I have recently resumed communications with a dear old friend from long ago, via Facebook. I was so pleased to find that after reading my previous post about King Cake, she was inspired to create one of her own. A King Cake was made and taken to her office in Denver, CO for her co-workers to enjoy. A bit of Mardi Gras in the Mountains. I was absolutely charmed. She related in a message that someone made up a story that whoever found the Baby in their piece was to become pregnant. This actually made me nauseous and took the wind right out of me. I was aghast. Any "charm" that I felt absolutely fell away, like crumbs of stale King Cake from the front of my sweatshirt.
How could this happen, this abomination? Taking the simple yet noble tradition of finding the tiny figure in a King Cake and having it become some retarded baby-shower perversion? I suggested that everyone involved in this unholy massacre should become pregnant, only to violently miscarry in the third tri-mester to spare the world of their ignorant, blasphemous spawn.
I did take some comfort in reading that after this outrageous assignation occurred, the baby reappeared about three times in different pieces of King Cake. That suggested that no one wished to become pregnant at all. "Pass the curse on to JoAnne....she'll eat anything."