Yvonne smashed the meat cleaver over and over into the cake. The banging merged with her screams and reverberated throughout the kitchen.
She couldn’t believe her husband had missed his own birthday party. A party they had been planning for two months. A party he was fully aware of, not one that was a surprise, which might have made the whole situation more understandable.
And what caused him to miss the party? Not work or a medical emergency. No, he missed the party she had slaved over for a damn golf game.
“What the hell are you doing?” her husband asked from the doorway.
“It’s either the cake or your head, Clarence,” Yvonne answered. She turned toward him, cleaver raised and dripping icing, and asked, “Which will it be?”