Pie Eaters, Unite!
        

by Patty Eggertsson

 
Yesterday as I was out and about, I developed an overwhelming urge for a piece (or three) of blueberry pie. It occurred to me that in a country that has more support groups than Imelda Marcos has shoes, there must be one for someone like myself, an obsessive-compulsive pie eater. I would not consider this a problem if I were a tiny waif-like creature, but in the words of my friend Barbara (from the Bronx), I am no "feathuh".
I did extensive research on support groups on the World Wide Web. (Well, not that extensiveÖ Okay, I went to the Jeopardy web site instead of checking out info on support groups, but I INTENDED to do it. If it makes you feel any better, I only ended up with $200, which was really embarrassing since my opponent was a third grader from the Quad Cities). But I digress.
Taking a page from Alcoholics Anonymous (whose followers call themselves Friends of Bill W.), I am forming my own support group to help other pie lovers like me fight off these cravings. We shall call ourselves Friends of Mother B. Now every self-respecting pie lover will surely recognize this as a reference to Mother Butler, a kindly grandmother who bakes thousands of delicious pies every day for Dennyís restaurants in the cramped little kitchen of her mobile home in Yeehaw Junction, Florida. (I would have known this even if I didnít have a door-to-door Yahoo map to her house. No, I am NOT stalking her!) Our group shall heretofore be known as M.B.A. Listed below are the Twelve Steps that shall be followed to keep us on the straight and narrow path of pie temperance.

 1. Put Down the Fork.

         2. Put Down the Fork.
         3. Put DOWN the fork!
         4. I SAID, Put Down the Fork!
         5. Put Down the Fork And Nobody Gets Hurt.
         6. Get Your Grubby Paws Off that Dang Fork!
         7. For the Grace of God, Put Down the Fork!
         8. Do I have to Get the Jaws of Life?!
         9. I am REALLY Getting Ticked Off Here!

      10. Donít Make Me Call Your Mother!

      11. I Have A Stun Gun, and I Am Not Afraid to Use It!

    1. 12. Okay, But No Whipped Cream on It!

      1. I realize this Tough Love approach may offend some, but please trust the spirit in which it was intended. This is important work, and we are pioneers in this field. We are fighting literally generations of pie-eating genes that may have mutated into some sort of out-of-control pie chromosome. The cycle began over 200 years ago, when our forefathers signed the Declaration of Independence, ensuring every personís right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. If that doesnít say pie, I donít know what does!

I myself will be fighting this insidious war in the trenches. Thatís right, I am going to the Front. My mission will take me to the very kitchen where the enemy lies in wait: Dennyís. I will begin with the French Silk pie, as I sense there may be something lurking under all that chocolate mousse. If I am not back by Tuesday, print my picture on a milk carton (but not my weight, thank you very much), and hope for the best. To paraphrase another brave American's famous words:
"Remember the A La Mode!"
© Copyright, Patricia Eggertsson, 1999. All rights reserved worldwide.

 

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