Wait for the pie

Ian decided to wait for the pie, against his better judgement. If this was one of his last acts, he at least wanted it to be a polite act. Running away when you were expecting something would just be plain rude. Especially as Martha was an old friend.

He flipped the paper flyer around. There wasn't anything on the other side; just plain white paper. What a waste of paper, Ian thought. How would anyone ever save the environment if they don't print on both sides?

The flyer was flipped again. Then again. And again. Flipping, forever flipping...

"I'm ba-a-ack!" Martha trilled, and Ian noted that she now had a pink-and-blue striped pie and a smoothie. She set the pie and smoothie down before him and took a seat across from him. "Hope you enjoy the pie, hey?"

"Yeah," Ian said, nodding. He looked at the pie. It was pink-and-blue, just like Martha's uniform, and had two small holes punched in the top and a lot of joined holes punched in the bottom. The filling was a mixture of green and brown, and had flecks of white in it, too.

"It's a smiley face," Martha offered. "To cheer you up again."

"Right."

"You going to eat it? Take your time."

Ian gritted his teeth and raised it to his mouth. He was sure the flecks of white were gristle or something disgusting like that. He could smell the pie, now, and it smelled of--

Something hot on his jeans. Ian looked down, and then looked up again. There was a huge hole in the bottom of the pie, and a green, brown and white sloppy mess all over his jeans. He looked to Martha for help, but she was just chuckling.

"Happy pies do make people happy -- 96% of the time!" Martha said, grinning from ear to ear. "How funny for this to happen!"

"I need some serviettes, tissues, anything!" Ian said, staring down at his jeans. How could this have happened so quickly? The mess dripped down onto the floor, creating a greasy puddle. Martha followed his gaze and saw it too. At this she gave a gasp.

"Oh! The floor! We can't have it ruining the floor!" Martha jumped up and ran towards the stripy pink-and-blue counter, scrabbling frantically for serviettes. So she laughed at me wearing my $150 jeans and worried about the floor instead? Ian thought.

Martha rushed back towards Ian, clutched a serviette in her hand. She passed it to him, her pink-and-blue nails scratching him slightly as she did so. Ian tried to wipe the coloured meat off his jeans, but Martha snatched the serviette off him and started to wipe the floor.

"But my jeans!" Ian said, beyond the point of caring about his manners. He was going to die extremely soon, anyway, so why should he?

"They can wait," Martha said from the floor. The pink-and-blue tiles were starting to go green and brown now. "Quick, help me!"

"They're just tiles, Martha," Ian complained. "Leave them! My jeans were $150 and I'm not going to let them stain just like that."

"They won't stain," Martha muttered, but was too concentrated on cleaning to floor to say anything else.

"Why are you so worried about the floor?" Ian said. "It's a floor, get over it. It isn't like people are going to look down at the floor and go; hey, look there's a patch of stained tiles, this is a horrible cafe because of it and I'm going to--"

Martha silenced him with a hand. "This isn't just any floor. If you must know, the tiles are fake and the real thing lying underneath it was a surprise for our 10th anniversary to be unveiled tomorrow. The meat dissolves the fake tiles and I don't want the real thing to be revealed just yet. Happy?"

Ian was speechless. How could he have been so rude? He decided to...

The End

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