“Can I throw away this frozen cheesecake?”
This was the third time he’s inquired about the health of my frozen cheesecake left-over from thanksgiving. It was the first time I’ve ever made cheesecake, no one ate it. I have no real intention of eating it. But, I made it. My first cheesecake. It’s like a frostbitten and shunned token of my victory over the stove.
“Nope. Just like last time, no. I’m sorry it’s taking up room in your Frigidaire. I’m sorry but that over-grown frozen hockey puck will be there until the end of all time. When the world ends, the only things left will be….Cher, cockroaches, and this fridge with my cheesecake still left inside. When Cher staggers out from the rubble of her Malibu home completely unharmed due to all of her plastic parts, she will wander into an earth scorched by flame. She maybe the last, well maybe the only somewhat human left to start over.
She’ll start her journey to Boulder, Co. since she saw The Stand and thinks she must come to Boulder to plant humanities new seed. Upon the last hill she’ll collapse to the ground with hunger. Still needing to nourish her un-plastic, still human parts. This is when she’ll catch a glimmer of our burnt out well appointed home with this fridge still in its place. As she cracks it open she’ll find this very cheesecake. Dropped to her knees, she’ll scream to the heavens:
“Thank you! Thank you to the obvious Homosexuals that left this manna, this food of the gods to save the human race!”
“Uh, you probably think too much about Cher.” Fuzz said pulling out steaks.