Distasteful dessert disaster

By Daeja lee Conner

Staff Writer

  Mouthwatering aromas fill the air as my family and I feasted on the classic Thanksgiving foods. Though my stomach was satisfied and could not accept another minuscule bite of yams, my brain could not help but wonder what was to come. Only one thing remained on my mind as I sat silently on the couch: dessert.

  As I sulked in my fullness, my nostrils recognized a more delightful scent. I sprinted into the kitchen to spot my mother with her hands enclosed in pot holders, pulling a large pan out of the oven. As I peeked over her shoulders, my eyes recognized a golden sheet cake, golden brown over the top, waiting to be consumed. My mother irritatedly walked me to the living room and demanded that I must wait until it has cooled.

  After a long time, my mother descended from the living room into the kitchen. While patiently waiting for my mother’s return, I spot her cutting squares into the cake. I walked into the kitchen just in time to see my mom raise a slice onto a purple polka dot plate. As she slid the plate in my direction, my mind began to race, my mouth craving for the luscious golden fluffy goodness.

  I tilted my fork to the side to break off an immense piece of the cake. As I lift it upwards towards my mouth, I closed my lips around the fork to allow my taste buds to indulge in the numerous flavors. Taking a bite, I felt a repulsive shock of saline and ocean water flood my mouth. Instantly, my body rejects the cake as I spit it back onto the plate.

  “Mom! What did you put into the cake?!” I yelled across the kitchen.

  “What do you mean? What I always put. I put two extra scoops of sugar in it this time. Why? Is it too sweet?” she belched at me.

  “What sugar did you use? This is disgusting,” I snapped back at her.

  “The one in the blue container on the top shelf, ” she declared at me.

  I directed myself to the left cabinet and reached onto the top shelf to pull down the container. I dipped my pinkie finger into the bucket and transported the white powder to my tongue. To my disenchantment, my mouth was shocked by the pungent taste once again as I screamed into the other room.

  “Mom, this is salt!”


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