Jane and I walked along the downtown sidewalk, window shopping and talking. Jane was one of our newest S.C.R.A.P.Y. members. As President of S.C.R.A.P.Y., I like to get to know everyone. She talked about her struggles with sugar and carbs. The binging and guilt had led her to us. I felt her frustration. I commended her for what she was doing right and we discussed what wasn’t working.
As we strolled along, we came across the downtown bakery. She stopped in front of the window display filled with Valentine baked goodies. “Why do they do this?!” she complained, pointing at the window. “Someone puts all these mouth-watering pastries, cupcakes, cookies…and look…truffles, in this window to tempt people. Don’t they know our struggle?” she asked, still staring at the frosted, sprinkled and piped treats.
“No, they don’t understand our struggle because they’re oblivious that they themselves are sugar crack addicts. We really need to bring awareness to the public.” I began pondering other awareness promotions. “Hey maybe we need to create our own awareness program. You know, raise money just to create awareness. We could use some new chairs at our meeting space.” I said off topic.
I didn’t notice Jane reaching for the door. “Hey! What are doing?”
“I want a cupcake,” she stated plainly.
“So do I, but we are going to keep walking. And maybe come up with a fundraising campaign.”
She walked into the bakery. “Jane! Don’t go in there!” I pleaded, to no avail as she stepped inside. I followed her.
Carbs and sugar smell like bliss. Suddenly I realized I was drooling a little. We needed to get out there quick! “Jane, seriously, we gotta go,” I stated with urgency.
She was already headed to the counter, where a lovely woman was ready to take her order. Jane surveyed the bakery counter with intensity. “I want a Red Velvet cupcake, a chocolate cupcake, a strawberry cupcake, a dozen chocolate chip cookies and two of each flavor truffle,” she ordered with alarming accuracy and decisiveness.
“Whoa Jane!” I said as I walked up to her at the counter. She ignored me. I looked at the cashier. “She’s not serious. Don’t place that order.”
I had Jane’s attention. “I am ordering all that…and I quit S.C.R.A.P.Y.!”
“Jane let’s talk about this. If you’ll just step outside with me, we can have a calm conversation and you’ll be glad you didn’t buy anything,” I reassured her, “besides, all those sugar and carbs are only going to make you sick. You’ll definitely regret it in a day or two. Don’t waste your money.”
Jane locked eyes with the cashier, “Fill. My. Order.”
I walked to the side of where the cashier was standing and stated, “If you knew this woman’s struggles you wouldn’t sell her anything!” The cashier looked confused and looked back at Jane, who now had an angry look on her face.
“I can do anything I want!!” she yelled as she pulled out her wallet, grabbed what looked to be all the cash in it and handed it to the shocked and confused cashier.
“Jane, how much money is that!?” I said, feeling the situation had just turned for the worse.
“I want it ALL!” Jane exclaimed. The cashier quickly set upon counting the wad of cash just handed to her.
“Okay,” said the cashier.
“Not okay! Not. Okay!” I argued. But it was too late; Jane was barreling past me and headed to the cashier side of the bakery counter.
“Jane, you joined S.C.R.A.P.Y. for a reason. You’re having a weak moment. It will pass if you’ll just step outside with me. Hey, we’ll even get all your money back!” I said trying to reason with her.
Jane reached into the bakery counter with both hands, emerging with a cupcake in one hand and a truffle in the other. “STOP! DON’T DO IT,” I begged her. She put the cupcake under her nose and took a deep breathe. A smile spread across her face. Thirty percent of the cupcake disappeared into her mouth. Pink Valentine frosting covered her face. The truffle went in whole. Her mouth was full of some cupcake truffle blender swirl and she began dancing with delight. I could hear her making happy sounds as she almost hummed while she ate. She seemed oblivious to our presence now.
I knew I had to do something drastic.
Turning to the cashier, who was putting Jane’s money in the register, I explained I needed a bucket of ice water. “What?” said the cashier.
“I need water and ice in a pitcher or bucket. Surely you have both of those,” panic was overtaking me and I was losing my manners.
“Why?” asked the cashier looking suspiciously at me.
“You can get them or I will,” I stated with all seriousness.
She pointed to the kitchen behind a wall. I gathered my materials and headed back to the front. There was Jane, still dancing and humming. What looked to be about 3 cupcakes and half a tray of truffles were missing. Walking closer, I hurled the bucket of ice water at her.
Her gasp was audible. Runny, pink frosting mixed with liquid chocolate rolled down the front of her shirt. She looked down in disbelief to see she was soaked. Looking in my direction, she noticed the empty bucket in my hand. Shock and anger crept across her face.
Without saying a word, she snatched a cupcake out of the bakery counter and launched it at me. It landed on my shoulder. Cocking my head to one side, I walked over to the bakery counter and picked up a chocolate cupcake and returned the favor.
Chaos ensued as all manner of Valentine’s Day delights catapulted back and forth across an imaginary enemy line.
I’m not sure how much time we spent plastering one another in pink, red and chocolate but it all came to a halt when a police officer yelled, “What’s going on in here?!”
The cashier, who it turns out is also the owner of the bakery, simply stated we had gone crazy in her store and she would like us removed, immediately. We all took a trip to the police station. Before Jane and I were fingerprinted and our mug shots taken, we had explained what had happened and apologized profusely to the owner/cashier. She decided not to press charges since apparently the cash Jane gave her was substantial and quite enough to cover the mess we’d made. Turns out Jane had been saving for some really nice leather boots.
That same evening was our monthly S.C.R.A.P.Y. meeting. I explained to everyone what had happened. Someone asked if we should take a collection to create a bail fund. I felt that was the wrong direction to go. Bob, who always sits in the back, yelled out, “We need a Sugar Crack Rescue Squad.”
We all agreed that perhaps our trip to the pokey could have been avoided if I would have had such a group of members to call upon. Bob called a motion and Jane seconded. Who by the way had changed her mind and rejoined us.
I made another motion, “creating an awareness campaign” for the dangers of sugar crack. Everyone thought this was a great idea and agreed we could use better chairs.