No Cake for me, thanks.

I don't like Cake.
Sure, I know what you are thinking.
"Oh, come on now, everyone likes cake..."
Well, maybe "like" is not the correct word. It's not that I find it unpleasant, or am offended in some way by the taste or texture, it is that, given the choice, I would rather not eat it. I guess I should say, "I do not want cake". I go to a lot of Parties and events where there is usually some sort of Cake to mark whatever occasion prompted the get together. At some point, there is a dear friend, family member, acquaintance, or stranger holding out a plate of mostly frosting saying "Tiki King! Have some cake!"
I usually smile politely. "Oh, Thanks, but no, thank you"
"Oh come on!" They say, wiggling the plate like some sort of bait, or a biscuit for a dog, "...it's caaaaake!" There seems to be a universal rule that everyone wants cake. Again, I decline, "No, really, Thank you, but I don't want any"
This will usually escalate things, because I must want some sort of dessert item.
"...do you want some Pie? I could get you some Pie?"
Now it gets tough, because I like Pie a little less than I like cake.
It suddenly becomes a challenge, and the room begins to buzz...
"...he didn't want the cake..."
"did you offer pie?..."
"he didn't want pie, either..."
"...Do you want cookies?... hey do we have any cookies?"
"...do you want some coffee or something?..."
It's not like this with say, Caviar...or Haggis.
You can refuse Haggis, and, usually, no one pushes you.
"Oh come on!....everyone wants ground up sheep organs boiled in its own stomach (wiggling the plate)...it's.. got...Oatmeal!"
In fact, I can only count one time that I was chastised for not eating organ meats. It was at an Argentinean BBQ place. They boasted 17 kinds of roasted meat, generally wrapped in bacon, or stuffed with cheese, skewered on a sword, and broiled over an open flame. Unfortunately, three of the seventeen were, sweetbreads, kidneys and liver, all of which cause me to gag.
Hence, I only ate fourteen of the seventeen kinds of meat. Towards the end of the meal, the waiter presented us with swords of BBQd organs. "Rinones!, Mollejas!, Higado!" He had such enthusiasm, It was like a cheer. I smiled and raised my hand "No, no, grasias..." My companions laughed "solamente catorce clases de carne..." they chided, "...¿no muy hambriento?"
I rubbed my stomach, "I'm full, Really, I can't eat another bite"
I did not want to be rude. I also did not want to loose the lunch I had already had... My companions said something aside to the waiter that I did not catch, and he departed with his rejected swords of innards. My companions were still chuckling to each other, "solamente catorce clases de carne..."
They mocked me, rolling their eyes "Oh!...too full!" they laughed.
After a few minutes the waiter returned with a cart,
and presented us each with a large slice of Cake.

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