Goulden Moments

wholesome blog

This should keep all you happy campers out of trouble for half an hour or so.

The Pie Shop

There were two friends. He was a boy and she was a girl. She was called George and he was called Diane. Oh no! Hang on, that’s not right, what am I thinking. No. He was called George and she was called Diane and they were very good friends. They were also dedicated pie lovers. One day, as is always the case with friends, they met, and it is on that day that our story begins. Actually, no it isn’t, I am getting confused. The story begins about a month before they actually met. This is a simple story so I’m sorry if I’m confusing things; I’m getting a little confused myself.

George had just left the supermarket and was walking down the street back to his flat. It was only a small supermarket; as supermarkets go it wasn’t very super, but it sold most things that he wanted and everything he needed. In his opinion, there was, however, one thing that the supermarket really fell down on and that was pies. It did sell pies, of course, but wasn’t a pie specialist; its selection of pies was limited to the usual chicken & mushroom and steak & kidney, and that was about it. There was enough selection for your average pie eater but George was not your average pie eater. George was a pie lover, it was that simple and the supermarket could not supply his needs.

Now, you might have thought that George would have tried other shops to see if he could find a wider variety of pies if he loved them so much, if he was truly serious about it. Well, George had done that, give the man some credit. He had tried all the shops he knew, he had asked everyone he could. He felt that he could not ask many people because when he asked them if they knew where he could get more pies they tended to give him a strange look, especially when he told them that it was his opinion that there was out there, somewhere, the Ultimate Pie. That one really made people worry that George was without all his marbles. He had done his best, he had looked high and low for the ultimate pie but he had never been able to find it and he had now, for the moment at least, given up his search. After all, he told himself, chicken & mushroom pies were still very nice and the other pies the supermarket sold were very nice too. Perhaps there were no other pies out there, perhaps the chicken & mushroom pie was indeed the pinnacle of the piemans craft. George couldn’t be sure, he only knew that he secretly believed that there were pies out there so wonderful they would make all other types of pie redundant.

Some years before, George had asked his brother what his opinions were on pies. He had asked him several times in fact. At first, his brother had thought he was joking as he didn’t think pies were at all important and didn’t think about them, and when George kept asking he had come to the conclusion that George must have something wrong with him and he advised George to see a doctor. George had been confused by this at first. How, he asked his brother, could the doctor help him to find more pies? You see, that’s how caught up on pies George was. His brother had explained to him that the doctor wouldn’t help him find more pies; the doctor would cure him of his strange pie fixation. George had kept more quiet about the pies after that. He didn’t want to be cured of what his brother called his ‘pie fixation’. He just liked pies a lot and as far as he was concerned there was nothing wrong with that. And good for George. His curious pie penchant may have been very odd but it didn’t do anyone any harm and besides his love of pies he was a perfectly normal person. Relatively normal, anyway.

As we were saying, George was walking down the streets of his town on his way home. At one point he had to cross a road and had to stop to wait for some cars to go past. As he was waiting he saw that there was someone on the other side of the road waiting to cross like him. She was strange looking, like she was very busy thinking about something. While they were waiting she didn’t look at him once, but he looked at her intently – for some strange reason he found her very interesting. When the road was clear of traffic George crossed the road, still looking at her, but she walked past him without seeing him. George got home a few minutes later. He unpacked his shopping, cooked his dinner and then sat down to eat. It was just another day, another chicken and mushroom day.

For a minute or two, as he had stood at the cross-roads waiting for the traffic to pass, it had looked like it was not going to be just another day, but now here he was, as usual, eating a chicken & mushroom pie. It tasted good, as usual and as usual, as he ate it, George’s mind returned to the idea that out there, somewhere, were different pies and indeed, perhaps, somewhere, was the ultimate pie, the pie that would reign supreme over all other pies and therefore all food. Perhaps it was better, for George, that he never found this ultimate pie because then he might never be able to eat chicken & mushroom pies again or all the other pies he liked because they would be boring in comparison to the ultimate pie. But then again, the idea of just one bite from the ultimate pie... George chewed thoughtfully on the last mouthful of his pie. Just one bite! Perhaps he should seek medical help after all.

When George went to bed that night, he did not think of pies, of any sort. He thought of the strange girl he had seen at the crossroads. It’s not that George thought that she was the ultimate pie, it’s just that he thought she was interesting.

Over the next few weeks George was very busy at work and he didn’t much time to think about pies or anything else. Sometimes life gets so busy you don’t have time to think much. But still, at times he thought of the strange girl. He had walked up and down that street hundreds of times and many times since he had seen her. His town wasn’t so very big and he knew most of the faces on that street, but he had never seen her before that day and he had not seen her since. What was she doing at that cross-roads? Where was she going? She had seen to be very occupied with something. George didn’t know why he was thinking about her, she was just a girl and there were plenty of them about. There had just been something about her that had made George think that, if they had the chance, they would be friends. If only he could find her again. Perhaps he could talk to her and see if they could be friends. He supposed he would never see her again.

Luckily for George, as you've probably guessed, he did see her again, although not until about a month later. When he had got up that morning he had thought it was just going to be another chicken & mushroom day, but things turned out otherwise. It was at a different cross-roads this time and he wasn’t waiting for the traffic to pass. He was walking down the street trying to decide whether today was going to be a chicken & mushroom day or a steak & kidney day. He was even seriously considering buying a pork pie. One of those nice Melton Mowbray ones. He turned the corner not concentrating on where he was going and bumbed into her. She was very apologetic, she said that she had not realised where she was going. George would have said the same if he had thought of it, but because he had recognised the girl and was so surprised to have seen her again he didn’t know what to say. Having made her apology the strange looking girl was going on her way. George wanted to stop her somehow but hecouldn’t think of anything to say to her and she began to walk away.

As he watched her go an idea grabbed him. He ran down the street after him and asked her to wait a moment, which she did. He asked her whether she would like to go for a coffee with him. It was a very strange thing thing to say to someone you have just bumped into in the street, which is why George had hesitated in the first place, but she didn’t seem to mind. He said it all very quickly and it is a wonder that she was able to understand everything, but she did. She replied that she didn’t like coffee and didn’t want to sit in a coffee shop but that if he wanted to walk with her down the street then she didn’t mind. That was a relief to George, he didn’t like coffee and in truth didn’t want to go to a coffee shop either; he just hadn’t been able to think of anything else to say. He asked her where she was going and she replied that she didn’t know, she was just walking down the streets exploring, to see what she could find. She knew she was looking for something but she didn’t know what it was. George thought that very strange, but also, he thought with a smile, very interesting, just like she was and he agreed.

And so the two of them walked down the streets together and they began to talk. The first thing they talked about was coffee shops, because after the girl had said that she didn’t much like sitting in coffee shops, George had said the same. You might think that’s not a very interesting conversation, to be honest I agree with you, and it’s certainly not the topic you should begin on when you have met someone for the first time, but that’s where they began. It seemed more natural that way. If they had begun their conversation with the usual things, you know, like what’s your name, where do you live, what do you do and so on, I don’t think their conversation would have gone so well. It would have been a little artificial from the start, they would have been going through the motions of what you do in a conversation and when they had said those ordinary things that you are supposed to say in a conversation they might not have known what to say next. Perhaps it was because they had met in such a strange way; perhaps it was because they were strange themselves. We knew that George was strange; anyone who likes pies as much as George did must be strange. Strange as in not ordinary. George was right in thinking that the girl was strange too. Strange as in not ordinary.

They found that they liked each other very much, and they went on walking down the streets talking about all sorts of things, laughing every now and then. They didn’t know where they were going, they had become so interested in their conversations that they were oblivious to everyone and everything that was happening around them. They just went on, talking about everyone and everything.

Sometimes when you meet a stranger you tell them the most extraordinary secrets about yourself that you would never tell anyone you knew. Most of us do it, perhaps we all do it, every now and again. It seems easier to tell things to people we don’t know because they can’t judge you and what you tell them can’t hurt you. You could tell strangers anything at all, that you did anything that you don’t want to admit but which feels good to tell someone about. George didn’t have any particular secrets he wanted to talk about and neither did the girl but with this conversation they were having, anything would have been possible. In fact, to tell the truth, it didn’t really feel like they were strangers; they seemed to understand each other from the first and it seemed as if they had always known each other for years. It’s strange, you can have a friend for years and never really understand them. You can be married for years and never really connect with them. George and the girl seemed to connect straight away and it was quite obvious that they were going to be very good friends.

As we have said, they felt that they could say anything at all to each other and it wouldn’t matter, and George told the girl about his great love of pies and about how he wished there were more varieties of pies and how he imagined that there was, somewhere, the ultimate pie that would prove once and for all that pies were the best food in the world. He got quite excited by what he was saying, as he always seemed to do; it’s not surprising, it was after all a great passion of his. Unfortunately for George, if he thought that she was goiong to agree with him that pies were the best food in the world he was to be disappointed because she did not. It wasn’t a total disaster from George’s point of view; she did like pies but was bored of chicken & mushroom and steak & kidney pies and didn’t really believe his idea that somewhere there was the ultimate pie. She laughed at him, it was a lovely idea, but it could hardly be true. After all, if such a thing existed then they would be sold everywhere wouldn’t they? People would be chomping on ultimate pie day in day in day out, for breakfast lunch and dinner, if such a thing existed. No, she said, slightly sad because she liked George’s strange ideas about pies, she was afraid he was wrong and the that the best pies you could buy were the ones you could get from the shelves in the supermarket. It was a chicken & mushroom world, and that was the way it was.

They had now been walking for several hours and they were in a part of town that neither of them knew. It was a very old part of town and the streets were narrow and cobbled. They hadn’t even known that this part of town existed. It didn’t matter that they were lost, they would find their way back sooner or later. Then something extraordinary happened. George looked up and saw something. Down an old narrow street he saw a small wooden sign advertising the presence of a shop. In neat, simple letters, the sign read ‘The Pie Shop’. It was very strange that there should be a pie shop here down this out of the way cobbled street and they went to have a look. It was indeed a pie shop and they went inside.

It wasn’t very big inside the shop and there was no-one in it except a grey haired man who stood behind a small counter, wearing a white apron and a white bakers hat. He smiled as they entered, he looked delighted to see them. "Welcome," he said, "to The Pie Shop."

The two friends looked around them. Every inch of space that wasn’t floor or roof or counter or door, that is to say all the walls, were covered with pies. Pies, stacked high on the shelves, right to the ceiling, with handwritten labels on each describing what was in it. George thought of all the types of pie that he had always felt should exist and he found them all on the shelves, sooner or later. There was pie made from every type of meat, every type of vegetable, fruit and everything else anyone might be able to think of.

The girl asked the pieman if he sold anything else other than pies. He replied that he did not, that the only thing that he and Mrs. Pie made and eat was pies. He loved pies, he said, and didn’t want to make anything else. The pieman saw the two friends ogling all the pies that were about them and said that, if they wanted, they could try any of the pies that they liked, to see how delicious they were. This was an offer that George certainly could not refuse; he had been dreaming of a moment like this for years, and the girl was very keen to try the pies too. And so they did. And how were the pies? The pies were the most delicious things the two friends had ever tasted. At first they tried the pies that they knew, the chicken & mushroom, the steak & kidney and so on, and they had never tasted better. After that they tried pies that sounded stranger and stranger: they had wild boar & orange pie, they had carrot & honey pie, they had brocoli, bacon and baked bean pie, they had peach, parsley and purple pie (whatever the heck ‘purple’is when it’s at home) the list goes on and somehow they were all delicious. The girl then came across a Moon Pie. She asked the pieman what was in the moon pie. He looked at her as if she had just said something very silly. "What’s in a Moon Pie?" He exclaimed, "Why, moon of course! Moon goes in Moon Pie, that’s why it’s called Moon Pie. Only a little bit of course, the flavour is very strong."

Where on earth, the friends wanted to know, did he get moon from? Did the pieman have friends at NASA?

"I do have friends at NASA, yes." Replied the pieman. "So I could get some moon from there, couldn’t I?" Well, the friends supposed, he possibly could. So they tried the moon pie, a tiny mouthful, and indeed it was out of this world. It was delicious.

After a while they had tried all the pies they could. If they had tried to taste any more pies they would probably have exploded and they didn’t want that to happen. And there were still so many pies left to try! Nevermind, the two friends said, they would come back the next day and try some more. They were full now and in any case it was getting late and it was time for the shop to close.

George and the girl got out their wallets and asked the pieman how much they owed him. The pieman smiled back at them and told them that he didn’t want any money at all. The two friends protested – they had eaten so much pie there was no way he could let them have it all for free. The pieman simpy chuckled happily. He told them he had got a great deal of pleasure watching them eat his pies and he was only sorry that Mrs Pie wasn’t there to see it. He said that he loved making pies and that the only the only thing he enjoyed more than eating his pies was seeing other people eating them. He said that if they would tell their friends about the wonderful pies that he had made then that would be all the payment that he could ask for and he and Mrs Pie would be happy.

George and the girl could hardly believe their ears and they tried to give the pieman some money but he would take nothing. Eventually, when they turning to leave, George remembered somthing that had somehow slipped his mind the whole time. He turned back to the pieman. He told the pieman that there was one last pie that they would like to try, if that was alright and if Mr Pie had it. George, his lips quivering and his hands shaking, asked if they could try the Ultimate Pie. He told the pieman that he had always believed that the ultimate pie, the pie that tasted better than everything else in the world, existed somewhere and if it did then, it seemed to George, it would exist in this pie shop.

The pieman drew a deep breath and watched the two of them very closely, examining them. Finally he said to them, "Do you know, I thought you would never ask."

"So you do have some?" Asked George, unable to hide his excitement.

"I don’t, no," he replied, "not exactly."

"What do you mean?" asked the girl, who was by now as excited as George. "Surely you either have some or not."

"I’m afraid it’s very difficult to explain," said the pieman, "very difficult indeed. You see, ultimate pie, of the sort you’re after, is very difficult for me, a humble pieman, to get hold of."

"I’m sorry Mr Pie," said George, "but I don’t understand. Isn’t ultimate pie the same for everyone?"

Mr Pie’s face wore a troubled expression as he struggled to explain what it was he was trying to say. He didn’t do a very good job. "Yes and no. It is and it isn’t the same pie."

This did not make any sense to the two friends and they told him so.

"Now, please try to understand," he told them, "Ultimate Pie is a very tricky thing indeed. If Ultimate Pie was a simple thing then everybody would know about it and they would eat it everyday. But they don’t, do they?"

The two friends agreed with the pieman.

"I tell you what," said the pieman, "why don’t I go out the back and see if I can find you some ultimate pie. What do you think?"

George was still confused by the pieman. "Mr Pie," he said, "don’t you know if you have any ultimate pie? If I were you I would know exactly how much ultimate pie I had. After all, it’s the best pie there is."

"I agree," replied the pieman, "and I’m afraid it’s something I just can’t explain." And with that he turned and disappeared through the doorway into the back of the shop.

The two friends had to wait several minutes for the pieman to return and they heard him before they saw him because he was whistling a song to himself. When he reappeared he was carrying a delicate white plate on which lay a single slice of pie that looked, surprisingly, a little burnt, and two forks. He put the plate down on the counter so that the two friends could eat it. "I am very pleased to be able to tell you," said the pieman as he did so, "that we do have some ultimate pie. I wasn’t sure we would have any, but here it is."

The two friends examined the slice of pie and moved to pick up the forks. At the same time they noticed something strange about the slice of pie: it had a little ‘Y’ made out of pastry on the top of it. They asked the pieman what the ‘Y’ meant.

The pieman shook his head and raised his arms. "How should I know? I didn’t make the pie, I only know it’s an ultimate pie."

If he didn’t make the pie, they wanted to know, who did?

"Now that," he said, quite flustered, "is something I just cannot tell you. In any case you’d never believe me. But don’t worry, you’ll understand someday."

The pieman was cryptic about the ultimate pie, they thought, but there wasn’t much they could about it. Forks raised they both paused. This was it it, the ultimate pie and they were about to have a taste. Their forks broke through the pasty of the ultimate pie and they each took a bite...

They chewed slowly, savouring every flavour. The strange thing was the pie didn’t taste of anything extraordinary, it seemed to be a fairly ordinary pie. If they hadn’t been told that it was an ultimate pie they would not have thought that it was anything of the sort. But as they swallowed the first mouthful and went for the second they realised that there was something different about it; it made them feel good. The two friends looked at each other and they smiled. Eating that pie made them feel happy. It was as if someone had put chemicals in the pie to make them happy, although noone had. They simply felt that eating the pie gave them a pleasure they hadn’t got from all the other pies, even though it did not taste of anything particularly special.
When they had finished they looked up at the pieman. He stood with his arms folded and asked what they thought of Ultimate Pie.

"It’s strange," said George, "It doesn’t seem to be all that ultimate to me. I thought ultimate pie would taste different."

The pieman asked him how he thought it would taste and George replied that he didn’t know, he thought it would be different, whereas that had tasted very ordinary.

"Perhaps it did taste quite ordinary, but it was ultimate pie just the same." Replied the Pieman.

"It’s not my fault if it tasted ordinary, I didn’t taste it and I didn’t make it. It’s your fault if it tasted ordinary. Now, we have run out of time – the shop is closing. I am glad you enjoyed the pies, perhaps we will meet again."

George and the girl assured him that they would be back very soon and buy lots of pies and that they would tell all their friends about the shop. They walked down the street together busily talking about all the wonderful things that had happened in the shop. George remembered to check the name of the street, Pie Street, so that they would be able to find it again. Walking back the way they had come they soon knew where they were and even though they had been walking for hours before they had found the pie shop it didn’t take them long to get back to where they had met. When they had got back to the point where they had met George realised that they hadn’t even told each other their names. He was George and she was Diane. They agreed to meet the next day and said goodnight to each other.

Next day the two friends met again. Just like before they walked down the street together, laughing and talking. Unlike the day before, they now knew where they were going: to The Pie Shop. The funny thing was that, try as hard as they could, they couldn’t find it. Even after they had bought a map to find out where it was they couldn’t find it: Pie Street was not listed on the map. It was very strange.

George and Diane knew that The Pie Shop existed somewhere even if it wasn’t on the map and every time they met they went walking together to try and find it, but they never managed to. They did find one street that looked to them exactly the same as Pie Street but it was called Bartholemew Street and there were no pie shops on it.

As the weeks and months went by they got to know the town very well and they got to know each other very well and became good friends. After they had first been to the pie shop they had told all their friends about all the delicious pies they had eaten in the amazing pie shop. At first their friends had been very interested but now that George and Diane couldn’t find it and instead spent all their time walking round the town they became sceptical. People said the sort of things that George’s brother said to him. George’s brother, remember, already thought that George was a little crazy because he was so obsessed with pies and now that George and Diane claimed to have gone to a pie shop that didn’t seem to actually exist he was more sure than ever before that George was in need of help from the men in white coats. After a while many of George’s and Diane’s friends didn’t believe that the pie shop had ever existed. They came to the conclusion that George and Diane had made the whole thing up to play a joke on their friends. Whoever had heard of moon pie or ultimate pie? No, they decided, either George and Diane were mad or they were playing a stupid and not very funny joke.

George and Diane knew what their friends were saying about them but they didn’t care. They knew that they had been to the pie shop, they knew it existed somewhere even if they couldn’t find it. After a while they more or less gave up looking for the pie shop but it didn’t matter too much. They just enjoyed walking and talking together.

While all this was happening George had an idea. Now that they had tried the piemans pies and had had some ultimate pie, (although George and Diane were not convinced that Ultimate Pie was all that ultimate, it had just given them a strange feeling) all the pies that they could buy in the normal supermarket were even more boring than ever. Chicken and mushroom pie just wasn’t good enough any more. George came to a decision: he would begin to make his own pies. That way he could put whatever he wanted in them. The problem was that George didn’t know how to make pies, he had to learn from scratch. At the beginning he made his pies in secret and the first pies he made were disasters. They tasted even worse than the worst pies you can buy in the shops. Some of the pies he made were so disgusting he couldn’t even eat them and if you remember how much George liked pies that means they were very disgusting indeed. But he stuck at it and slowly things began to improve. Eventually he told Diane about his piemaking; he told her everything sooner or later. When he told her George’s pies still weren’t very good and Diane agreed to help him make them better. She knew a lot more about cooking than he did and together, before too long, they were able to make a pie that actually tasted good. It was only a chicken and mushroom pie, they had wanted to start with simple ingredients, but it was their chicken and mushroom pie and somehow that meant that it was not boring at all.

More time passed and The Pie Shop became an increasingly distant memory. George and Diane still went for lots of walks but that was because they enjoyed walking together. They also did lots of other things together, one of which was looking for new things to put in their pies. By now their friends knew that they were always making pies together and were anxious to try some. Because of this George and Diane decided to hold a dinner party for some of their friends. They called it a Pie Party. Their friends happily agreed and a date was set. As the day approached George and Diane made lots of excited preparations, buying all the things they would need, especially all the ingredients for the pie.

The day of the pie party came. They prepared the pie together before their friends came and when they came they popped it in the oven. That is one of the great things about pies; once you have got it ready all you have to do is pop it in the oven and wait, so you can talk to your friends without having to disappear into the kitchen all the time.

George and Diane sat down with their friends while the pie cooked. Because they had now more or less become pie making experts they knew exactly how long it would take to cook the pie. Unfortunately, they were having such a good time with their friends that they left it in the oven for a few minutes too long. They rushed into the kitchen and took the slightly burnt pie out of the oven. As they took the pie from the oven they noticed something very strange: there was a slice of pie missing!

George knew that he had not eaten it, Diane knew that she had not eaten it, so who had? They looked at each other in disbelief as they realised something. When they had made the pie they had written on top of it in pastry the words ‘PIE PARTY’ and the slice that was missing had the ‘Y’ on it and they knew where they had seen a slice of pie with a ‘Y’ on it before: the ultimate pie in the pie shop. It had been exactly the same size and shape as the slice that was now missing; it was the same slice. They stared at one another, baffled.

As there wasn’t much they could do about the missing slice of pie and if they stood staring at each other any longer the pie would get cold, they served up the rest of the pie for their friends. George and Diane would have liked to have spent some time discussing exactly how the slice had got from their oven to The Pie Shop all those weeks ago, but they didn’t have time. Their friends ate the pie, they all thought it was delicious and George and Diane were very pleased to see their friends enjoying the pie they had made so much. They drank a few bottles of wine and everyone had a wonderful evening. When it was all over and time for bed George and Diane agreed that it had been one of the best nights they had ever had.

The next day George and Diane went for a walk as usual but it turned out to be a very unusual walk because they met someone they had not met for a very long time: the pieman. He came up to them and said hello. He said that he had hoped to find them that day and he asked how they were doing. They said they were fine and they asked the same of him, and asked what had happened to his pie shop as it seemed to have disappeared. The pieman replied with a smile that he now had a pie shop somewhere else.

Then the pieman asked, quite casually, if they had enjoyed the ultimate pie they had eaten the night before with their friends. The two friends were surprised at the fact that the pieman knew what they had been doing the night before but they had realised by now that the pieman was able to do some very strange things. They told him that they still did not understand why it was the ultimate pie; it had got a little burned after all.

"Oh yes!" Said the pieman, "I know you burnt it a bit but still it was the ultimate pie. I am Mr Pie the pieman and I know everything about pies."

But why? Why was it an ultimate pie? There had been nothing special about the pie at all. George and Diane begged the pieman to tell them.

The pieman sighed. "If you can’t work it out for yourselves, then I don’t think that there’s really much point in telling you."

The two friends begged the pieman to tell them as they were desperate to know but the pieman was resolute. "No, he said, I am not going to tell you," he replied, "but I will help you to work it out for yourselves by asking you a few questions, if you like." George and Diane thought that was a good idea and they asked him to continue.

"All right then," went on the pieman, "what did you do when you couldn’t find The Pie Shop?" They replied that they had begun to make their own pies.

"And were the pies nicer than the ones you can buy in the supermarket or were they worse?"

"They used to be worse, but now a lot of them are better. We can put whatever we want in our pies, like you did in your shop."

"But doesn’t it take a long time to prepare the pies?"

"It doesn’t take too long."

"But it does take much longer to make a pie than it does to buy a pie, doesn’t it?"

"Yes, that’s true." The two admitted.

"And the pies you buy always taste good, while the ones you make are sometimes bad, right?" Again George and Diane admitted that he was right.

"So why don’t you just buy pies at the supermarket like you used to do and save yourselves a lot of trouble?"

George and Diane had to think about it for a moment. "Well," they explained, "now that we can make our own pies we prefer them to the ones we can buy because we made them ourselves. We prefer to eat something we have made ourselves. There’s a bit of us in it, we created it and that feels good."

"That is exactly my opinion. That’s why I’m a pieman. Now I have another question. Why were you happier last night than usual? I was just another pie, after all."

"Ah," said George, "we had a party with some friends. A Pie Party."

"Why was it so good? I mean, you see your friends often, so why was this occasion so special?"

"Well,"said Diane, "this time we cooked for them and looked after them."

"Wasn’t it hard work and lots of effort?"

"No, not really. All we had to do was cook a bigger pie than usual, it was very simple. It was great, making a pie for our friends and see them really enjoy it, even though it was a bit burnt."

"Aha!" Exclaimed the pieman excitedly. "Aha! Now, you’ve got something there! That’s why I was so pleased when you were eating my pies. To share something with others that you have made is very special. That’s why it was an ultimate pie that you made last night, because you made it with your friends in mind; you made it to share it with your friends and fill their bellies and make them happy. Pies are only pies, but don’t you think that that’s the best sort of pie you can have? One that you have made that other people can enjoy."

George and Diane realised that he was right and that the pie they had made the night before was indeed the ultimate pie.

Something occured to Diane and she asked the pieman a question. "Do you think that the same is true of everything? Not just for pies, or food, but for everything?"

"That is a very good question. I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that, I am just a pieman. But I don’t see why not."

With that he told them that he had to be getting along so he said goodbye, wished them good luck, walked round the corner and disappeared forever. At least they never saw him again. But if you are ever lost in a strange part of town and you see a pie shop you might find him there. Or Mrs Pie. Or Both.

Talkbacks

Cheesm: hmph no longer sunshine

Rich: Pie.

Cheesm: Yes I had the same problem with gobbledisquark of arthington bog.

Kat: I have been to San Fran but only know the airpotr and the greyhound station. greyhound station highly recommended for local colour. I've never actually seen the dukes of hazard but I'll your word for it. I don't suppose you are familiar with International Drinking Rules are you?