Baking cupcakes.

Beep Beep Beep

Rolling over, I smack my hand randomly for the disruptive noisy alarm. I know it’s time to get up, doesn’t mean I want to. It’s the same routing everyday. Wake up at five in the morning to start a vary long day.

Sitting up in my small twin-size, ratty bed with cotton dark blue sheets and a heavy wool confronter, its cheep but warm. With my 5′2 and hundred pound frame, I get cold far to easy. As I walk across the hallway into the bathroom, I try not to flinch as the old hard wood floors creak and scream under my foot steps. My house maybe old and run down but its cozy and has a big wonderful kitchen. I run a small bakery from my kitchen that may or may not be legal. I don’t have many customers, Just mainly the local church and some old ladies in my neighborhood. May not be much but it does keep the few bills I have paid.

When I have finished in the restroom I head to the kitchen for a small breakfast and to plan out what to bake today. I want to do cakes but I did cupcakes two days ago, so I think I’ll do pound cakes today. With bread in the toaster I look for paper and a pen for ideas. After my bread is popped and buttered, I sit down at my two-chair small dining table with my plate of toast and a cup of water I start writing down ideas. I spend the majority of food for baking, plus I am use to eating little meals. With my list complete, from vanilla pound cake all the way to rum cake, I finish up my breakfast. After quickly washing my few dishes, I get started on my long day of baking all the different cakes.

After slipping three pans of amaretto pound cake when my tummy started to rumble. With a quick glace at the clock on the oven, I realize it’s 2:30 in the afternoon, no wonder I am hungry it’s lunch time. With a small giggle I set out on to making a BJ&J sandwich. I always found eating a PB&J sandwich very comforting, makes me feel like I am home back when my parents were still with me.

My parents died when I was 15, from a drunk driver. The were heading home from their monthly date night. The idea of date night was my mother’s, she said that it was to keep their relationship fresh. My family may not had been rich but we were happy. Dad was a vary mean looking and had muscles to spare for he worked as a mechanic in a small shop, but he loved me and mother with all his heart. My mom was a stay at home mother, when she wasn’t playing with me, we were baking in the kitchen for the local homeless shelter. I still have her old recipe book; it’s falling apart and some words are fading but I still use it from time to time. After their death I moved in with my mothers’ brother, for my father had no family. My uncle was not a bad man, he just didn’t have time for children. He was always away on some business trip and would send some money to me every week, so I took care of myself and I was home school so I didn’t have any friends. I didn’t mind being alone; it gave me the chance to perfect my baking skills. Things were well until I was 18. I was having a small bake sale outside my house for fun, when I met Jason, the day I would one day regret for the rest of my life. That is a story for another day, I don’t want to think about that when I am in a good mood.

When I finished my sandwich there was a soft knock on my front door. It must be Mrs. Softie, my 86-year-old next door neighbor here to buy cookies for her grandchildren that are visiting for Christmas Break. When I opened the door, I was not met with an 86-year-old woman, but a twenty something stripper. On my front porch stood a skinny, tall, blond hair, big boob, girl. She stood at lease 5′8, that included what look to be 5" black stripper heels, that paired with her mini leather skirt and what could only be described as a black, studded bra. The only thought going through my head is what in the world does this girl need from me?

"Hi. My name is candy, and well my aunt bough some cupcakes from you the other day and well... I was hoping I could buy some more for a pot luck I’m going to today?” she stuttered. ”Did you have a particular flavor in mind? I only have red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting left" I told her. ”That’s perfect! That’s what I wanted" she said as she started bouncing where she stood. No clue how she could do that in those fudgy heels.

Holding the door open I welcomed her in, always glad to have a new customer. As I lead her back into my kitchen, I started to tell her prices when she stops me half way and said, ”I’ll just take however many you have left. Wait! What is that wonderful smell?” she asked. Wow. I stopped at the opening between the living room and the kitchen, and spoke. ”Please wait here while I check and see how many cupcakes I have left.” Walking over to the walk-in cabinet next to the stainless-steel double door refrigerator. It is normally used as a storage closet but I use it to keep my baked goods in it. On the first shelf I count out three dozen cupcakes. Picking up the three boxes I come back to the kitchen and see her drooling over the chocolate chip pound cakes that are cooling on the table.

She looks to me and asks’ ”What are these wonderful smelling cakes?" ”Those are today’s goods. They are chocolate chip pound cake. The other flavors are in the cabinet and I have amaretto ones in the oven right now." ”How much do you sell these for? I would love to take some of these to the pot luck as well?” ”The cakes are Five each.” Great! I’ll take three.” I almost drooped to the ground. Never had someone buy so much from me. ”Well, with the cupcakes and three cakes the total come out to be, 50.50. I hope that’s ok.” ”That is perfectly ok, darling.” She said as she proceeded to pull a bunch of bills from her top. In stead of watching the odd money purse, I started to wrap three of the cakes up in foil rap. I should invest in more bakery boxes. After handing me three twenty’s and telling me to keep the change, the stripper girl grabbed her boxes and was out the door with a skip in her step. Still no clue how with the tall heels. With a shake of my head, I headed back into the kitchen and go back to work with 60 dollars in my pocket and a smile on my face.

After packing the last batch of cakes into the cabinet, I look to the clock to find it flashing 10:30 in its big red numbers. Bed time. With a glass of milk and a piece of bread, I head off to my room for a shower and a night full of sleep. Good night