On the morning of Uncle Joe's Birthday, all the Bradley women were working in the kitchen to get things ready. Homer Bedloe made sure he got up extra early so he wouldn't miss out on the cake surprise. He said good morning to everyone and sat down to wait for breakfast.
"Bobby Jo, get the cake out," Kate said as she set the table.
"Yes, ma'am," the brunette replied, strolling over to the cupboard. She reached inside and took out the cake. Then she shrieked in horror and dropped it on the floor.
Kate whirled around. "What's the matter with you?"
Bobby Jo pointed to the cake. "Ants!"
Kate leaned over and looked closely at the cake on the floor. Sure enough, there were tiny ants scurrying over every inch of icing and cake.
"Oh dear," Kate said, feeling faint.
Uncle Joe ran into the room. "What's all the yelling about? Did somebody get hurt?" Then he looked down and saw the mess on the floor.
"That was supposed to be your Birthday cake," Kate said, sadly. "But the ants got to it. I'm sorry, Uncle Joe."
"Well…don't be upset, Kate. It's the thought that counts."
Homer Bedloe had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. Everything was going according to plan. He couldn't believe his good luck.
"I'll get the mop," said Betty Jo.
Uncle Joe just looked down at the ruined cake and scratched his head. "How do you suppose the ants got in there anyway?"
"I don't know, but they did apparently," said Homer Bedloe.
"Hey, do you know anything about this, Mr. Bedloe?" Uncle Joe wondered.
"Me? Why would I?"
"Hm. I dunno. But we're watching you," Uncle Joe said, squinting his eyes in a suspicious way.
Homer scoffed.
They still think I'm after the Cannonball. They think they're so smart. They can keep their stupid little train for all I care. No permanent damage has been done. I haven't hurt anybody. I'm having my fun and I'll be on my way soon.
Homer Bedloe went over the events of the previous days in his head. He was having quite a good time doing bad things to the enemy. He was a mean man and proud of it. But days were passing by and pretty soon it had been a whole week. Tomorrow he would have to get back on the train and go home. But he still had some time left – and hardly a minute went by where he wasn't thinking, plotting, or scheming. He wandered out onto the porch that night and privately congratulated himself for being…well, himself.
The End