Vikings are the new Ninjas anyway Part 4: The Final Episode (or the one where Q makes Picard travel through time in an effot to save humanity, again)

This is the last entry about our attempts at a proper ceremony for our leftover wedding cake. All that is fancy talk for Viking Funeral. Click here for episodes one, two, and three.

With the toolbox safely returned to the laundry room and only minor damage done to the coffee table, it was now time to figure out where and how this conflagration was to take place.

It needed to be large enough that if something went wrong there would be enough water about to splash on the inevitable forest fire I was about to start. But it also needed to be small enough to avoid the prying eyes of dog-walkers and the fire marshal. And we wanted to do it during the day. We opted away from our large local rivers and runs for the fear that they were too public. Plus there was a real concern of pulling a Cuyahoga and lighting 4 Mile Run ablaze and then have it down into the Potomac. That would make a good anniversary gift, a pair of silver handcuffs.

A few ideas for lakes or ponds were thrown out as well, including sneaking into Arlington County’s Outdoor Lab facility, but all these naturally involved sneaking into things. I am relatively unsure about the legality of any of this entire project, so if trespassing could be part of any potential indictment, we tried to avoid it.

Fortunately, a recent long distant dog walking junket revealed a small creek within several miles of our house. As far as I can tell, this stream comes out of a pipe, travels a few hundred yards - in a most stream-like fashion - and then disappears into another pipe. It doesn’t smell particularly bad and when I threw a match into it I was relieved to see it was extinguished relatively quickly. Nameless creek, you are a winner.

While you’d think lighting a thin, dry, wooden box on fire would be an uncomplicated task, I wasn’t willing to take any chances. Plus, the cake could have grown some sort of mutated fire fighting fungus. So before the G, the dog and I set out to ruin the fire department’s day, I made sure to pack every accelerant I could find into my man-purse. But after digging around the house the only things that I could find that made the claim of being “highly flammable” were a can of PVC glue and a bottle of bicycle chain lubricant. I figured as long as we didn’t take giant deep breathes while this thing was burning we’d be good to go. I also threw in a couple of cheap cigarette lighters.

And now, The Cake.



That’s it in the bottom of the boat. Even after 2 years, it was still moist and the frosting smelled sugary. But rest assured, there was no way I was going to taste any of it. There’s still some cellophane with a little bit of icing on it in the bottom of the trash if you’re interested. As mentioned earlier the orange, fake tan color and delicious fungus spots were not part of the original order. You can also still see the decorative whatevers on the side that we probably paid an extra $3000 for. And by we, I mean the G’s parents.

With my wonderful wife and worthless dog standing guard, I gathered a few sticks and dried leaves and made a little pyre. I was going to pour the fluid from one of the lighters to help get things started, but those damn things are booby trapped. As soon as the plastic was breached the fluid shoots out in a spray. Unfortunately, it all sprayed into the water. And while the G had been good back up until this point, she suddenly became some Ranger Rick/Smokey Raccoon-Bear hybrid (the kind the President warned us about) and became very concerned for the waterways of the Metropolitan DC area and the fish that reside in them. This fretting intensified when she saw my back up plan to the lighter fluid was to dribble PVC glue over the cake. “There’s a nature sign back there says there are salamanders and other amphibians around here. I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I double checked that there were no salamanders hiding in the bottom of boat and continued.

Every thing was set for the flame. I eased the boat into the water, applied the fire, and watched as it promptly sank.



DAMN YOU KISSY BEAR! YOU HAVE SCREWED ME FOR THE LAST TIME!

It turns out the stuffed animal I was using as an approximate weight for the cake was too light. And these oars? Well, they do nothing. The boat didn’t sink all the way but the cake was certainly submerged. I pulled it into the shallow water, added a few more stick and sprayed it with the bicycle lube. The flame licked it up deliciously and engulfed the boat. Finally.



I made the mistake of trying to spray the last bit of lube onto the boat but all that resulted was the fire traveling up the stream into the bottle and then onto my hand. Instead of ending up like those kids who are burned with Silly String at birthday parties, I figured I’d just let nature take its course.

The dog freaked started flipping out at the sight of the fire and his barking was blowing our cover. So after everything burned down to the water line, we declared the thing a success and took the remains home. But since this whole escapade started because we didn’t want to merely throw the cake in the trash, I tossed the remains on the grill. There shall be nothing but ashes.

Here is where we finally get the results that I wanted. It’s also a Pyggy first: video.



Hello Daytime Emmy!

There you have it. A foolish idea carried out by fools. I hope in the future when historians examine the tradition of performing a Viking Funeral for your wedding cake on your 2nd anniversary they will acknowledge the idiocy of this site and the wasted time that went into its first earnest attempt.