You collect your pie from the foxy assistant and march out of the Pie Shop, laughing with glee at your tremendous purchase. A real apple pie, just as you asked for it. Unfortunately, a mob of right-wing extremists carrying knuckle-dusters were also looking forward to a delicious fruity offering, the last of which you are now bearing lustily down the street. They run after you shouting fascist slogans and threatening to kill you. One pulls out a large gun. You turn round to see what all the fuss is about and inadvertantly slip down a manhole, thus breaking both legs. You stay trapped down this hole for a week, with only the pie for company, after which you die of thirst.
Back to the Pie Shop
Cheese my cake, Monsieur
© 1997 pjl27@hermes.cam.ac.uk
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