“I don’t know why. I just couldn’t help myself,”

David smiled smugly.

Chocolate-y crumbs and smears lined his entire mouth, “You know Andrea, you need to be more careful next time!” He licked his fingers then wiped his hands on his dinosaur boxers, “Anybody could just easily open your fridge and take something like that.”

My entire devil’s food cake disappeared into the void of a 6 year-old, never again to see the light of day.

My voice was dripping with rage, “That cake was for Michael! What is wrong with you?! I made that from scratch for his graduation tomorrow!”

“Who cares about your stupid boyfriend,” he moaned as he rinsed the dish off in the sink.

“That’s it. I’m calling your parents. Then I’m calling my parents because Mackenzie is in trouble too, she CLEARLY wasn’t watching you and doing her job AGAIN.”

He dramatically dropped the plate in the sink. “I don’t care!” He screeched as he stomped away.

David was a monster. This wasn’t the first time he had done something like this, but Mackenzie still babysits for him, and my parents still allow her to volunteer. “It’s good for her and teaches her to be more responsible,” My mother would foolishly always say. Mackenzie likes to believe I can just pick up her slack, and I did for awhile, but this is the last and final straw.

Nobody messes with my baked goods.

Suddenly he stops in his tracks.

A look of panic rose on his face as he lunged toward the sliding glass door, banging it loudly as it opened. He began to wail like a banshee as he hung over the wooden railing outside. Seconds later his cries turned into gurgles as the chocolate cake gained a grand victory and had it’s revenge.

And so did I.