Passed by hundreds of people a day, no one cared to know, or find out how, a stale sliver of chocolate cake appeared. He relaxed cozily on the cool gray and black marble stairs, unaware that he was such an abhorrence to society that even hungry birds and famished furry creatures would not make a feast out of him.
The wind blew by and became a bit confused by him. She tried to blow the loose crumbs off of his crusty surface like spores, hoping to spawn another fresh pastry in a sunnier, friendlier place. Finally, the wind gave up too, leaving him to lounge lazily as he slowly rotted away, watching the busy world pass by as he did so.
Soon a curious fly landed and stuck its filthy proboscis deep into his hardened brown texture. That common housefly discovered his disguised elements. Among them, the golden wheat, blowing gracefully against the purple and crimson Kansas sunset, the hot steamy forest where his cocoa was born, to the Rhode Island Red, cackling proudly as she laid her perfect white eggs, the catalyst for the cake's batter.

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