O.P.C.

Dear Eric,

Here's the thing. Elaine left us a little gift in the freezer the day she left. You never knew, but she had gotten us something she knew we both would enjoy, and she even left a little note, folded in half and taped to the top, thanking us both for a wild ride on the Slow Roll and a journey through "Hollyweird." It was a gesture as well as a gift. You take one look at it, and you know girl had herself a great time.

Well, you know how I get. Did you know that I left my wallet at Dan's, and left my phone in Jessica's car when we picked up my wallet? Uh, because I didn't. The point is, I forget things. And now, I'm writing to apologize for forgetting some very important thing, and I don't think you could ever forgive me.

You see, Elaine left us this present in the freezer and I never remembered to see what it was. And it's unforgivable because it was a chocolate fucking cake addressed to both of us and I'm eating it right now.

I'm sorry that the whipped mousse is like sliding down David Beckham's snowy ass in a toboggan, except twice as divine. I'm sorry that when the chocolate icing melts so delicately in my mouth, the newborn child next door mewls and kicks and doesn't know why. I'm sorry that the flavor is as rich as Uncle Scrooge's money pool, and that the cake is as hearty as a lumberjack's har-dee-har. I'm sorry that I started in five minutes before it was completely thawed. I'm sorry that this means the chilly center is pleasantly offset by the warmth of the room.

I'm sorry because me and a chocolate cake are in a room together that you aren't in. I'm sorry that there's gonna be plenty left over, because there just won't be by the time you get back. I'm sorry because it was in the freezer for one whole week when we were both home. I'm sorry because I never remembered to check. I'm sorry that there's so much cake, that I really can eat it, and have it, too. I'm sorry that it is sooo good.

I'm sorry that I have to be sorry. It's so delicious. I hope you can forgive me.

Love,
David