eugene dobbs dreamed of power, but nobody took him seriously, not even his personal trainer, christopher columbus.
eugene ran for class president in his senior year of high school, but he did not receive a single vote, not even from his girl friend, because he did not have one.
his failure at the ballot did not unduly unnerve eugene, but a curious incident at mrs dalton’s bakery, where he worked after school, did.
a woman entered the bakery just as the sun was setting over the mountains.
eugene had never seen such a woman before, in humberville, where he had hitherto spent his entire uneventful existence.
eugene was an ungainly boy, with little interest in sports and games, and despite his overweening ambition, in any kind of competitive activity.
he would have been hard put to explain exactly why the woman who entered the bakery made such an expression on him.
her name was cassandra j rapunzel, and she was an attotrney with the fourth largest law form in the nearest nearby metropolis.
she looked at and through eugene, and in a husky voice - did she smoke? emile wondered amazedly - asked for a cup of black coffee and a birthday cake.
eugene recovered his wits sufficiently to ask - did madam want a name and/or number on the cake? and did she have any preferences as to the cake’s color and frosting?
as long as it says happy birthday on it, that is all that counts.
something about the way she intoned the words “that is all that counts” almost caused eugene to pass out.
but he managed to say, in that case we have a cake all ready for you, if you care to look at it.
i don’t have to look at it, just box it up.
yes, madam.
and stop calling me madam.
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