Missing pie mystery solved, aka someone's left holding the bag

Sometimes a pie is more than it appears. One might say it becomes a slice of life.

Here’s how this went (in my house).

It’s mid-morning. I’m sitting at my desk, typing up a news article on deadline. Suddenly, a certain person clomps in from the garage and plunks a couple of bags of groceries on the kitchen counter.

Then the colorful commentary begins.

“Where’s my pie?” (Cue the stomping feet. Add some huffing and puffing.)

“It’s gone awry.” (Nope. I didn’t really say that. I'm no dough-head. I know better, at least most of the time.)

“Hey! Did you take my pie? Where’s my _________ pie?”

The pie-rade went on, but the tart words that followed don’t bear repeating.

Is frustration ever funny? Maybe.

Here’s the short version. Apparently, the grocery store cashier forgot to pack a particular fruit pie at the checkout counter.  Or maybe someone left a bag behind. (I’m not going there. I can keep the proverbial pie-hole closed in a prudent pinch.)

Either way, an urgent call was placed. The store manager found the errant grocery bag and credited said customer’s charge card.

Mystery solved. Crusty crisis averted ... as easy as … well, you know.

OK, it’s not funny. So why am I still chuckling? Maybe I’m not all-out laughing, but I am wearing a pie-eating grin. And I don’t even like rhubarb pie.

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Not expecting nosy questions and pregnant pauses in the checkout line

 “When are you due?”

I turned to look at the guy standing in the grocery store checkout line next to the one where I was unloading my purchases.

“Phew. He’s not talking to me,” I said to myself. The older man was facing backwards, leaning one elbow on the handle of his shopping cart and talking to a woman behind him. She adjusted her baggy tee shirt with one hand and looked away without answering. Clearly, she was trying to ignore the intrusion.

“The baby,” the man said. “When does your baby come?

Standing right near the seemingly irritated subject of his unprompted inquiry was a tired-looking mom with two little ones at her side. She looked at me and shrugged. I guessed she was trying not to cringe, just like me.

Finally, the cashier took care of the prying man and sent him on his way. The not-pregnant-after-all woman muttered something under her breath. I didn’t quite hear what she said, but the intent was clear. I could swear the cashier nodded.

I glanced at the checkout counter, as the lady unloaded her items: a six-pack of beer, a bag of coffee beans, and a tin of diet shake powder. Something was brewing, but it wasn’t a baby. I’m thinking it was more frustration than gestation.

.Image/s:

Adapted by this user

from public domain art

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