S.R.O.

At rise: Sexy apron-wearing Jenny is still baking in her well-worn kitchen with the flour-covered red floor, making more of the super tiny bite-size sandwich cookies for decoration's sake for tomorrow's mini wedding cake. D.J.'s on a sleepover with that generous family.

Eight-thirty p.m. Phone rings.

"Hi, cafe dude...Well, that is great...Really?...Wow!...Can I make more for tomorrow...?"

[This is exactly how I visualized it—that they would sell out, and I would have ten more waiting to swiftly bring across the street.]

"Um, well, actually, no. I've got my baking/pastry class all day tomorrow, those tins you ordered used up all my batter, and I need twenty-four hours to get the bread just right...What's that? Jenny's Bread Pudding?...Well, yes. That sounds good...Let's call it a success, then, and reboot for next weekend..."

!!!

So, if any of you peeps bought my bread pudding, hollah!