A piece of cake.

My colleague offered me cake yesterday. "What kind of cake," I asked, thinking of that scene in the West Wing when Donna offers Sam some cake, trying to take his mind off of election results that would make him the Democratic nominee in a race he had no intention of competing in. Donna's answer is, "It's cake." Here's how my exchange went. 

Colleague: Miss Palma, would you like some cake?

Me:  What kind of cake? 

Colleague: Cake I found on the street.

Me: That's the best kind of cake. 

This is why Aaron Sorkin is Aaron Sorkin, and I am not.