Two pies for Donald...

There once was a little bunny named Donald. Donald lived on the outskirts of a small village on the outside of London. There was nothing Donald loved better than to hop into the village and smell the wonderful aroma of pies as they cooled on the baker's racks. "There's nothing I love better than to hop into the village and smell the wonderful aroma of pies as they cool on the baker's racks" Donald said thoughtfully to himself.

This became a daily ritual for Donald, but unfortunately there came another tradition not so wonderful. For whilst Donald stood gazing longingly at the pies, the other naughty little rabbits would gather around and tease him. "You are poor and have to eat government cheese, and other bits of state funded edibles!" they would jeer. This as you might well imagine made Donald very sad. Sad not only because he was indeed very poor, but also because he never got to even taste the delicious smelling pies.

Time carried on, each day much the same as the one before. Donald would hop into the village and enjoy the smells. The other little rabbits would hop over to Donald and enjoy the heckling.

One day, the town crier called out from his high perch, "The butcher is coming, the butcher is coming!" This was the cry that everyone dreaded. This was the proudest moment of the crier's life. "I actually got to yell something other than the time and various bits of gossip!" he thought.

The butcher loomed from above the small rabbit village and with one sweep, swept up the rabbit closest to him. This ironically was the town crier in his high tower, thus making it the best and worst day of his life (in that order).

"Run!" everyone yelled as they tried to hop away. A dark realization came over the crowd as they realized that they had become very fat from eating pies every day and were quite unable to conduct any physical exertion on their own. It's not that they were particularly fond of eating pies every day, but it just seemed so much fun to chomp one down in front of the poor Donald chap. "We can't run because we're very fat due to the overconsumption of sugary pies!" they were heard to yell.

Now the following will say quite alot about you and your opinion of such things. You will be allowed to select the ending you think most appropriate. They are as follows:

Ending number 1: Donald laughed as he saw the butcher sweeping up little fat bunnies to put in his award winning bunny stew. "Ha, ha you evil nare-do-wells. I'd help, but you would never offer me so much as a single piece of delicious pie. Add to that your incessant need to badger me regarding my financial woes!" And with that, Donald hopped off to happier climbes where he started a bakery of his own and had just as much pie as he wanted.

The end.

Ending number 2: Donald heard the din rising from the village and lept to his window. You see, he had not been eating pies all these years and was very capable of leaping to the window or anything else he chose to leap to.

Donald ran into the village and with a mighty leap, jumped up and spun a 180 degree turn. Donald kicked at the butcher's mouth and broke out one of his bicuspids. The tooth lodged soundly in the butcher's airway, causing him to cough and gag as he stumbled away from the rabbit village.

Cheers rose from the villagers as they tried to lift Donald upon their shoulders with little success. "Oh, sod it, we'll just give him a reward for his heroic efforts!" they said. And with that, they led Donald to the one place he frequented every day his entire life. The bakery. Donald selected one boysenberry and one cherry pie which he savored and relished for the rest of his life.

The end

P.S. I know you chose the first ending. Sick-o's.

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The absolutely biggest pumpkin pie ever in the world...

There once was a very fat baker named Smith. Smith was renown for his work in the cupcake arena and for his invention of "cremed" fillings. While it took several years to perfect this whipped delight, Smith endured failure after failure to achieve this, his ultimate success.

Despite his culinary victory, Smith was not satisfied. "There must be something out there that can satisfy my need for greatness." he thought. Smith thought and thought. What was it that would bring him even greater happiness and success than cremed fillings? There must be something.

Day and night, Smith pored over recipes and sweat over his drawing board. This as you might imagine, was a great deal of sweat and made it difficult for his pencil to properly mark the paper. Smith could not sleep at night. He could not eat during the day (this may or may not be somewhat of an exageration).

One day, Smith was enjoying a small and delicious personal sized pie. "This is a small, but delicious personal sized pie. It brings me such happiness and enjoyment." Smith's gaze fixed on the pie as his mind tried to seize upon an elusive thought that wandered about the ether of his mind. "What is it...what is it...what is it?" he whispered to himself.

In a flash of foodular genius, Smith grasped the vague thought. "YES! I shall make the world's largest pie ever concocted in the history of the entire world!" Smith blurted out. Patrons stared, but he did not care. He knew that he was on to the previously unknown meaning of his life. This was going to be the pinnacle of his career.

"It shall be a large pie, in fact the world's largest...but what KIND of pie should I make?" Smith wondered. "Why what better pie than that of a pumpkin pie!"

Smith rented a truck and a medium sized hand cart. He set to work in the basement of his bakery. Night and day, day and night. Trucks came incessently day and night to deliver products necessary to make the pie. An entire field of pumpkins was cleared to suffice Smith's needs. Smith was a wildcat of motion as he sunk deeper and deeper into his work. Hours turned into days...days turned into weeks...weeks turned into three and a half months, which is like some months and some days put together, but there is no real description for that measurement of time.

At last the day came. School children and homeless had gathered in a massive hungry vigil, each hoping for a slice of the world's largest pie. All waited with bated breath, some even had baited breath. This is often a hotly debated topic, but those in the know realize that the later means that they were probably eating sardines, or salmon eggs.

With a whoosh, the large barn sized doors swung wide. With a squish, the onlooker's eyes opened wide with awe. The largest smell of pumpkin pie ever to grace the earth flooded out onto the crowd, practically knocking them over. Children in the first three rows developed several cavities on site, and three diabetics had to be rushed to the hospital.

There behind the cloud of flour, a rotund silhouetted form emerged. Here, standing before them was the master chef. The one who brought forth this behemoth of flavor. The one who would go down in history as the one who did the unthinkably wonderful.

The crowd tensed as Smith called for a hush. They leaned inward as a palpable hush settled all around. "It is..." Smith began, as the onlookers stared at his lips as if to will the next words into existence. "It is...not finished!" Looks of complete confusion crossed the faces of everyone. "What the...?" They muttered simultaneously in disbelief.

"Yeah, I totally forgot to put salt in the mix and it tastes really bad. So go home." And with that, they went home.

The end.

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