Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe - Cakes Gone Wrong - The Birthday Cake & Arthur Takes the Cake

Episode Date: September 26, 2025

“Surely Mary wouldn’t miss one of those little buttercream shrubs…”On this week’s episode of Backstage, two stories about cakes, those special occasion cakes that promise to be oh so good… That is, until Dave and co. get involved… Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Our eyes go through a lot in a day, driving into the sun on the way to work, staring at a computer screen for hours, squinting at the phone in the dark before bed. That's why I've started making regular eye exams part of my routine. I go every September, not just to see if I need a new prescription for my glasses, but to make sure my eyes are healthy. Specsaver's locations are equipped with something called an OCT scan, That's short for optical coherence tomography. It's a 3D scan of your eye that helps independent optometrists detect eye and health conditions early.

And because it's so important, independent optometrists include it as part of every standard eye exam. Your eyes go through a lot, so take care of them. Book an eye exam with an OCT scan from $99 at specksavers.cavers.ca. Prices may vary by location. Visit specksavers.com. to learn more. From the apostrophe podcast network. Hello, I'm Jess Milton, and this is backstage at the Vinyl Cafe.

Welcome. Welcome. It's. birthday season in our house, my eldest daughter, Eloise, turns eight next month, and her little sister, Annabel, turns six, two weeks later. One of our birthday traditions is cake for breakfast. The girls start talking about their birthday cakes like 11 months before their birthdays, and they changed them several times over the months leading into birthday season. This year, Eloise wants an apple cake shaped like an apple. And Annabel, so far at least, wants a heart-shaped cake, chocolate cake, vanilla icing, and red heart-shaped sprinkles.

I wish I'd thought to buy those back around Valentine's Day. Anyway, today on the pod, we're going to be talking all about cakes. We've got two Dave and Morley stories for you. In our first story, Dave is left in charge of Mary Turlington's very special cake. What could possibly go wrong? In our second story, Arthur the Dog does exactly what pets do so well. He livens up the party with some spectacular cake action of his own. But we're going to start with this one.

This is the birthday cake. They say that love is blind. We all know they're right. There is no end of the mischief of a myopic heart can hatch. No end at all. but you don't have to be love-struck to stir up trouble. Those lesser emotions can be just as dangerous. No one would ever say that Bert Turlington loves Dave.

But Bert wouldn't deny that he feels a certain fondness. He might even say affection for his neighbor. It's not love. More maybe the accumulation of feelings that bind people together when they live side by side for many years. the small kindnesses and courtesies of what amounts to an arranged marriage. So you could forgive Bert Turlington his neighborly heart when he blurted out his invitation to Dave that night in the park. You might, but Bert's wife, Mary, didn't.

You what? said Mary? Bert invited Dave and Morley to drive with them to Montreal for Harold Buskirt's 65th birthday. And to stay with us, added Mary, in Renee's house. It just came out, said Bert, unexpectedly. David said something about how he and Morley weren't sure they were going to make it to the party. They hadn't made hotel reservations, and you know. And Bert thought, no, said Mary. don't use that word

you didn't think there wasn't any thought involved Harold Buzzkirk who used to live up by the park was turning 65 and pretty much the whole neighborhood was going to Montreal for the party people had been working on sketches and speeches and songs

and Mary had been working on the cake but not just any cake a masterpiece a frangelico-soaked chocolate fudge cake with white chocolate icing and an orange buttercream and truffle ganache filling. It was Harold's retirement as well as his birthday, and Mary was going to decorate her cake, so it looked like a golf course, complete with little buttercream golf balls and a marzipan foursome standing triumphantly on the ninth day. Bert and Mary were driving to Montreal.

They were staying at Renee Gallivan's house. Renee is Mary's boss. Renee was in Florida, or Palm Springs, one of those places. You said it was a mansion, said Bert. I thought there'd be plenty of room. There was that word again. Bert was talking to himself again. Mary had stormed off.

They left on Saturday morning just after lunch. Not that anyone actually ate lunch. They were supposed to leave before. lunch and eat on the road, but Mary had a moment with the icing and there was a last-minute cake flurry and lunch was lost. But there they were, on the road, two in the afternoon and nearly in Kingston, a mere two hours behind schedule. The four of them in Bert's Volvo, the luggage in the trunk, the cake in the cooler, Dave and Morley in the backseat, and Mary in a state. The cooler with the cake was wedged onto the

armrest between Dave and Morley. They could barely see each other over the core. As they roared past Kingston, Dave said there's a great burger joint up ahead. If anyone felt like a no stopping, said Mary. There's no time for stopping. At Cornwall, Dave, who was completely famished, made a lame joke that if he could eat his cake now. And Mary whirled around and said if Dave as much as breathed on her cake, he could start walking. There's no doubt that Mary was wound up. She was wound up tighter than a seven-day clock. The cake was iced with the green icing, but she still had to add the decorations, and it had to chill after that, and Mary had promised Harold they'd be at the club early to help with the setup. They were two and a half hours behind schedule

when they pulled up in front of Renee's house, the limestone house on upper Walnut Crescent, a little-known cul-de-sac near the top of Westmount Mountain. Holy Crow, said Dave, as he unfolded himself from the back seat. He was standing on the sidewalk and staring at the huge red oak doors at the mahogany fluting and the maple rosettes at the lead-pained windows at the thick stone walls. Oh, my, said Mary, they were all standing on the sidewalks,

sidewalk now. Wow, said Bert. Remember everyone said Mary? We have to leave everything exactly the way we found it. She was staring at Dave. As Dave stepped through the threshold and into the marble foyer,

Morley put her arm on his elbow and whispered just don't touch anything. The kitchen turned out to be in the basement. The kind of kitchen where help rather than family worked. It had a fireplace. Holy Crow, said Dave, you could roast an ox in there and a walk-in fridge. Look at this, said Dave. Mary was decorating her cake,

sticking little marzipan flags carefully into the center of the little greens. Morley was standing beside her holding a bowl of brown icing for the sand traps. Bert was wiping the counters. Everyone was tiptoeing around, trying not to disturb a thing, trying not to make a mass. And no one was trying harder than Dave. I'll take the luggage to the bedrooms, said Dave. Soon enough, the cake was decorated and in the fridge, and everyone was ready to go, though not the cake. The cake had to chill for at least an hour, or better too. As long as possible, said Mary. But Mary was already supposed to be at the party. Dave said, you guys should go. Dave said, I'll stay and bring the cake when it's ready. Now, what's so funny about that? Morley wrote down the address of the

banquet hall for Dave so he could take a taxi, and then Morley and Bert and Mary left in Bert's car. once they were gone Dave set off to see if he could find something to eat it was while he was looking for anything even remotely edible that Dave found the most amazing feature of the mansion a wood paneled elevator the kind you might see in an old British hotel about the size of a foam booth he opened what he thought was a cupboard door and there it was it had brass fittings and a brass needle over the door to show you where you were. He would have taken a ride, but he didn't have time to waste. They were waiting

for him at the hall. He went downstairs and fetched the cake from the cooler. It was touching the greens and the flags and the buttercream shrubs all around the circumference. He carried it carefully over to the counter. He wasn't going to mess this up. Okay, he had everything. Wait a minute. No, he didn't. The address for the party was upstairs in the bedroom. He started up the stairs, and then he stopped dead. He shouldn't leave the cake unattended. The house was so vast. There might be dogs or cats or any number of things roaming around that could get into it. He went back down the stairs and fetched the cake and started up again. Four floors. Wait a minute. The elevator. He should take the elevator. The elevator would be safer. He went in backwards. The brass door accordion behind him. It was like stepping back in time

to a dimmer time, a time before electricity. He stood there in the dimness, the cake safely beside him on the floor. He grabbed the elevator handle and plunged it to the right. There was a bang and a shudder and a sudden lurch and the elevator started to move. He could almost feel the chains hauling them up, as if there were two or three men at the top of this elevator, and not strong men either, huffing and puffing as they turned some rusty crank. Come on, said Dave. The elevator was moving, but it was moving in small, jerky increments. The shaft seemed to be too loose for the car.

There was a lot of wobble. and then there was no wobble at all there was nothing absolutely nothing are we moving said Dave they weren't moving

they being Dave in the cave not up that is but that didn't mean there was no movement there was still plenty of movement the little car felt like it was swinging back and forth like a bucket on the end of a rope. Hello?

Anybody? I'm trapped in the elevator. He took a deep breath. He reached out and put his hand on the door handle. He opened the elevator door. He was staring at a wall of plaster. There was a big number three written on the plaster in red chalk. He sat in the corner of the elevator, his head in his arms.

He realized he could die in there. But really, what did that matter? If he didn't get the cake to the hall on time, Mary would kill him anyway. An hour went by. Shouldn't he be here by now, said Mary to Bert. He'll be here, said Bert, with more hope than conviction. He's probably sitting in a taxi right now with the cake in his lap. Bert was half right.

Dave had the cake in his lap, but he wasn't sitting in a taxi. He was sitting in the elevator, and he'd eaten every second shrub. Half an hour later, the little golf course had shrunk from nine to seven holes. and the marzipan foursome was a two-sum. And Dave was sitting there eyeing the little golf cart. And that's when he spotted the emergency phone. It didn't fill him with hope. There was no dial.

It was covered in dust. He picked it up and brought it to his ear. The other end of that phone. And therefore Dave's only salvation that night, was in the hands of a university student. The student, a weekend employee, was beginning his second overnight shift. And he was stretched across three office chairs

in front of the surveillance panel so deeply asleep that he wasn't only snoring. He was drooling. The student had been trained the night before by the woman who had had the shift before him. She'd been in a hurry to leave. His training had lasted last. than 15 minutes. She showed him the computer and the surveillance panel, but she didn't say anything

about any phones. So when a phone began to ring, it took him by complete surprise. He sat up with a jerk and looked around. He was so dopey with sleep. He couldn't figure where the ringing was coming from. When he finally opened the cupboard on the other side of the room, you could have knocked him over with a feather. There wasn't a phone in there. There were 50, phones in there. All of them attached to the wall. All of them red, all of them missing their dials. They looked like the kind of phones you might use to launch a missile strike. There were so many phones that it was impossible to tell which one was ringing. The student started picking the phones up at random. Before he found the right one, the ringing stopped. It took them

a while to get back to sleep after that. About an hour passed before the phone rang again. This time the student ran to the cupboard right away. This time he got the right phone on the fifth ring. Hello? He said.

Dave was as surprised as he was to find someone on the other end of the line. Dave said, I'm stuck in the elevator. Then just to be sure the kid understood the severity of his situation, he added, with Mary's cake. What?

What? said the student. I'm in the elevator, said Dave. Which elevator, said the student. How many elevators are there, said Dave. I don't know, said the student. I'm new. Dave explained about the house on the mountain and the cake and the party. I know where I'm going, said Dave. but I don't know where I am. The student said, is this like a test or something? Dave said, this is real.

You've got to send somebody to help me. And the student said, I can't send help if I don't know where you are. I'll get fined. Call me back when you know where you are. And he hung up. Dave stood up. Dave stood in his elevator, staring at the handset in disbelief. He was so hungry he could barely think straight.

Desperate times require desperate measures. He slid the cake so it was half off the plate and stood up and held it very carefully over his head. He began to nibble at the bottom of the cake. Then he stuck his right hand right into the cake and pulled out a fistful of the chocolate ganache. Mary would never know. He sat on the floor looking the icing off his fingers. He picked up the phone again.

It rang ten times. Hello? It's me, said Dave. Me too, said the kid. listen I'm sorry I hung up said the kid I'm a little scared me too said Dave what are you scared of I'm scared I might get fired if you die do you think I'd have to put it on my resume it took them half an hour to figure it out there was a number on the phone number 52 they were talking on phone number 52 all the other

phones had different numbers. The kid found a binder with a legend, an address that corresponded to each phone number. You're on Upper Walnut Crescent, said the kid. Back at the hotel, Mary was beside herself. The main course had been served and there was still no sign of Dave. Bert said, I'll go. I'm sure everything's fine. I'll go and check. He wasn't really sure. Mary stared at him, Mary said, you stay here. Mary's taxi pulled up in front of the Gallivan's house 15 minutes

after the fire trucks. So Mary missed the part where they drove the axe through the red oak front doors. But she was there when the elevator doors opened to see Dave huddled over her cake like a raccoon huddled over a garbage tank.

His hands and face were covered in icing. He'd been trying to smooth out the cake service with his fingers. When Dave saw Mary, he stood up and held the cake out at her and smiled like a child handing in a class project. Safe and sound, he said. They both stared at the cake without saying a word. and as they did, the lone marzipan golfer standing by what was now the sixth and final hole started to sink slowly.

First to his knees and then to his waist as the entire cake began to collapse into itself as if it was built on a giant sinkhole. neither of them said anything on the long drive back to the party although a Dave suggestion they stopped at an all-night grocery store and bought a replacement cake the only cake left in the store a my little pony birthday cake the drive home the next day was even quieter as was the rest of the audience

him the first time there was ever a noticeable strain between the neighbors. Not actual unpleasantness, just a determined quiet, which was unpleasant enough in itself. And then one night, seemingly out of the blue, Bert called and invited Dave and Morley for dinner. They couldn't have picked a worst night. It was Dave's birthday. Dave and Morley had reservations at a little Italian place they favor. Cancel them, said Morley. And so they went next door, and dinner was not unpleasant, though it was awkward. Mary seemed to be trying hard to let bygones be bygones, but you could tell it was a strain. And then it was time for dessert. And Mary went into the kitchen and came back with a birthday cake, a my little pony birthday cake.

She carried it to the table and she set it down in front of her and then she blew out the candles herself. And then she picked it up and very carefully turned it over and scooped out a handful from the bottom of the cake and plopped it on Dave's plate. Mary said,

that's the way you like it, right? Dave sat there staring at his plate not knowing what he should do, looking back and forth between Mary and his wife. It was Morley who started to giggle. Morley giggled, Mary smiled, and Bert started laughing so hard he was pounding the table. They all laughed. They all laughed and laughed. Call them friends.

Call them neighbors. Call it fondness or call it affection. Call it love if you want to. It's really the only choice. You fight or you swallow your pride and you laugh. And that's what they did. They laughed. It's what good neighbors always do.

That was the story we call the birthday cake. We're going to take a short break now. So let's all go grab a bite of something sweet and meet back here in a couple of minutes. Our eyes go through a lot in a day, driving into the sun on the way to work, staring at a computer screen for hours, squinting at the phone in the dark before bed. That's why I've started making regular eye exams part of my routine. I go every September, not just to see if I need a new prescription for my glasses, but to make sure my eyes are healthy. Specsaver's locations are

equipped with something called an OCT scan, that's short for optical coherence tomography. It's a 3D scan of your eye that helps independent optometrists detect eye and health conditions early. And because it's so important, independent optometrists include it as part of every standard eye exam. Your eyes go through a lot, so take care of them. Book an eye exam with an OCT scan from $99 at specksavers.cavers.ca. Prices may vary by location, visit specksavers.ca to learn more. Welcome back. Time for our second story now.

This is Stuart McLean with Arthur takes the cake. On a Friday afternoon a month ago, Ralph Holden, the artistic director of the Century of Wind Theater Company, where Morley works, slipped into Morley's office, shut the door conspiratorially, and said, I have two words that are going to change our lives. Two words, said Morley. Theo Stavro, said Ralph. Theo Stavro said Morley. The developer, said Ralph, who we despise, said Morley, because I forget, who we love and respect and honor, said Ralph. What, said Morley? Because, said Ralph, he is married to Vivian Stavros. Aha, said Morley.

Morley. That would be the Vivian, said Ralph, who just pledged $5,000. Love them, said Morley. Respect them, she said. And honor, said Ralph, don't forget honor. Deeply, said Morley. And then she said, we should. You bet we should, said Ralph. And that's how Morley came to be standing in her kitchen on a recent Saturday at 8.15 a.m. With a cookbook open in front of her, Morley was not normally uptight about having people over. She's usually at ease about these sort of deals. Of course, these sort of deals usually involve people Morley is at ease with.

But on this Saturday morning, the Saturday Theo and Vivian Stavros were going to be honored in her living room. Morley was not at ease. What, said Dave, can I do to help? Cut him some slack, will you? For the rest of the day, Dave ran errands, and he picked up and he vacuumed, and he dusted. He borrowed three living room chairs from the Turlington's. For the rest of the day, he was helpful, Dave. And while Dave was busy being helpful, Morley prepared a large glass bowl of baked winter fruits,

a platter of chocolate honey snaps, and her pieste resistance, a frosty lemon cake topped with a mountain of lemon cream. At 5 o'clock, a caterer delivered plates of smoked salmon, tie, spring rolls, pattees, dumplings, and dipping sauce, sushi, and little crab tarts. At 5.30, more or less, on top of things, Morley sat Sam down. You can't come into the living room. You can't pick at the food. They ordered pizza and wings for Sam and a family-sized bottle of root beer. Sam went to the corner and came back with two videos. I can be seen but not heard, said Sam.

But only seen briefly, said Marley. I'm not banishing you, she said. It seemed important that he should know that he could be there as long, said Sam, as I'm not here. Exactly, said Marley. I can do that, said Sam. At 10 to 7 just before the guests were scheduled to arrive, Sam spotted the dumplings.

Hey, he said. No, said Morley. One dumpling, said Sam. You have pizza coming, said Morley. Just one, said Sam. No. No. Sam made his brief appearance. He took coats at the door.

And then his pizza arrived and he disappeared. He carried his stuff upstairs and into the den and he shut the door behind him. And he put on the first movie that he had rented. A film his friend Murphy had recommended. Robert Altman's 1980 musical version of the Anne armed sailor, Popeye. One of the most shamefully neglected films of recent times, said Murphy. The trouble with having a precocious friend is the same as the benefits.

Their enthusiasms inevitably lead you somewhere you'd never go by yourself. In this case, Jules Fife's sassy script and Harry Nielsen's eccentric songs were just too much for Sam, especially with platters a hot dumplings calling to him. He paused the film and he slipped out of the den. He went to the railing at the top of the stairs. He lay down on the floor and pressed his face into the banister. There is, it turns out, only so much loneliness a kid can take when he's banished in his own home and the warm chatter of grown-ups is floating up the stairs

mixed with a steamy, heady, sweet smell of hot dumplings. Sam had promised that he wouldn't be seen or heard, but he hadn't made any promises about those dumplings. Getting from where he was, however, into the kitchen where the dumplings were was not going to be the easiest task in the world, especially since the kitchen was beside the living room full of adults where his father, and most importantly, his mother were. But Sam had had all he could take of Robert Altman, and the thought of those oily white dumplings and the sweet brown dipping sauce was more than he could take.

To get into the kitchen, unnoticed, Sam would need a distraction. And there at his feet was Arthur the dog. Sam jumped up and ran back into the den. He came back with one of the pizza crusts. He waved the crust under Arthur's nose. Arthur's cloudy eyes lit up. Come, said Sam. He led the dog quietly down the stairs and along the hall.

They stopped just before the door to the living room. Sam let Arthur have one last whiff of the crust. And then he lobbed it underhand the length of the hall toward the bathroom. It arced unseen past the living room. It landed on the bathroom floor. It bounced and slid toward the toilet. Arthur barked. Arthur's legs began to windmill on the hardwood floor.

Sam, who was holding Arthur by the collar out of sight of everyone in the living room, let him go. It was like releasing a fully revved stock car. There wasn't smoke, there wasn't squealing tires, but there was everything else. Arthur blowing by the living room like a pack of wolves. And while all eyes were on the dog, Sam slipped into the kitchen. Arthur, meanwhile, hoovered up the crust and he looked around for more.

And when he spotted Sam standing in the kitchen door with an arm full of dumplings, Arthur yelped and took off. When he hit the kitchen, he was going full speed ahead and he tried to put on the brakes, but he just slid across the linolium like a curling stone, gliding by Sam and barking with excitement, sucking up and offered dumplings, on the way by, bouncing off the fridge, and finally smacking into the leg of the kitchen table. Oh, yes. Which wouldn't have been a big deal if that wasn't where Morley's frosty lemon cake was waiting to be served.

Exactly. The frosty lemon cake with a lemon icing flew straight into the air. It went up fast, but it came down faster. It landed in the middle of Arthur's back. Iceing side down. It stuck like a saddle. Arthur leapt in the air, twisting his head and contorting his old body like a bucking bronco. Snapping at the cake, which was just beyond his reach,

which for all he knew could have been a living thing, was probably the cat. At any moment, it was going to sink its claws into his shoulders. The thought terrified him. Arthur took off down the hall, full speed. Sam, bolting for the washroom at the same time, slamming the door shut. Arthur careening around the corner into, you guessed it, the living room. He stopped dead.

So did the conversation. Everybody staring at him. Arthur staring at them, and poor Vivian Stavros, who had once in England been served a dessert off a toy train that chugged around a dining room table. Fought to herself, eating cake off a dog's back was where she drew the line. Meanwhile, Arthur's legs stiffened, and his shoulders began to twitch, and he seemed to inflate. He grew bigger and bigger right there in front of their eyes. And too late to do anyone any good, Vivian Stavros realized what was really about to happen. My God, she screamed, he's going to shake.

Before the words came out of her mouth, the quivering dog became a shuddering dog, and bits of pieces of cake were flying off them and spraying around the room, cake splattering off the walls and the chairs and the dresses and the hairdos. It was like a snowstorm a cake. It was a nightmare a cake. It was worse than Halifax in April. Sam, watching through the keyhole with disbelief at the chaos that he had caused, there was cake everywhere.

A chunk the size of a chicken breast had landed in Vivian Stavros's lap. Arthur spotted it before she did. And there he was heading towards her looking like a wolf. Vivian screamed and tried to struggle to her feet. Too late. Sam on his knees in the washroom, his plated dumplings beside him. He could see all of this as plain as day. And then all of a sudden all he could see was Vivian Stavros heading towards him.

Vivian from the waist down her gray skirt and cake splattered legs looming larger. Vivian heading towards the bathroom door. Sam reached up quickly for the lock. He glanced down at the mound of dumplings beside him and felt his heart sink. He had to do something fast because before long he was going to have to open the door and face the lady in the gray skirt

and maybe his mother. He stuffed two dumplings into each of his pockets. He carried the remaining ones morosely over to the toilet. He tipped them into it. He flushed. The cake wasn't the worst thing, said Morley the following Monday. The cake wasn't the worst thing, said Morley on that Monday as she sat in her office going over the night with Ralph Holden. You're right, said Ralph. It was definitely the block toilet.

How long do you think she was in there? said Morley. I'd say a good 20 minutes, said Ralph. If she had just asked for a plunger, said Morley. Would you ask for a plunger, said Ralph? I guess you're right, said Morley. I guess she said reaching for a pen. It's time for plan too, right?

Thank you very much. That was Arthur takes the cake. That was an old one from way back in the early days of the vinyl cafe. Our eyes go through a lot in a day. Driving into the sun on the way to work, staring at a computer screen for hours, squinting at the phone in the dark before bed. That's why I've started making regular eye exams part of my routine. I go every September, not just to see if I need a new prescription for my glasses,

but to make sure my eyes are healthy. Spexsaver's locations are equipped with something called an OCT scan, that's short for optical coherence tomography. It's a 3D scan of your eye that helps independent opts, optometrists detect eye and health conditions early. And because it's so important, independent optometrists include it as part of every standard eye exam. Your eyes go through a lot, so take care of them. Book an eye exam with an OCT scan from $99 at specksavers.cavers.ca. Prices may vary by location. Visit specksavers.cavers.ca to learn more.

All right, that's it for today. But we'll be back here next week with more stories, like this one. And on the top floor, in Sam and Murphy's room, there was a two-foot troll being lowered out the window on the curtain sash. At any moment, it was going to come even with a window of the girls' room one floor below. It's red eyes flashing menacing menacingly. That's next week on the podcast. I hope you'll join us.

Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe is part of the apostrophe podcast network. The recording engineer is Cake Boss Greg DeCleut. Theme music is by Danny Michelle, and the show is produced by Louise Curtis, Greg DeClute, and me, Jess Milton. Let's meet again next week. Until then, so long for now. Our eyes go through a lot in a day,

driving into the sun on the way to work, staring at a computer screen for hours, squinting at the phone in the dark before bed. That's why I've started making regular eye exams part of my routine. I go every September, not just to see if I need a new prescription for my glasses, but to make sure my eyes are healthy. Speck Saver's locations are equipped with something called an OCT scan, that's short for optical coherence tomography. It's a 3D scan of your eye that helps independent optometrists detect eye and health conditions early.

And because it's so important, independent optometrists include it as part of every standard eye exam. Your eyes go through a lot, so take care of them. Book an eye exam with an OCT scan from $99 at specksavers.cavers.ca. Prices may vary by location. Visit specksavers.cavers.ca to learn more.