Operation: Cake Heist

“There she is boys.” Cornelius dragged his words out slow with awe, puffing out his chest with pride.

“Oh my whiskers, you don’t see that every day,” Wilhelm responded in surprise.

“Just look at it!” Marshall squealed in delight, his giant eyes glistening with greed.

“Tell me that isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.”

“You’ve done us proud Cornelius,” Wilhelm agreed.

It had been a long time since Cornelius and the boys had seen one of such size, such richness, such decadence. Its body was as round as a dinner plate, the icing smooth as a table surface. Patrick the baker was characteristically known to be fond of the more elaborate cakes and smaller desserts he displayed daily in his bakery cabinet and shop window, so the occurrence of a genuine, classic chocolate mud cake was a rare thing for the mice to behold indeed. It was the holy grail of all desserts in Cornelius’ opinion, and an opportunity not to be missed.

He and his two companions lived underneath the floorboards of Pat’s Patisserie, a quaint cottage-style bakery right on the corner of Poppy and Almond Street in a cheerful neighborhood in Surrey. The mice loved there home, and would gorge themselves as they saw fit on the rubbish bin remnants and leftovers of every dessert imaginable each day. Lamington, Pound Cake, Black Forest, Caramel Tart, Cheesecake, Pavlova, Gateau- you name it, they had tried it. But lately it seemed, their favourite flavour had become less abundant, and Cornelius’ taste buds had been yearning for a change. He’d smelt the chocolate cooking on the stove the night before but knew that the final product of whatever Patrick had been baking would be hiding in the kitchen fridge, a magical wintry steel fortress of which the three of them could not penetrate unless opened by one of the humans. Even then, it was risky business. One could slip right on in there through the bottom easy enough but could never know when one would be getting out, and none of them wanted to freeze to death. As a rule, it was always safest to wait until the cakes were on display out the front.

The three mice were watching from a hole in the wall, a high vantage point close to the ceiling.

“Come on! What are we waiting for?” Marshall practically jumped out.

“Patience,” Cornelius used his front claws to pull him back into place.

Patrick he baker was ambling around below them in his routine fashion, taking the chairs down from the tables with practised ease, and straightening the tablecloths out. He also liked to place a small vase of flowers on each table too, which Cornelius always thought was a nice touch- often eating the petals of dandelions when they were in season. He looked at the clock on the left wall. Six-thirty. The bakery opened to customers at seven.

“What do we do now?” Marshall complained, fidgeting.

“We wait.”

“For what?”

“An order.”

*

'Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle', the shop bell signalled the first customer of the day. It was Mrs Morley who came in every single morning for a piece of shortbread, and a cup of English Breakfast tea. She always sat in the window and stayed a very long time.

Next was the usual hustle and bustle of morning commuters, ordering a swath of hot beverages from Rebecca, who served behind the counter. They'd say things like "A flat white and a muffin to go please." Rebecca then would operate a giant, noisy machine that clattered and hissed and wheezed but made sensational smelling drinks. The customers that ordered them would also take away little, brown paper bags filled with Chelsea Buns, Cornish Pasties, Croissants, Cinnamon Rolls and every flavor of muffin you could dream of.

Cornelius watched as an impeccably dressed gentlemen bent down to observe the counter cakes.

“I’ll grab a slice of that chocolate cake to go too if you don’t mind,” he said to Rebecca, who nodded and pressed buttons on the machine that took money. Marshall began to panic as she took the chocolate cake out and began to cut into it with a huge knife.

“He’s taking our cake! That man is taking our cake!” he gasped.

“Don’t get your tail in a twist!” Wilhelm clapped young Marshall behind his little ears. “We don’t need the entire thing. We’d never be able to move it, let alone eat it.”

“That’s right. We only need one slice.” Cornelius concurred, eyeing off the line of customers.

But as the morning slipped away, so too did the chocolate cake. Marshall was practically tearing his fur out at this point, and even wise Wilhelm was nibbling his claws nervously. Morning became afternoon, and by then there was only enough of the chocolate cake left for four slices; to Cornelius’ estimate. He had contemplated during the quiet period after noon of slipping down to the cabinet with the boys to try their luck, but they would never get that heavy sliding glass across. Rebecca always made sure to shut it whenever she took something out or put something in.

'Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,' The shop bell chimed again softly, and a smiley woman walked in with two loud children. They ran to the cake cabinet immediately and began pointing and making demands.

"Rainbow cookies! -No wait, I want an Angelcake! No- An iced bun!" They were so loud the mice covered their ears.

Beside Cornelius, Marshall’s stomach rumbled.

“You can only have one each.” the woman said to the children. Cornelius' heart sank as the children pointed at the chocolate cake.

“That one!” they screamed in unison.

“Those brats!” Wilhelm cursed.

But it wasn’t over yet. The woman with them had decided that she too, would like to order a slice of the same cake. All three to go. Marshall and Wilhelm both looked at Cornelius, who said nothing. One slice. One single slice of delectable, scrumptious chocolate mud cake left. Who knew if or when Patrick would decide to bake such a miracle again?

“What do we do now?” Marshall worried.

“Just let me think, let me think.”

As Cornelius thought hard on how to get to the last slice, the bakery was clear of customers. Rebecca relaxed against the counter and took a sip of a hot chocolate she had prepared earlier. She always put in pink marshmallows; never white Cornelius noticed. As if his wish had been granted, Rebecca opened the glass cabinet up and took the near empty plate with the mud cake out. The three mice exchanged weary but excited looks. She transferred the final piece onto a smaller plate and placed plastic film over the top.

'Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,' Two new customers walked in and began to browse the bread section on the opposite side to the cake cabinet. Rebecca left the cabinet open and greeted them. It was now or never. Cornelius gave a mischievous smile.

“Ok boys, now’s our chance,” he had their immediate attention. “We climb down, chew that plastic film off and move that slice of cake onto the floor. From there, we run it into our main floor hole as fast as we can.”

“But wait…won’t we ruin the cake if we push it onto the floor?” Marshall asked, his face full of concern.

“It’s a chocolate mud cake you fool, not a sponge cake. It’s got moisture in it,” Wilhelm answered.

“What does that mean?”

“Means it don’t break like the others,” Wilhelm rolled his eyes.

“Oh!” Marshall instantly brightened.

“Ok, on my count boys,” Cornelius began, his eyes on Rebecca as she detailed the comparison of seeded bread loaves to the couple.

“One…. Two…Three, GO!”

The mice descended with unrivalled swiftness. Out of the hole, they practically swam down the wall and onto a shelf filled with knick-knacks. From this shelf, they hopped across to a lower one that held white ceramic pots of sugar, sweet spices, and tea leaves before descending yet again one by one onto a tea towel hanging above the counter on a hook. Silent and unseen, they reached the cake cabinet, slipping passed the glass single file. The mice immediately began nibbling through the plastic film, making fast work.

“We’ll take two of your pumpkin seed please,” Cornelius heard the customer say to Rebecca and started to tear with his claws what he hadn’t already chewed with his teeth.

The three of them had managed to open the film up and the slice of chocolate cake had finally been exposed. It smelled as delicious as it had been when it had been baking.

“Quick boys!” Cornelius urged them to push the cake slice, shaped like a wedge on its side first, before they wiggled their heads underneath; Wilhelm and Marshall under the two heaviest corners, and he at the centre of the thinner end. Suddenly, there came a high-pitched shriek and a pair of bread tongs dropped onto the floor.

“PUSH!” Cornelius cried, without looking in Rebecca's direction, knowing they had been spotted.

The cake tumbled over the edge of the counter and smacked the floor with a satisfyingly slick noise, the frosting thankfully still in tact. The mice shot down onto the wooden floorboards quick as lightening, and repeated their cake-lift, making a break for their hole across the room.

“RATS!” screamed the female customer.

Cornelius chuckled underneath the cake as they ran- the humans were always panicking whenever they saw has kind. The mice ran as fast as they could with their prize but Rebecca was unexpectedly faster. Cornelius stopped chuckling as he sensed a large shadow looming over them. He dropped the cake just before his entire world went dark. He squeaked. There was something soft above him, and a crack of light he could see near his feet. He ducked underneath and found himself still on the bakery floor. Rebecca had thrown a tea-towel on top of them! He glanced around; Wilhelm had made it out but where on earth was Marshall? He called out for him, and in answer a lump under the tea towel began to move as Rebecca stomped towards them, a spatula in her hands. Cornelius gulped.

“Quick! Get him out!” Wilhelm cried, the pair of them lifting the edge of the towel up for Marshall to see his way out of.

The young mouse looked dazed as he breached the light, the other two snatching him up and forcing him to escape with them down into their hole just in time before Rebecca's spatula smacked down against the wood above their heads. They slumped in the darkness under the floorboards, catching their breath and listening intently. After a little while, things quietened.

"She called us rats..." Wilhelm protested.

Soon the staff had left and the bakery closed before night fell, the mice going to bed hungry. At first light, Cornelius left to scout again. He returned as Patrick had began cooking bread ready for the early risers.

“Guys, you’ll never believe what’s in the cabinet this morning!” Cornelius said with a stroke of his whiskers. The boys exchanged questioning looks.

“Another chocolate cake.”