If you have a cake and you don't share it with anyone, you have one cake, some annoyed friends, and most likely a stomach ache. Or maybe it's a very small cake and it was a gift. In that case, you shouldn’t share it. Go ahead and eat the whole thing.
If you have a cake and you split it among two people, you each get half the cake. Then you have two people with stomach aches, which is a bonding moment in its own right. Or, again, if it’s a small cake, you have a lovely romantic dessert.
If you have a cake and you split it among five people, you have a personal and delightful party, most likely of the birthday variety. Each person can use their own discretion about the amount of cake to consume, and will have either leftovers or a stomach ache. With it being their choice, you shouldn't feel guilty. You should never feel guilty for sharing cake, I think.
If you have a cake and you split it among twenty people, you have a birthday party of a larger size, though it's clear you still have a refined guestlist. I can also safely assume there are people here who don’t know each other yet. Make sure everyone has someone to talk to. There’s more to hosting than just providing a cake.
If you have a cake and you split it among fifty people, this is a large party, at least by my standards. I hope you have a bigger cake than you did at your twenty person party. No? Ok. Good luck. You know, I’ve heard dipping the knife in water helps. You certainly haven’t got a crumb to waste.
If you have a cake and you split it among one hundred people, I’m going to assume this is a wedding. I’ll also assume you hired caterers. I apologize for my many assumptions, by the way. I don’t mean to offend. Perhaps you have a reason for inviting a hundred people over to share a cake that isn't a wedding. Or maybe this is a wedding, but you made all the food yourself, thank you very much. I hope that's not the case, if only for my own sake, because then I'd be wrong.
If you have a cake and you split it among two hundred people, I can say with even more confidence that this is a wedding. And a lively one! And because, despite all my apologies, I don't do much in the nature of changing my ways, I will once again assume you have hired caterers. And I certainly hope they make good food, because no one is getting a large slice of this cake. Maybe you’ll give yourself and the other newlywed normal sized pieces and leave everyone else to their crumbs. They’ll watch with jealous eyes as you messily feed each other slices. But there I go again! I hope your two hundred guests love and understand you, and are not jealous of the size of your slice of cake.
If you have a cake and you split it among five hundred people, I have to say I’m impressed you know that many at all. Did you know sheep can only remember fifty faces? You know ten times as many people as a sheep. I hope you feel proud of yourself.
If you have a cake and you split it among a thousand people, I hope I’m invited. Even if I only get a crumb, I hope I’m in the top thousand people you care about enough to share cake with. Do you think there’s a thousand crumbs in a cake? A million? One hundred? When does a slice stop being a slice, and start being a crumb? I imagine you will ask yourself this as you raise and lower the knife five hundred times.
If you have a cake and you split it among a million people, it will probably go stale before you can get it to all of them.
If you have a cake and you split it among a billion people, I’d begin to suspect you’re a bit of a people pleaser. You weren’t happy just giving it to the ten people at the top of your list. Instead you had to find 999,999,990 more. I have to know: Did you give any to people you dislike? Or did you find strangers, willing to bet on assumed kindness, and offer them slices instead? After all, better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. Or maybe, when you’re looking for a billion people, you might as well give some to both.
If you have a cake and you split it among infinite people, it will be like there was never any cake in the first place. But there was. You stirred the flour and butter and sugar and eggs, put it in the oven, waited for it to turn a perfect golden brown. After it cooled, you iced it. It came out a little wonky, but it looked good. You don’t know how it tasted, though. When you split a cake among infinite people, it doesn't matter how many slices you get. They are like air on your tongue. But it was there. It still mattered.
If you have a cake and you split it among two people, you each get half the cake. Then you have two people with stomach aches, which is a bonding moment in its own right. Or, again, if it’s a small cake, you have a lovely romantic dessert.
If you have a cake and you split it among five people, you have a personal and delightful party, most likely of the birthday variety. Each person can use their own discretion about the amount of cake to consume, and will have either leftovers or a stomach ache. With it being their choice, you shouldn't feel guilty. You should never feel guilty for sharing cake, I think.
If you have a cake and you split it among twenty people, you have a birthday party of a larger size, though it's clear you still have a refined guestlist. I can also safely assume there are people here who don’t know each other yet. Make sure everyone has someone to talk to. There’s more to hosting than just providing a cake.
If you have a cake and you split it among fifty people, this is a large party, at least by my standards. I hope you have a bigger cake than you did at your twenty person party. No? Ok. Good luck. You know, I’ve heard dipping the knife in water helps. You certainly haven’t got a crumb to waste.
If you have a cake and you split it among one hundred people, I’m going to assume this is a wedding. I’ll also assume you hired caterers. I apologize for my many assumptions, by the way. I don’t mean to offend. Perhaps you have a reason for inviting a hundred people over to share a cake that isn't a wedding. Or maybe this is a wedding, but you made all the food yourself, thank you very much. I hope that's not the case, if only for my own sake, because then I'd be wrong.
If you have a cake and you split it among two hundred people, I can say with even more confidence that this is a wedding. And a lively one! And because, despite all my apologies, I don't do much in the nature of changing my ways, I will once again assume you have hired caterers. And I certainly hope they make good food, because no one is getting a large slice of this cake. Maybe you’ll give yourself and the other newlywed normal sized pieces and leave everyone else to their crumbs. They’ll watch with jealous eyes as you messily feed each other slices. But there I go again! I hope your two hundred guests love and understand you, and are not jealous of the size of your slice of cake.
If you have a cake and you split it among five hundred people, I have to say I’m impressed you know that many at all. Did you know sheep can only remember fifty faces? You know ten times as many people as a sheep. I hope you feel proud of yourself.
If you have a cake and you split it among a thousand people, I hope I’m invited. Even if I only get a crumb, I hope I’m in the top thousand people you care about enough to share cake with. Do you think there’s a thousand crumbs in a cake? A million? One hundred? When does a slice stop being a slice, and start being a crumb? I imagine you will ask yourself this as you raise and lower the knife five hundred times.
If you have a cake and you split it among a million people, it will probably go stale before you can get it to all of them.
If you have a cake and you split it among a billion people, I’d begin to suspect you’re a bit of a people pleaser. You weren’t happy just giving it to the ten people at the top of your list. Instead you had to find 999,999,990 more. I have to know: Did you give any to people you dislike? Or did you find strangers, willing to bet on assumed kindness, and offer them slices instead? After all, better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. Or maybe, when you’re looking for a billion people, you might as well give some to both.
If you have a cake and you split it among infinite people, it will be like there was never any cake in the first place. But there was. You stirred the flour and butter and sugar and eggs, put it in the oven, waited for it to turn a perfect golden brown. After it cooled, you iced it. It came out a little wonky, but it looked good. You don’t know how it tasted, though. When you split a cake among infinite people, it doesn't matter how many slices you get. They are like air on your tongue. But it was there. It still mattered.