Joss Whedon owns "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and related characters; Brian Fuller owns "Pushing Daisies" and related characters; I own nothing.~*~*~One day, not so long ago, a single slice of pie saved a man from a terrible fate. Now, how might that happen? What was so special about this slice of pie that allowed this man to escape the vengeance of a jilted demon? The facts are these:
Men, Anya Jenkins decided, should be locked up and only used for sex. It was the only logical answer to so many of the problems that women had to deal with--betrayal, broken hearts, the lack of money because the men hogged it all. Really, it was the perfect solution. Of course, it would mean she wouldn’t have as many people to release her wrath upon, but then she could use her free time for something productive, like expanding her base for the Magic Box.
These thoughts were running through her had as she sat down in an out of the way booth in a restaurant known as the Pie Hole. Well known for it’s mouth-watering inducing pies, Anya was here for another purpose.
“Welcome to the Pie Hole,” a cheery blond greeted Anya, notepad in hand. “Can I get you anything?” The name tag on her bright green dress allowed Anya to know that her name was “Olive.”
“Coffee, please,” Anya answered. “And a slice of pie.” Anya normally didn’t enjoy the taste of pie, but just from looking at Olive the waitress, she could see the potential for a particularly juicy wish. Anya was a professional, and she had honed the art of finding potential targets in her first century of being a vengeance demon.
“Any kind of pie?” Olive asked, her pencil poised over the paper. Anya gave Olive what she hoped was a friendly smile.
“I’ll trust your judgment over what’s good,” she replied. “I mean, if you work here, you should be able to steer me in the right direction if you desire to earn more of my money as your tip.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Olive muttered under her breath, writing something down on her notepad. “I’ll be right out with your surprise pie.” She walked away, Anya’s eyes following her progress. In the kitchen, she spied the source of poor Olive’s problems--the piemaker Ned. He looked up from the pie he was working on to smile at Olive before turning his attention back to his work. Yes, she could think of several particularly nasty things she could do to him for stringing poor Olive along, if only she could find a way to get Olive to make a wish to her.
“Here you go,” Olive’s voice interrupted Anya’s train of thought. “One strawberry-lime pie and your cup of coffee. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Not at this time, but I’ll be sure to let you know if I require any assistance,” Anya answered, eyeing the piece of pie before her. A bright green slice of lime lay upon a glistening mountain of bright red strawberries, nestled in a perfect golden crust. Anya breathed in, her mouth involuntarily watering at the delectable smell. Carefully cutting off the tip of the slice, Anya delicately placed it in her mouth. She chewed slowly, taking the time to fully appreciate the sweetness of the strawberries and the tartness of the lime. Closing her eyes, she felt the flavors overwhelm her senses.
“This is like an orgasm in my mouth,” she declared, causing Olive, who was walking past to stumble slightly.
“Excuse me?” the confused waitress asked Anya.
“This pie,” Anya explained, gesturing with her fork. “I’m getting equal pleasure from eating this pie as I do from an orgasm. I never would have believed that this much flavor could be packed into one relatively insignificant piece of food.”
“Well... thanks,” Olive replied after a momentary paused. “I’ll be sure to let Ned know.” She walked back towards the center island, a puzzled look on her face. Anya ignored her, going back to her little slice of flavor heaven. This pie was making her the happiest she had been in a long time. She made up her mind right then that she wouldn’t actively court Olive the waitress for her wish. There was no way in good conscience that she could curse somebody who created the perfect portable orgasm. Even if it was a man.