On Pie

I seriously tried "Pie," "meringue pie" and God help me even "cream pie" before I remember that every hilarious pie is banana cream and then BAM! there was this picture of the perfect pie. (I still would have liked to try the lemon meringue though.)



So I just watched a dude get hit in the face with a cream pie for no reason on television and I'm actually surprised at how badly I feel this voice inside me shouting, "Pie the fuck out of some dude."

"Don't think about who," he whispers, "Don't think about the consequences. Just go out and buy a pie. It's cool. It'll sit. Just take it with you and when you hear some telling a story that's really uninteresting, just do it. It's okay. They won't know what to do. Just fucking pie a bitch in the face and run. Yeah, that's right, you don't even stick around to see what happens. This isn't about that. This is about you and your desperate need to plant a pie in a man's face with all the might residing in you."

Yeah, I don't think I'm going to listen to that voice, but he's been there for such a long time I hadn't even noticed. One day soon I will simple wake up to the voice like it were my own, and every thought will culminate in the burning question 'How can I pie someone in the face with this?'

A few days later I'll probably cruise by a bakery just to look.

Then one day after I'll buy a cupcake. Maybe I'll huck it at a deer near the edge of the woods from my car and speed off.

Then I'll begin plotting the perfect pie. Custard. With just a hint of vanilla to set off the flavors of the filling and the flaky crust. I will bake for days, weeks, finding the perfect touch at every turn.

After that it's only a matter of finding the perfect prey. She will be weak at first. I will plan it meticulously. She will go unnoticed when she goes to the laundromat twice in one week.

I will escalate. There will be more victims. Each will call out to me for different reasons. Sometime I will be called without warning. I will be forced to improvise. A wedding cake with witnesses, yodels at a picnic in the park, a fatty with HoHos. However it goes I will be soppy. Evidence may be left.

Then it is only a matter of time before they find me. I will have to disappear. Curb my lust for pies. Perhaps I will build a soundproof bunker in my basement, stainless steal decor belying the most sophisticated cookware known to man.

I DON'T WANT TO DO IT VOICE NO NOT HER OKAY FINE HER BUT ONLY COCONUT OKAY FINE LEMON MERINGUE CRAP OKAY YOU ARE THE WORST MURDEROUS VOICE EVER.