Alice's Restaurant Rock Radio

[7]

In Which Marley Eels and Eden Roy Make a Cake for Ingrid Fitzgerald

8) Have a character (any character) say, "Do. Or do not. There is no try."

"So," Eden breathes, resting her chin on a box of store-brand cake mix. She taps her fingernails against the Eels' linoleum countertop and says, "We're gonna build a cake."

"Bake a cake," Marley corrects from the living room, leaning back into the worn-out and dehydrated-piss-colored sofa cushions as she continues to channel surf, oblivious to the plan that is currently underway in the room adjacent to her.

Eden blinks and tilts her head so she can see Marley. "What?"

"Bake a cake. Not build one. We're asking Ingrid to the dance, not making a house." Marley thinks for a minute and adds, "Or, you are."

Eden nods and breathes heavily out of her nose, continuing to drum against the table. "Yes, yes, make a cake."

She continues to occupy time by having an improv drum session for a few minutes before she finally quips, "Marley?"

Marley rubs her eyes. "Yeah?"

"What if Ingrid doesn't like cake? Or what if she's allergic? And she dies?" Her eyes widen until they're big as dinner plates. "I can't kill her! I'm not even a citizen of this country yet! They'll have to. . . have to. . . kick me out!" Eden trots into the living room and tugs at her scarf, sitting at Marley's feet and muttering, "What if we just buy a cake from the store or something? And then possibly just eat it by ourselves?"

Marley sits up and scratches the nape of her neck. "Look, are you gonna ask Ingrid out or not? Because all that frosting and crap was like, two week's allowance, so if we're not gonna use it I need to know so I can return it."

"No, no, no," Eden says. "It's just. . . I dunno. I'm nervous, you know? What if she says no? Because I spelled her name wrong or something? Or what if she doesn't like vanilla? Should we have gotten chocolate?"

Marley leans back onto the arm of the couch, not in the mood for a sappy romance story but still trying to at least look supportive. Mustering up the best relationship advice TV has given her, Marley twirls a strand of her hair between her fingers and says, "Yeah, but what's the worst that can happen? She says no? I mean, if someone made me a giant cake and then asked me out, I'd probably be like, 'Hey, you can bake. Sure, I'll go out with you.'" She shrugs and takes a long sip of her root beer before adding, "So, yeah. Am I returning the cake mix, or. . . ?"

Eden shakes her head and gets up. "No, no, I'll give it a try."

Marley tightens the drawstrings of her hoodie and follows Eden into the kitchen, opening the cabinet next to the refrigerator and producing a light saber. She turns it on and whips it around as it pulsates with a blue light, much to the surprise of Eden, who puts a hand over her heart.

Marley forces her voice to go an octave deeper than it usually is and mutters in her best Yoda impression (and given that she's never seen Star Wars due to her breaking the VCR last winter and Harrison to being cheap to buy a new one, it's sub-par at best), "Do, or do not. There is no try."

Eden blinks and grabs onto the countertop with her free hand, finally squeaking after Marley stops waving her lightsaber around while imitating the sounds, "But. . . why do you have that in the kitchen?"

Marley turns the lightsaber off and twirls it around a little. "In case of intruders, Harrison told me to use this."

"No, no, but why do you have that?"

Marley shrugs and gives Eden another explanation. "Harrison likes Star Wars. Like, a lot. I think that's how he met Annushka, actually. They were both at a convention in Minneapolis, he was Hans Solo, she was Princess Leia. . ." her voice trails off for a minute as she frowns and thinks, furrowing her bushy eyebrows together before asking, "But wait, weren't they related? They were brother and sister, yeah?" She shivers. "That's so weird."

Eden doesn't reply but loosens her iron grip on the countertop, prompting Marley to put the lightsaber back in its original hiding place for possible later use against a burglar. "Ah, well. So, did we decide what we're writing on the cake?"