Parable of the Cake
A middle-aged man walks down a busy market street. After passing several stalls selling various trinkets he comes across a bald and clean-shaven octogenarian drifter. This drifter holds up a sign that reads, ‘Beyond this door is a most delicious cake, upon eating, life eternal will one taste.’ Next, to the drifter, the middle-aged man did not see any door. He wonders why the drifter holds a sign for a non-existent door. After staring at the elderly man far too long, he finally gathers courage enough to ask, “Sir, where is the door?”
The drifter blinks several times, furrows his brow, looks behind him, and toward the questioner. Unexpectedly, the drifter points at something behind him. The middle-aged man takes off his glasses and wipes them off with his shirt.
He smirks, “Sir, show me evidence of a door.”
The drifter nods and again points behind him. The middle-aged man laughs and walks away.
Twenty-some years later, in another city, the now senior citizen comes across the same drifter walking down a crowded street in front of a skyscraper. The drifter looks the same, whilst he has aged. The drifter has the same sign. Once again, the man sees no evidence of a door. This time at a distance the senior citizen watches the drifter in curiosity if any others interact with him. Every now and then the drifter nods his head to no one. The middle-aged man laughs off the drifter as certifiably insane.
He walks over to the drifter in a tense mood. "Where is this door?"
The senior citizen is astonished that the drifter points behind him. With veins bursting from his forehead he yells, "Put down the sign."
The drifter aggressively points and maneuvers his right hand around the outside of the invisible door. The senior-citizen snatches the sign out of the drifter’s hand and smashes it on the ground and promptly stomps on it.
Whilst stomping on the sign an acute pain sears through his left arm, his fists clench, and lastly, he maneuvers his right hand over his heart and bends over. His body continues lowering to the ground. The drifter runs over to him. The senior citizen's lips fade to blue.
The drifter performs mouth to mouth resuscitation and pumps the unconscious senior citizen’s chest.
Another person comes across the drifter kneeling over the senior-citizen. He looks upon the stiff corpse and asks the drifter, “What is that on the man’s face?”
The drifter replies, “Cake--.”
The person affirms, “Oh!”. The person smiles and enters a vibrant royal blue-hued oaken door.
I hope this short tale brings a smile to your face. Please share your thoughts.