"Have you delivered the batik cake?"
"Batik cake?"
"THE batik cake" (imagine boggling eyes)
I rushed to my working kitchen, still in home's compound, and bring out a tray of frozen kek batik from the humongous freezer, which is big enough for 6 adult+one 6-year-old child's bodies to fit in (the accuracy is disturbing).
I saw Father was on the phone, probably calling the customer to apologize. Still keeping his head straight, he took the tray from me, along with his trademark cake knife-in-the-form-of-butcher knife and drove off.
Again I forgot the few cake orders bestowed on me. Maybe I should consider tattooing them (haram!)
