Eat the cake

You rend the foil from the confection and scarf it down in three bites. The onslaught of sweet flavor is so intense that you nearly pass out. The tongue is truly an artist. In the face of such excellence, how can humans kill one another? You doze for a time as you consider the possibility of a culinary utopia where merit is won by the ardor of one’s garden and the dexterity of one’s spatula. A world arises in your mind of where the forge is put to rest and the smoking kilns transformed into rows of bread ovens. The hooks in the armories hold blades no longer, but cutlery and links of pork and beef. Hens peck seed from the courtyards where archers once perfected their marksmanship. You awaken with a start.

You meant to savor this thing, but perpetual hunger is a force to be reckoned with. You can feel the half-chewed cake sitting in your stomach like a log. You hope it doesn’t stick there forever.