Hot Lava

Almost every child at some point has played a game with many names, interchangeable even within the same household, in which they pretend the floor is made of lava and they must therefore avoid stepping on it at all costs. Cats play this game, too, but take it much more seriously, for cats not only have nine lives and an unquenchable curiosity, but they also have imaginations so potent that while wrapped in the throws of a fancy, their thoughts may as well be real for them. Hot lava, whether made of molten rock or a thick shag carpet, burns. This is why your cat prefers to sit on chairs or the keyboard of your computer, why he leaps to the top shelf, climbs your curtains, or sinks his claws into the couch when you try to move him. The floor burns, and he wants nothing to do with it.

Of course, the burn is entirely imaginary, and thus can be dispelled with the greatest of ease. Cats are curious creatures, so one need simply change their minds about what the world is. A laser pointer will make him forget about the wood tiled lava and become instead, the brave cat scientist out to save the world from tiny red devils, and a spray of water will make him imagine a hurricane and he will seek shelter in the caves under the table or behind the entertainment center.

- Originally mailed to L. Bourlet from Biloxi, Mississippi

Cake Die

Sonya Novaski was a devout gamer, so naturally when it came time for her birthday, she requested her cake be in the shape of a die, a six-sider out of consideration for the baker. This consideration did nothing to save the poor baker, however, for as serious as she was about her hobby, she insisted the die had to be fair and true.

“What?” asked the baker. “You intend to roll the cake?”

“Of course,” said Sonya. “It is a die, isn't it? And I expect a random result.”

The baker slaved for days, weeks, trying to find a cake that would be sturdy enough to be rolled hundreds of times but still soft enough to eat. He fretted over the icing and how to keep it from smudging and smearing. Finally after more hard labor than he was being paid for, he created the perfect cake. Six sides that, while uneven, produced a statistically perfect spread of numbers over one thousand rolls. It was a masterpiece of baking, a work of culinary and engineering perfection.

Sonya loved it, rolled it several times, and gave the baker a nod of approval. After playing a game of Settlers of Catan with the cake and another die (“Why didn't I order two?” she thought), she and her guests cut in to enjoy their delicious randomizer. It was chocolate, which Sonya hated. She couldn't complain, though. She had never specified the flavor, she realized. Besides, it was never really about eating the cake.

- Originally mailed to S. Donohue from Allen Park, Michigan

Corona Piñatas

“Every adult deep down wants to be a kid again,” Marilyn Stephens would always say. This philosophy ultimately led her to open her own party planners, Inner Child Party Services. They had many of the usual children's affairs, bouncy houses, slip-n-slides, and the like, but with more alcohol. The ice cream was Bailey's and Kahlua flavored, and the cake was Guinness chocolate. That which didn't translate directly, she would often retheme. Instead of clowns and Spider-Man, entertainers would show up dressed as Donald Draper or Leelo Dallas. Pin the Tail on the Donkey, for the sake of decency, involved sticking other body parts on other things. Musical chairs was likewise made more interesting and adult themed. For the most part, her party planning business was a huge success, though she almost lost it all when she first introduced piñatas. For the longest time, she puzzled over what to stuff them with, before settling on an amusing recursion. What better thing to stuff a Corona piñata with than bottles of Corona? Fortunately, the alcohol instantly disinfected the many wounds from all the broken glass.

- Originally mailed to C. Nowell in Newport News, Virginia