The Eccles Cake Affair

by Bob Jacobs

This morning Pauline brought home two Eccles cakes from the bakery on the corner of St. Dunstan's Street. I'd just bitten into mine when she screamed and said hers resembled the face of Maureen, my ex. She sulked for a while then zoomed off in her Renault Clio, returning an hour later with half a dozen Tesco bags filled with chocolate eclairs. All afternoon she's been pulling them from the bags one after another, wrapping her hands around them, squeezing gently until the cream runs out between her fingers then licking her fingers clean and mouthing my brother's name over and over. Just now I found her lying knickerless on her back on the sofa, eyes closed, knees parted, blobs of cream splattered all over her face and hair. I go numb at the thought of all those carbohydrates.


Bob Jacobs, author of Testosterone, lives in the south-east of England with his wife and kids and Sony Vaio.


Robert Aquino Dollesin said...

Nice 6S. Highly visual piece of writing, every word counting. Strong narrative voice revealing a coherent story, sad and at the same time humerous. Punchline not needed, but as is the case with many short-shorts, brings it to an end nicely.


Madam Z said...

Not to worry, Bob. As long as she doesn't swallow the cream, those carbs will do no damage.

B said...

I could really "see" this...Great six. Thanks.

Rebekah Sue Harris said...


the waste of eclairs, i mean.