Apple Pie

Entering the gloomy kitchen, I look around for something to eat. The goal I have is to exit the dull uninviting room as quickly as is humanly possible. Oh but wait, what is that scrumptious smell evaporating from the filthy span you could hardly see to be an oven? The scent is far too overwhelming for words on a page. As this piece of work bakes in this dark kitchen, the room seems to become very bright and cheerful, inviting me to stay and make sure no evil villain comes to steal this aromatic obsession I have come to discover. I start to hear stealthy footsteps coming in. Could this be the wondrous creator of this strange yet captivating piece of food, or a terrifying criminal entering this homey kitchen to fight a duel over my pie? Who could it be? Who could it be? Only time will tell, should I run at them or sing at the top of my voice a song of someone starving finding their favourite food sitting calling their name? Wait! I hear panting, and who should walk around the corner but my cocker spaniel with long floppy ears. Then a terrible racket enters my ears, bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! It is time to take it out of the oven, but should I do it or wait until the cook comes. Stomp, Stomp, Stomp, is the new sound that reaches my ears. Is this cook going to cut into this work of art and give me a large portion? The stunning lady comes running in; she has obviously spent more time on herself than the kitchen. “It’s ready! It’s ready!” is the sweet song I hear coming from her lips, then she notices me standing there hypnotized by the apple pie. With a sour expression she glares and states “Oh I suppose you want a piece?” All I can do is nod, “Well this is for a party I am heading to, there is defiantly not enough for you to have even the slimmest segment.” My jaw drops about 200 feet, my face shows of major concern, my eyes notice the dimness of the slimed out kitchen yet again. I doubt ever being able to enjoy any other kind of food. Tears of anger and tears of pain over the loss of a good friend start rolling down my oven burnt face. “All this anticipation for this glorious meal, simply for nothing, and all you care about is the party you’re going to,” were the angry words I spat out at her. “Oh but remember your allergic to pumpkins, and you get a rash with blotches and spots when you eat them,” was her quick and somewhat comforting response. Never the less I cried out “Pumpkin!” With that I forced myself to look in the fridge and what would I find in there but a delicious piece of apple pie all for me! That was an incredibly eventful day. What is a better way to finish it off but with a mouth-watering piece of apple pie?