Kendra Littleton bought a peach pie on the way home from work today.
This was no ordinary peach pie, my friend. This peach pie was bought at an actual bakery. The hometown kind, where everything is made fresh by hand on a daily basis; unlike those big faceless factories, where ingredients get mushed together by heartless machines, are flash frozen, and then shipped to a store to sit in all of its processed glory. Maybe that’s what give it its magical powers. You see, before the day was finished, Kendra’s peach pie had managed to save four lives.
When Kendra awoke this morning, it never occurred to her that a pie could have the ability to save lives. She just thought that it would make a nice addition to the chicken dinner she was planning to roast for dinner.
The first life her 8-inch plate of pastry perfection saved was that of the driver who blocked Kendra’s view while she was driving to work. If the law where you live states that a motorist is allowed to turn right on a red light providing that it is safe to do so, do not then pull up beside them in the left lane and stop half way through the pedestrian crossing. It makes it impossible for the driver in the right lane to see whether or not there is traffic approaching from the left.
“God, how I want to kill people who do that,” Kendra said to herself. “But if I do, then I’ll be arrested and I won’t get to buy a yummy peach pie on my way home. You get to live and take another breath Mr. Inconsiderate Driver! Thank your lucky peach pies for that!”
The second life her magical disc of wheat flour, lard, water, salt, peaches, sugar, modified corn starch and egg bath saved was Kendra’s most difficult client. Five design approvals by them had then changed to five rejections, but only after everything had gone into production. It was the sixth last minute change that made Kendra reconsider her earlier stance on first degree murder. Luckily for her client, Kendra chose a high fat, high carb, how calorie, sugary bingefest instead.
The third life this stellar symphony of seasonal fruit rescued was that of the apartment dwellers one floor up from Kendra. Hoping for a quiet night, Kendra instead returned home to the cacophonous screams of Mr. and Mrs. My-Mother-Was-Right-I-Never-Should-Have-Married-You Davidson. Kendra was more than willing to hurry up the ‘Until death do us part’ portion of the Davidson’s volatile union, but there was a pie to savour. Divorce court will now be seeing one more couple it otherwise might not have.
The fourth, and perhaps most important, life that this sweet and baked to golden brown perfection superhero saved was Kendra’s. At thirty years of age, Kendra was old enough to understand that no one ever gets to truly live happily ever after, which means that today will not be the last of bad days for her. She had two options: kill herself right then and there, or self-medicate with a slice of pie large enough to satisfy even a lumberjack who had just spent the last twelve hours felling trees the old fashioned way: with an axe. Kendra went the latter route, making sure to save enough pie for tomorrow’s breakfast.
In her mind, each slice pretty much contains at least one thing from the four food groups, or close enough anyway. And some days, ‘close enough’ is the best you can do.