Sweetie Pie
They stood over him, looking down. They looked at him with curiosity; his color was of a bleached piece of driftwood. The slits of his eyes were delicately made. He opened his eyes and saw the world around him for the first time. He had to blink- one, two, three times until his dewy eyes became accustomed to the bright light of his world. His untrained eyes swirled around sporadically; he didn’t know what to take in first. The world was mostly white.
Here and there was some color, but only muted pastels. He noticed a large window directly in front of him and tried to look and see what was on the other side. This was a difficult task, however, when lying on your back. The ceilings white panels were the color of fresh snow.
“We should leave before it sees us.”
“But he smells like cherries.”
“Oh come on, there are plenty of cherries in the fridge.”
She snapped her fingers and he followed, sulking.
“But we don’t even know his name.”
He could hear the two voices speaking. And then, he saw them. She was of medium height, slender, and the color of ebony. He was taller than her but stout, he was a chalky white. He didn’t know who they were but somewhere inside his simple mind, he knew he belonged with them. He struggled to follow them, flailing his limbs. He pushed himself onto his side and eased his way onto his thin legs.
Once he gained his balance, he stood still for a few moments; then mimicking the way they walked, he started to make slow and steady progress in their direction.
“I don’t even know why we came.”
“Just to say hello.”
“You know what’s going to happen, it isn’t the first one.”
“Well I’m not the first one either.”
“Yah, but at least you have until the 18th.”
The carton frowned and tried to look down at his feet, but was obstructed by his body. They turned the corner around the coffee machine and there, drooling, stood the pie. He was much taller than the hairpin but the same size as the carton. The hairpin spun on her heels and began to walk away; the carton became excited and immediately grabbed the pie’s hand to introduce himself. Consumed with giddiness, the carton wildly shook the pie’s hand. The hairpin only made it a few steps before she heard her name and realized she was trapped.
“Pies are stupid,” she muttered under her breath.
She sighed, and approached the pie, the sweetiepie look of annoyance clear on her face.
The conversation was awkward and mainly one sided. Freshly cooled pastries rarely have the capacity to hold a complete conversation, a fact the hairpin was well aware of.
However, she managed to smile and nod as the carton spoke slowly but excitedly to the pie about his friends in the fridge while the pie just tried to form coherent words. The carton told him about the apple ripening too quickly and how the butter just couldn’t stop gossiping.
After what seemed like five minutes, the hairpin became anxious to get back to her life and leave the pie for what she knew was coming. The carton however, was still just excited about having a new friend outside the fridge. After all, most of the fruit they had met last week had either rotted or faced their fate.
“Well, well, well, we really must be going…uh…whatever your name is.”
She gave a weak smile to the pie, grabbed the carton and tried to pull him away.
“Waaiitt. I was just telling him about the time the bird flew into the window. So tragic.”
The pie stared back blankly in response.
“No. Really. We have to go. Now.”
This time she gave the carton one good shove to start him on his way. The carton looked back over his shoulder and saw the pie once again following them.
“Can’t he come with us? He does smell like cherries.”
The hairpin was about to explain why the pie was baked in the first place but the thunder coming down the stairs made her freeze in place. They both ran behind the toaster for coverage from the thing approaching. The hairpin and the carton both watched the thing walk into the kitchen. It opened up a compartment and withdrew its deadly device.
The pie was swept up with a smile on his face. He had never seen the thing before and he wanted to hear what it had to say about the bird.
“Be brave!”
The carton was too busy sobbing to speak. The pie was placed flat; he watched the light reflect off of whatever it was the thing was placing between his delicate eyes. With minimal effort the thing split his face and a thin layer of red oozed out. The pie, incapable of speech, let out a piercing cry. The hairpin watched stoically and the carton cried into his hands. Again and again, the thing mercilessly mutilated the newborn pie. Eventually, he stopped screaming.
----TRILLIUM---- 