The Chocolate Cake Heist

My husband and I used to live in a 300 sq. ft. 2nd floor apartment.  Very close quarters, but I have a lot of fond memories of our old sardine can.  I actually liked the kitchen set-up, even though I could open the fridge while standing at the sink and touch the stove at the same time.  When baking in mass, I would have cooking racks everywhere I could.  On top of the fridge, microwave, cabinets, closed garbage can, open drawers....etc.  It all worked, so when my husband's step-mother, Mary, asked me to make Big Chris' 50th Birthday Cake, I said absolutely!  It had to be chocolate, so I made my ultimate favorite recipe.  The cake is so dark it is basically black, and the espresso in it adds an intense layer of flavor.  I got up early the day of the birthday party and went to it, carefully mixing, pouring, baking, waiting.  I flipped  the cakes from the pans and set them on cooling racks around the kitchen. I opened the tiny kitchen window a crack for a cool breeze.  My father-in-law was the ultimate jokester/prankster, so I wanted to do something funny/crazy for the top of his cake.  Chris and I went to Create-a-Cake and started searching.  Chris immediately picked up a plastic "Ken" doll looking toy.  However, this doll had only a speedo on, and when set atop a cake, it is in the lounge position.  Chris exclaimed "This is it!".  So you see, the apple does not fall far from the tree.  We bought Ken, and went happily on our way.  We pulled into the apartment parking lot and started up the steep back stairs to our apartment.  I looked up towards our place, and noticed a squirrel jumping from our window ledge onto the roof.  My heart sank.  I don't know how I knew, but I did.  The squirrel had been in our apartment.  I said over my shoulder to Chris, "I think that squirrel was in our apartment....I hope he didn't get the cakes."  Chris gave me a "psshh" and we continued up.  When I opened the door, my fear was confirmed.  There were chocolate cake remnants all over the kitchen.  The floor was littered with pieces and crumbs, and one 1/2 of a cake layer was in the sink.  I looked to the kitchen window and noticed the little bastards had ripped the screen to enter unlawfully.  Then, the worst was realized.  My darling little pie bird that adorned my window sill had been assaulted.  Her entire little ceramic body was covered with chocolaty paw prints.  She was never the same.  I then lost my mind, and began screaming out the kitchen window.  I called the squirrels names I will not repeat here, but needless to say, I couldn't look the neighbors in the eye afterwards.  Chris and I then began cleaning up the mess, and I then began baking all over again.  In the end, the cake was a hit, Ken was the talk of the town, and we all had a good laugh about the cake eating squirrels.  I still often wonder as I pass a squirrel in a tree or on a wire if he was the one.  And when they chirp at me as I walk, I can't help but want to give them the finger.
J~