Christmas Cake Clash

The history of this season’s clash is rich with betrayal and bravery. The testimony of history states the tale of the cake, over the years, is littered with deceit, greed, gluttony and blazing glory.

The conflicts centre around Susan’s delicious whipped cream log cake and the brazen attempts of tyrants to secure larger-than-fair portions.

The log cake in question served as the splendid backdrop to a sumptuous turkey dinner Susan had prepared this Christmas. By the time the meal ended, only a single, precious chunk of log cake remained in the fridge, tucked safely under foil.

Tristan and I had sworn to defend our remaining chunk of Susan’s log cake. Our vow included resisting requests, polite, implied or crude, from friends and all relatives, immediate or extended. The remaining chunk of Susan's log cake would be protected and kept for our palates alone.

Unfortunately, nephew Tyler arrived at our home determined to indulge in the same remaining chunk of Susan's log cake. Though none of the world’s great historians could have predicted its intensity, the clash was inevitable. As reasonable readers, you are sure to derive from this photograph, taken mere moments after his arrival at our home this week, that Tyler’s demeanor typically bears more resemblance to a clown than a warrior. Do not be fooled.

We, sensing threat - and he, sensing cake - grimly assumed our stations. Quickly, with the smell of whipped cream lingering in the air, the line had been drawn.

The battle began in the kitchen as Tyler, fork in hand, charged. For several minutes, the scuffle was punctuated by grunts, groans, giggles and sweat. Tristan and I solidly, almost easily, stood our ground, but in the midst of the battle, Susan, who had inexplicably sworn allegiance to extended kin over we greed-laden members of her nuclear family, escaped with the remaining chunk of log cake. As Tyler’s unsuspecting girlfriend stood in awe, it seems Susan, the lovely but flighty turncoat, had decided nephew Tyler was somehow entitled to the remaining chunk of log cake. Though he hails from her side of the family, Susan's unexpected actions have left me aghast.

Let there be no doubt, Tristan and I fought fiercely, restraining the attacker’s fork hand and grinding our knuckles into his unprotected sternum; still, we are prepared to admit our efforts only caused Tyler to battle more valiantly.

Finally, hunched desperately over the bathroom sink, swarmed and enduring considerable discomfort, he managed, between girly giggles, to stuff forkfuls of the remaining log cake into his mouth.

Though history will report he emerged victorious this round, he knows as well as we, victory will be short-lived and, just as surely as the power of the mighty inspires the admiration of the proletariats, there will be another log cake.

Once again, we stand ready.