A Piece of Cake

The partygoers have just finished a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday” and the cake is being cut. It’s a decadent little thing: Chocolate cake with a rich buttercream chocolate frosting. Carol, the hostess, passes out pieces of cake to guests, who happily begin to eat.

 

“Trish, can I get you a piece?” Carol asks.

 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly! I’m watching my weight,” Trish squeals. “I already filled up on all that watercress and cauliflower. If I eat any more, you’d have to wheel me out of here on a forklift!”

 

Trish looks around the room, watching to see who is listening to her. Her eyes linger, just for a second, on a slightly overweight couple chatting as they eat their slices of cake.

 

“Oh, are you sure? I’d hate for you to miss out,” Carol says.

 

“It looks so rich,” Trish says. “All that icing! Goodness! I’m going to burst just looking at it!”

 

Carol cuts pieces of cake for two or three more guests. “OK, it’s up to you.”

 

“Well, maybe just a small piece. Very small! Just a sliver! Ohh! I’m watching my weight!”

 

“One small piece, coming up.” Carol makes a cut—nearly perfectly vertical—on the bottom of the Bundt cake. She lets the knife hover over 6:28 on the clock, demonstrating her second cut. It’s half of what she gave the other guests. “Is that OK?”

 

“Oh, no,” says a loudly flustered Trish. Heads turn. “That’s much, much too biiiiig! Oh, I could never even think about trying to finish that! Goodness!”

 

Carol moves the knife over 6:29 on the cake. “How about that?”

 

“Still too big! I don’t know if I could manage that! I just need a tiny sliver! Oh, I’m watching my weight!” Conversations have stopped at the party as people listen to Trish.

 

Carol moves the knife over 6:30 on the cake. It’s the smallest the piece of cake could be and still maintain its structural integrity. “I can’t cut it any smaller, Trish.”

 

“Well,” Trish sighs, “I can give it a shot. Although I may end up with a stomachache!”

 

Surgically, Carol transfers the flimsy piece of chocolate cake onto a plate. It will not stand up on its own.

 

“Thank you,” says Trish. “Would anyone want to split this piece with me? You see, I’m watch—”

 

“We know,” the guests cut her off. “You’re watching your weight.”