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Great Writing - Home > Short S. > A "Merry" can pie.
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| A "Merry" can pie. | |
| By BrianRobertNeal | ||||||
| 04 August 2006 | ||||||
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An odditiy. A Merry-somebody cheeful. Pie used as a Gerund A scruffy looking black open four seater car is weaving an erratic path down a deserted main street somewhere in a town in middle America. In it are two scruffy men, both wearing ill-fitting cheap black suit and bowler hats. One rather incongruously is holding a very large traditional slapstick custard pie. The driver, the larger of the two men is looking consternated and his companion seems to be confused. “Why don’t I do the Driving Ollie? “Because Stanley, you are holding a very large custard Pie.” “Yes but why am I holding a very large custard pie, Ollie? “So Stanley, I can do the driving.” “But why can’t I do the Driving?” “I believe Stanley that I have just told you why. Now where are we? “We’re lost Ollie” The car is now approaching an intersection. “Well Stanley which way should we go” “Ollie I suggest we go Left, straight on or right” “Well Stanley, that only leaves backwards” “We don’t want to go backwards Ollie, cos we’d end up where we started out.” “Stanley we are back where we started out” “Sorry Ollie I should have said backwards.” Ordinarily the larger man would have started hitting the smaller man but not tonight. The two of them, unbeknown to the millions that adored them, were developing a dark side. They had become hit-men and were out on their first job. The Custard Pie was laced with a deadly contact poison that killed within 24 hours. There were no known antidotes for it. Ollie knew this but Stanley didn’t. Stanley also didn’t know that they had become Hit-men because Ollie hadn’t told him. Well he wouldn’t would he, for Stanley was the first and only target. You see Ollie had debts and not having to share with Stanley all the money that was rolling in , might get him off the hook! Stanley thought that they were going to “Pie” a man that they would find in the Nighthawk Bar. Ollie was hoping that Stanley would touch the “custard”. “Ollie” “Yes Stanley” “Why is everybody round here dead? “Dead Stanley?” “Yes, dead Ollie.” “Now you come to mention it Stanley they don’t seem to be very lively” “That’s cos their dead Ollie.” “That would explain it then.” “Yes Ollie but why are they all dead.” “Well perhaps Stanley that’s because we are dead centre of town” They by now had passed the intersection. They saw the light of a roadside coffee house. Its sign read Nighthawks. “That’s it Ollie, Stop the car.” The car stopped and the two men got out. The thin man had a gleam in his eye, he loved pieing people. The stout man merely stood and rolled his tie up towards his chin and then back down towards his belly. There were four people in the bar. All but the Bar Tender were dead and he was on his last legs. The Bar Tender screamed “Keep away, you’ll get the plague, I’m the only one left.” Stanley ignored him and slapped him in the face with the Pie. By some quirk of fate bordering on the miraculous the deadly poison and the toxin produced by the devastating bacillus, cancelled each other out. The Bar Tender recovered in a flash. Unfortunately Ollie and Stanley who had been breathing in the infection suddenly started dying. Nobody thought of the pie as being a possible cure. So they were dead within 5 minutes. The Bar Tender shrugged his shoulders and thought to himself, “Time to close up”. He quickly changed into the snappy evening togs that he kept behind the bar; flannels, sports jacket and straw hat. To create the intellectual image he wore plain lensed framed glasses. As he drove away in Stan and Ollie’s car and headed in the direction of Hollywood; he thought to himself “Harold Lloyd this could be the start of something big.” Sadly the Pie Remedy had to be taken at hourly intervals and one hour later he died at the wheel.
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