prompt: proof, title: when words fail in misc. flash fiction

Sarah and Rachel studied the rum cake together, fresh off its third overnight soak in a bath of boozed-up sauce. “Well,” Sarah asked, “do you think we did it right?” “We’ve baked a lot of cakes together,” Rachel replied just a little sleepily, “haven’t messed one up in a while, I think we’ve gotten pretty good.” “We never made a rum cake ever quite this… strong, though.” She glanced back at the recipe on the tablet atop the breakfast bar behind them. “DEVIL’S CAKE.” This wasn’t a typo for “Devil’s Food Cake”, it was the recipe’s full title: DEVIL’S CAKE.

“I mean, all we can do is try it and find out. Proof is in the pudding, right?” “Literally,” Rachel laughed perhaps a touch too loud, “damn thing’s gotta be fifty or sixty proof, even factoring for the stuff that cooked off.” This particular cake hadn’t been Sarah’s choice, she’d lost a bet with Rachel on how long their oldest sister Megynn’s second marriage was going to last, with recipe choice in their baking experiments for three straight months on the line. Sarah gave them three years, Rachel six months at most. They didn’t last four but Rach was closer by the holy rules of Showcase Showdowns and Rachel’s very first pick was DEVIL’S CAKE, which she found just hilarious. “Hell,” Rachel continued, “it isn’t even a pudding, it’s a cake.”

“I mean, by the British definition, it is,” Sarah retorted, “any dessert can be called a pudding over there.” “Lookee you,” her sister snorted, “Little Miss Entymolgist.” “That’s the study of insects, Rach.” Rachel giggled a bit. “No, that’s antmanology,” “Antmanology is the study of why Paul Rudd doesn’t age naturally.” “Okay,” Rachel laughed even louder, now just playing along with the riff, “entenmannology!” “That’s the academic study of delicious but terrible for you cakes.” “Clearly, we’re both good with entenmannology!” The two broke down laughing for a good half minute together, although Sarah pulled herself together quite a bit faster than Rachel.

“You’re already drunk, aren’t you?” Sarah finally shot the elephant in the room with her elephant in the room gun. “Every drop that didn’t go into the pudding,” Rachel tapped her stomach, “went into my belly, yes.” They pulled out a serving knife and two forks, Sarah insisted she be the one to handle the sharp object, what with how she was not yet drunk herself. “Yow!” Sarah coughed upon tasting, “That’s good, but I don’t know how much I can take, there really is a lot of proof in that pudding.” Rachel just smiled and took another bite.

The phone rang. “Uh-huh” Sarah said “Uh-huh… uh-huh… uh, that’s great for you, Meg, that’s really great!” It went on like that for a while until it ended and Rachel looked for her. “Meg’s in Cancun. She just eloped with Husbo Three.” There was a lingering silence between them, finally broken by Sarah shoving a huge piece of Devil’s Cake straight into her mouth. She’d need it.