little cake-y goodness.

i was on my way to the office this morning, driving down interstate 65 in nashville, when i saw it. HOSTESS. it was plastered on the back of that delivery truck, and in an instant my body reacted and it was my mecca.

i imagined all the little hostess cakes inside, in all their cake-y goodness with creme fillings to tantalize my senses. all their little plastic wrappings that make my tastebuds tingle when i hear the sound. unwrapping that little cake and taking that first bite and not quite reaching the center creme. then taking another and being rewarded for my efforts.

i longed for the spongey artificial texture of a twinkie on my tongue.

then an idea flashed through my mind. i could hold up that truck. i could do it like jesse james, pull a bandana over my face, get up beside him and force him over with pure intimidation. or i could sword fight on top of my car while steering with my foot. i imagined myself straddling the road, one foot on my car and one foot on his truck, like in indiana jones. in the middle of the fight i'd stab my sword into a cake in the back and savor my forthcoming bounty of goodness.

once i was crowned victor, i would launch myself into that soft mountain of cakes i imagined were piled in the back of that truck. it would feel like falling into a soft mound of leaves on a breezy fall day. a reward to jump into them after toiling to rake them up in that cumbersome yard. i'd lay back and bask in the enjoyment of those wrappers crinkling all around me.

but then it hit me. why in the world would i go to all that effort for a bounty of twinkies? if i'm going to go to the trouble of holding up a truck, it should at least be for something more long-lasting, more worth the exhausting effort.

like an ikea truck.

now, if you'll excuse me, i'm pretty sure there's a cupcake around here somewhere with my name on it.