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The Day We Had King Cake
by V. Lee Parker I know you’ve probably guessed by looking at me. I am the head secretary in the District Attorney’s office for this parish. See these here shoes. I got them at Mervyn’s in Shreveport. They are my special work shoes. They look like high heels but are really soft and comfy inside on account of my bunions. I got bad bunions. Everybody in my family’s got bad bunions. Aunt Eula says it’s the Parker family curse. Pap has them worst than anything you ever seen. They look like giant horns coming out the side of his feet. He has to keep propped up in his recliner – the one I was able to get him on account of doing so well with my job. You should have seen my sister Melinda’s face – she like to died with envy. Well anyway, I try to dress nice for work in spite of my bunions. Next week me and Darlene, my friend from work, are going back to Shreveport to get our legs waxed. We ain’t never done anything like that before, but we figure we’re working women now and we got to keep up our appearances. The next thing I want to do is get one of them fancy ladies’ briefcases. Miss Cyntha Wannamaker has one. She’s one of our Assistant DA’s here, and that girl has style. You should see her hair. She looks for the world like Jennifer Aniston on that Friends show. Darlene thinks she looks like Britney Spears but classier. Just as cute as can be and a darling personality. She goes to First Baptist like me. I think our Youth Minister, Gary, is sweet on her, but he can forget it. Cyntha Wannamaker has bigger fish to fry. The fact is she’s always going down to New Orleans. That’s where her boyfriend lives. They went to law school together down there and have been dating steady for two years. Can you imagine? They are separated by hundreds of miles and are still dating. But if you could see Cyntha, you would understand why. She is just a sweetheart. Everyone says so. Always thinking of the people at the office, always a kind word for everyone she meets, even the criminals. Why just the other day, she brought us a big old cake made out of sweet roll dough. She said it was called a King Cake and down in New Orleans everyone eats it at Mardi Gras time. She said it’s a tradition down there. Well we were just as excited as could be. All the lawyers in the office have been down to New Orleans, but not me and Darlene. And as for Sheree, our file clerk – she claims to have been down there but me and Darlene know better. She’s always acting like she’s been places and knows a lot, but she’s just as ignorant as we are. One time she took off a week from work and told us she’d been to New York City. We knew that was a lie. Ended up she’d rented a bunch of movies at the Video Barn and stayed in her trailer for a week. We know cause Darlene’s cousin Darryl works at the Video Barn. He said she rented Pretty Woman and Sleepless in Seattle and stuff like that. So anyway, we were mighty impressed when Cyntha laid out the beautiful sweet roll cake with its purple and green and gold sprinkles and white icing dribbled all over it. Darlene ran and got a knife and we started cutting it up and serving it right away. We hadn’t sunk our teeth into the first bite when Sheree starts screaming, “I got the baby. I got the baby.” See, Cyntha had told us there was a little plastic baby hid on the inside of the cake and whoever got it would get a special surprise. “What could it be?” me and Darlene was saying. “Ha,”said Sheree. “Y’all are so country bumpkin, y’all don’t even know.” “As if you do,” Darlene said. “At least I been to New Orleans,” Sheree said. Her nose was all up in the air. Well when Sheree got that baby, you’d a thought she’d won the lottery. She was hopping up and down and sticking that baby in everyone’s face. Darlene and me, we just about got disgusted and left the kitchen. It’s a good thing we stuck around cause Sheree the genius decided her baby was a little dirty with all that cake and icing still stuck to it and instead of washing it off in the kitchen sink like any normal person would do, Sheree popped that buddy right back in her mouth and tried to suck it clean. Well I don’t have to tell you what happened next. The whole parish knows how we had to take Sheree to the emergency room at the Schumpert. At first, she started clutching her throat and Mr. Corbett, the DA, was fixing to administer the Heimlich, but Sheree put up a hand and said real loud, “No!” At that point, everyone was pretty certain she wasn’t choked. So Darlene asked, “Where’s the baby?” And you know what that Sheree said? She said, “I think I swallowed it.” Then she started crying for someone to take her to the ER. Me and Darlene and Cyntha told her to go to the ladies’ room and gag herself, but Sheree said that was gross and there wasn’t no way she was doing it. With all her carrying on, Mr. Corbett said it would be best if me and Darlene went on and drove Sheree to the ER and let them take a look at her. I could tell he was worried about Sheree filing a lawsuit so I said, “No problem!” And off we went in Darlene’s F-150 with Sheree crammed in between us. I’ll tell you one thing – that was the quietest ride to Shreveport I ever took. Darlene was fuming and Sheree was kind of whimpering like a little sick cat and I was staring out the window trying not to cuss Sheree out. When we got to the hospital, Sheree eased out of the truck. She was all hunched over clutching her stomach. Let me tell you, she was putting on a show. And when that handsome ER doctor showed up to check Sheree out, she really let loose. She was moaning and sobbing and taking on like you wouldn’t believe. “Oh doctor,” Sheree said, all pitiful, “I swallowed a baby.” “What?” That doctor looked like he was in the Twilight Zone. “Excuse me,” he said, trying to be professional, “did you say you swallowed a baby?” Me and Darlene was trying not to laugh. “Yes, doctor.” “Nurse, is that a local euphemism for pregnancy?” We could tell he wasn’t from around these parts. He was real dark and handsome and had one of those weird names on his name badge – Farhoud something or other. “I ain’t pregnant,” Sheree boomed out. Me and Darlene was about to hit the ceiling we were trying so hard not to laugh. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Dr. Farhoud said. At that point, I figured I better step in and defuse the situation, so I explained to Dr. Farhoud or whatever his name was that I am the head secretary in our office, Sheree being my subordinant, and that I had been instructed to bring her to the ER cause she had swallowed a little bitty plastic baby that was in a cake we were eating. Well, Farhoud still didn’t look like he quite got it, but he went on and ordered Sheree’s stomach pumped. When she heard that, Sheree let out a wail that they must have heard all over the Schumpert. It sounded like, “Awwwaaaah!!!” And that’s just when the Youth Minister from my church come walking in. “Lee,” he said and strode over beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. He is so creepy. “I called Cyntha a moment ago, and she told me you were rushing one of your employees over here. Something about a Mardi Gras king cake and a plastic baby.” “Yes, Gary,” I said. I wanted to roll my eyes at Darlene but Gary was all up in my face. “Well thanks be to the Lord, I happened to be here ministering in the children’s ward.” I wanted to say “Yeah right.” I happen to know he comes here every day for lunch at the hospital cafeteria. Wanda Wicker – she goes to First Baptist and works in Reception at the Schumpert – she says he’s been following around some nurse who works here. He waits for that poor girl every day in the cafeteria. Wanda said that little nurse is about to tell him where to go, and she is not the confrontational type at all. Anyway, Gary kind of slithered over to Sheree. “Well how are you feeling, young lady?” “Terrible,” Sheree said. She let a big fat tear run down her cheek for effect. “Would you let me pray over your wounded stomach?” “Uh-huh.” “Dear Lord, please forgive this young person for imbibing in a cake made to commemorate that sinful ritual known as Mardi Gras. Let this be a reminder to her that she must forever avoid contact with those things that are of Satan, even if a sweet and delicious cake be placed before her, lest she enter that slippery slope of sin and actually find herself in New Orleans lifting her blouse for anyone who asks. Amen.” “Thank you, pastor,” Sheree said. She was starting to perk up. “Now young lady, if you would like a ride home after you get your stomach pumped, I’ll be glad to stick around here and let your friends get back to work. You shouldn’t be at home all alone. I’ll stay with you until you’re feeling a hundred percent.” I was just about to say something when I realized someone else was in the room. It was Cyntha. She looked at Gary like he was a piece of road kill. “You disgust me!” she said, and she looked like she might cry right there in front of all of us. “But Cyntha,” Gary said. “I was just trying to minister to this young lady.” Darlene looked over at me and raised an eyebrow, but like I told her later, I don’t believe for one moment that Miss Cyntha Wannamaker would have anything to do with the likes of Gary. I figure she was just upset cause she knew she was going to have to report him to Brother Peevy and cause she was so disappointed with him losing his witness that way. Darlene says I’m wrong, but I think I know Cyntha pretty good. And then just as Cyntha was about to storm out of the room, Sheree piped up. “What’s my surprise, Cyntha? You said whoever got the baby would get a surprise.” Cyntha spun around and said, “Surprise?” And I have to say, I ain’t never seen that expression on Cyntha’s face before, not even when she was arguing the death penalty for that Randall Wayne Hooks. “Here’s your surprise,” Cyntha said all smart and crisp, “The person who gets the baby has to buy the next King Cake, so I’ll be looking for $20 from you, Sheree.” You would have thought the moon, the stars, and the planets fell out of the sky the way Sheree’s jaw dropped. |