The Elusive Fruitcake

"What's fruitcake?" answered the baker at the local warehouse club when Richard asked for his favorite holiday treat.
"Then I guess you don't have it." he replied.
He drove across town to a competitor and asked the same question after searching the aisles.
"What's fruitcake?"
Could it be that we moved to a fruitcake free county? We're the only married couple on earth that BOTH love fruitcake. Christmas is not complete without several different varieties making our New Year's resolutions always the same. Lose a few pounds.
"We're going to the old neighborhood for Thanksgiving. We'll get some there and put them in the freezer when we get home."
I was meeting some old friends for lunch. "Can one of them take you to Costco for the fruitcake?" Richard asked more than once.
They all had to go back to work so they couldn't make the trip. I decided to go it alone. Stopping at the membership desk, I told the sad story. "There's no Costco where we live now. All I want to buy is a fruitcake. One fruitcake."
"I can't help you. Go over to the manager's desk and ask there."
"Please." I begged the manager. "All I want is a fruitcake."
"You must be a member. I'm sorry."
"I was a member for twenty-five years. Please."
"You must be a member."
I left after drooling over the stacks of the delicious cakes neatly placed at the front door. I should have grabbed one and ran tossing a twenty dollar bill behind me.
Next stop was at an old neighbor's house. "Can you take us to Costco for some fruitcake?"
"Do you think there's a reason they don't have fruitcake? It's disgusting. No one wants it."
"Ah. Not true. They have loads of it at Costco so someone must be buying it."
"Buying it, yes. Eating it, no. The landfills are full of old but still edible fruitcake." She handed over her membership card.
I raced back to the store risking life and limb in the day before Thanksgiving madness. A driving rainstorm added to the chaos. After being clipped by a renegade shopping cart, I grabbed the elusive dessert and prayed the cashier wouldn't check the picture on the back of the my friend's card. After a few nervous moments I paid for my item and ran back to the car holding the cake tightly in my arms.
Friday, we drove the 140 miles back home, unloaded the car, emptied the suitcase and flopped down on the couch. Richard and I turned and looked at each other.
"Let's have some fruitcake," we said in unison.
Mmmmm it was good!