We are cupcakeless.
There is not a cupcake in sight.
We are a cupcake wasteland.
This has not prevented Ramona from asking me for cupcakes at least six times this morning.
Cupcakian hope springs eternal.
A promise has now been made, and now, it must be fulfilled either this afternoon or tomorrow.
Soon, there will be a cupcake oasis in the barren desert that, apparently, is my kitchen.