At large and delicious
July 9, 2007
I bought a pie a couple months ago. Cherry. I’m not really a dessert guy, but this particular pie spoke to me…for whatever reason.  “AJ” the pie said “you could use a little pie. What say you bring me home.” So I bought it with every intention of eating it that night… two months hence the pie still sits atop my fridge.
So far as I can tell it’s remained remarkably preserved. Whatever fruity animus allowed it to reach me in the first place has somehow staved off mold and desiccation. The only visible sign of disrepair is a narrow crack bisecting its two halves (caused, I assume, by the release of disappointment over my failure to consume it in a timely fashion). I have no concrete grounds under which I would be justified in casting a dessert down the garbage shoot into Pieblivion. Yet I am not hungry, so the pie it waits…judging me always.
It didn’t say this verbally, of course. The exchange was largely implied by its piely demeanor and the context supplied by previous dealings with baked goods.
 The pie is contained within a decorative Farmers Market box with a clear plastic top. Were I to open the box for a better look (with no real intention of consumption) I would be violating all tenets of Pie/Purchaser covenant.
 I take a perverse satisfaction at introducing words like this into my spell checker. The system’s all like:
MS Word: That ain’t a word chief
And AJ’s (all like): It is now suckah. (hits add to dictionary)
Then MS Word’s (like): Nigga, that was cold blooded.