One day a dear friend asks if I would be able to assist her in planning and shopping for her four year-old granddaughter’s upcoming birthday party. Like most little girls of four in America, my friend’s granddaughter is obsessed with the Walt Disney movie “Frozen”. “I’m completely out of practice and haven’t even seen the silly movie.” My friend explains as we shop for party decorations, paper place settings and a princess dress for the Guest of Honor. Our final stop is to Walmart to order the child’s birthday cake. It is getting late and my friend and I are hungry. “Don’t worry.” She says, “I know exactly what she wants.”
She speed-walks to the bakery with my short legs double-timing behind, and rings the service bell on the counter approximately 47 times. A freckled teenager burst through a backroom door to see if the bakery is on fire. “Can I help you?” she asks, annoyed. She removes the bell from the counter as my friend continues to pound on it. “Yes.” My friend says. “I need to order a cake for my granddaughter’s birthday.”
“Okay.” Says the girl. “Would you like to look at our character cakes?” She pulls out a large three-ring binder full of photos of princess and superhero cakes, but my friend brushes it aside. “No.” she says. “I already know, I would like a Zoloft cake.”
The teen pauses, pushing her glasses up on her nose in order to better inspect my friend. “Excuse me?”
My friend repeats herself irritably. “You know, a Zoloft cake! Everyone’s getting them these days.”
“I think you need the pharmacy.” The teen responds, slowly.
“What?” snaps my Yankee friend, preparing to unleash multiple obscenities upon the innocent child.
The two confused women cock their heads at one another, and this – for me, is just way too fun.
“I’ve got this.” I tell my friend, placing a hand gently upon her arm, and I turn to the teen who is clearly looking for me to make sense out of complete nonsense. “You are familiar with Disney’s movie Frozen, right?” I ask.
“Of course.” She says.
“Well then, you must have heard of the spin off that’s scheduled to come out in late February called “Fruity”
Everyone’s talking about it. It follows a similar storyline, although the characters give it an interesting new twist.
In Fruity, Queen Elavil, struggles to manage her emotions and spends years locked in her bedroom, giving everyone the cold shoulder.
Princess Ambien, her younger sister, suffers from sleep disorders due to a head injury she sustained as a child at the hands of her sister who, in a fit of uncontrolled anger, hit her in the head with a block of ice.
The two build a clinically depressed, yet lovable snowman named Zoloft,
whose antics provide much needed comic relief.
Together, the mentally unstable trio attend enough group therapy to reach the conclusion that love melts the frozen heart. Such a lovely message.” I sigh, touching my own heart, and dabbing invisible tears – a beautiful performance.
Now, both my friend and the teen are staring at me, mouths agape, heads cocked. “However!” I nearly shout, holding my forefinger high in the air, causing both women to jump. “Given the age of the child, and the mature subject matter, I suggest going with the old-school Frozen “Olaf” cake.”
My friend and I order the cake without further trauma and exit the store. On our way out, my friend looks at me suspiciously. “I have absolutely no idea what you were babbling on about back there.” She says.
“Let it go,” I say. “Just let it go.”
“I’m hungry.” She groans.
“I know.” I say. “I could really go for a warm piece of Zoloft cake right now. Couldn’t you?”