some peace for a while. Here’s hoping!