I hang out at a community centre in my neighbourhood, and do a bit of volunteering there when they have events or fundraising activities. Last month, the centre decided to hold a bake sale, as many of the members are seniors, and I guess seniors--at least these ones--do a lot of baking. The staff sent out a request for contributions, and the response was very high. They were baking anyway, so they figured they might as well bake in a way that benefits the community.

On the day of the event, which took place last week, at the beginning of February, there was a forecast for a heavy snowfall beginning in the early to late afternoon. So the attendance to the event was very low, probably because it's difficult for seniors to move about when the ground is slippery. Those of us volunteering for the event, and a handful of seniors, showed up, and by about three o'clock it was pretty clear we weren't going to sell the vast majority of the baked goods. So I had an idea....

I started a rumour among the small group of volunteers, and told each of them, secretly, that someone had dared someone else to hit them with a pie. My hope was that it would start a chain reaction that would lead to an all-out pie fight. And it worked! When the first pie flew, the victim hit someone other than the person who threw it, and this continued until everyone--except me--had been pied (or caked or puddinged).

I told a friend of mine, one of the really 'cool' seniors, what I had done, and the two of us stood back and laughed at everyone getting covered with treats. When they had each pied each other a couple of times, they stopped and noticed the two of us laughing at them. Then my friend--or should I say 'friend'--yelled out, pointing to me: he set you guys up!

They all looked at me, with my innocent smile, and knew it was true since they all heard the same rumour from me. One of the volunteers said softly, pulling out a chair into the middle of the group, "come over here and have a seat for a sec, we want to talk to you." I went over and sat down, sensing what was about to come. Each of them had picked up a couple of pies or pieces of cake, and waited patiently for me to have a seat.

I went over, gave one of them my glasses, took off my boots and set them aside, and sat down. The floor was slippery with pie filling and frosting, and my wool socks allowed me to virtually skate back to the chair.

The first pie came down upon the top of my head. The whipped cream topping and chocolate filling slid down all sides of my head, covering my face with streams of white and brown slime. The group watched and laughed as it descended down my head and landed on my shoulders and chest. It felt so amazing, heavy, cool, wet, and thick. I couldn't help but smear the glops across my chest, feeling the slime slide between my fingers.

Before the next person approached, I put up my hand and said "wait, whose going to pay for all these pies and cakes, this is a fundraiser, remember?!" My friend ('friend'), the cool senior then yelled out, "don't worry about it, I'll pay for the pies, this is worth it!"

Needless to say, the snowstorm outside wasn't the only thing flinging white stuff around furiously.

The next person sandwiched my head with two pies at once, and I could barely hear a thing from that point on. The crusts remained in place for a little while, and (keeping with the snow them) acted as a pair of ear muffs to protect me from the rest of the storm.

The next person had a couple of pieces of some kind of chocolate cake with creamy layers and cherries. These went slowly, carefully, gently, onto my face, as if they had to be put in place with perfect alignment. Being cake with thick cream, the bulk of it stayed in place, like a layer of thick insulation to keep my face nice and warm (keeping with the snow theme, once again). I didn't touch it, or any of it, except to wipe my eyes so I could enjoy the anticipation of what was coming next.

Having received pies and cakes, the logical next step was trifle: a large bowl filled with custard, small fruity bits, and topped with whipped cream. Because it was in a bowl, it had to be poured, not splatted, and the person pondered about where to place it since my head, shoulders, and chest were already totally invisible. Another person came forward with "I have an idea" and grabbed my feet and lifted my legs so they were both horizontal. The other person then poured the thick trifle all over my legs in a zig-zag pattern, slowly, and when done, scooped the remainder out with her hand and flung it at me. She then proceeded to disperse the serpentined trifle evenly over my legs as if it was some kind of installation art piece.

The vengeance ended with everyone who still had something to 'share' with me, giving me all their love at once. There wasn't a lot left, but it was enough to make sure that virtually every surface inch of me was sweetened with revenge.

Getting up from the chair was difficult because I kept sliding on the floor with my wool socks, which were white a few minutes ago. A few other people fell on the floor also, and it turned into an excuse to hurl more cream and filling at people standing around. The volunteers agreed to cover the costs of deserts to help out my senior friend who originally agreed to pay for all of it. Clearly, a form of 'Just Deserts.'

A friend called my partner and asked, on my behalf, if she would bring a complete change of clothes for me, explaining that I got a little pie on me. When she arrived, she shrieked "what the h*ll happened to you?" so I hugged her, you know, to share the wealth.

Some people had taken pictures of me, looking like I had tried to find my way through a bake shop with a blindfold on, and the pictures were emailed to all members in the next newsletter. There was a brief explanation of the cause of my (mis)fortune, with the heading "The Three Million Calorie Revenge". Apparently, many people emailed in and said they would be sure not to miss the next bake sale, no matter how bad the weather was. And instead of selling the baked goods, they would auction pies for throwing at volunteers. From what I've heard so far, there will be no shortage of volunteers: many of the seniors have already put their names forward. Who would have thought!?