Safety Fork, the

I got home from work today, put on some music and read for a while before eating. After supper, I was falling asleep in the chair of nap-doom, at least until my last song by Die Prinzen finished playing. Since I was playing the music on my computer, my last song by Die Prinzen was immediately followed by my first—and only—song by Dinah Shore: “Shoo Fly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy.” Despite the fact—and I should like it to be perfectly clear—that I have neither any idea what is “shoo fly pie,” nor any idea what is “apple pan dowdy,” I was instantly awakened from my near-slumber…and seized by a completely uncontrollable urge to bake a pie.

Perhaps it was karmic retribution for my Halloween costume. It took me three years to finally get around to making my promised animatronic disguise, but this year I attended Seth’s Halloween costume party as The Sims. I sort of avoided telling the other guests how one controls a sim—I mean, would you really want to be commanded by fifteen drunk people? But maybe someone accidentally directed me to “Serve Dessert.”

Whatever the underlying cause, in short order I was back from the grocer with ingredients. I peeled and sliced apples, which activity was immedieately followed by flailing about in an epileptic fit of pastry-making, during which I got flour on pretty much every part of myself mentionable in polite company. (Extraneous gesticulation may or may not have been caused by The Blues Brothers playing in the background).

So anyway, now I have this pie. If you just happen to show up at my door tomorrow, I won’t let you leave until you’ve eaten pie. If you want know where my door is, I’ll be perfectly happy to tell you, because I’m probably rotund enough without eating the whole thing by myself. Also, you know you want it. It’s cooling on my counter right now, and it smells great.