The Blueberry Pie Man
The sign above the small bakery read: The Blueberry Pie Man. Also on the sign was a cartoonish chubby baker with an exaggerated but friendly smile.
The bakery, owned by Patrick Sullivan, sat on the corner of Elm and Uke and was blessed with a steady flow of customers. It was confirmed by all that Pat Sullivan made the best damn pies in the county. With the 4th of July fair just around the corner another blue ribbon was just waiting to be had. The huge bellied baker smiled at the thought. Winning the blue ribbon was a big deal. At least in the small town of Flat Rock.
Some short miles away the fairgrounds were busy with booths and tents being set up next to and around the carnival rides. The mayor walked along the outskirts of the fair checking off what was finished and what still needed to be done. He made a mental note to contact the high schools band instructor to make sure his choice of music was on the agenda.
And at this same moment Cam Stewart watched a baseball game while thinking how he would place his insurance companies brochures on the pie contest table that he once again was in charge of. Of course the brochures would be placed in a tactful manner and his secretary would be these to place the brochures in the hands of those not smart enough to grab one on their own. It would be a good day.
Late evening on the 3rd Pat Sullivan entered the back room of his bakery where all his pie making magic took place. All stainless steel counters, ovens and refrigerators. Pie racks were state of the art, also easy to maintain stainless steel and sliding glass doors. Barrels of flour stood ready to use under the long counter.
Sullivan always took a deep breath when entering his private realm and marveled at his accomplishment of the perfect baking set up. Walking to the sink to wash his hands he noticed his rotund figure on the large refrigerators surface. He only smiled.
At this same time just blocks away the elderly Miss Janey was busy in her small and simple kitchen baking her famous sweet apple pies. The room smelled of cinnamon and and browning dough. It had been years since she had won the sought after blue ribbon. It seemed that Sullivans pies just could not be beaten. Sighing, Miss Janey carried on.
Back in the back room of the Blueberry Pie Man Sullivan had preheated his ovens, flowered the counters and rolled out the dough. The room was not as aromatic as Miss Janey’s but would soon roll out prize winning pies.
Taking off his apron and shirts he then felt his belly while reaching for a well sharpened knife that hung on a suspended rack above him. An empty barrel stood closely by.
With the knife firmly gripped the baker made a long and deep horizontal cut across his
midsection. He showed no pain or shock as large amounts of blue goo poured from the wound and splashing into the waiting barrel. A surprisingly small amount of blood mixed into this spilling slosh.
Once the stream of Sullivans secret ingredient stopped he took a roll of tape and bound his cut making note to make a more permanent fix after the fair. Putting his shirts and apron back on he worked through the night baking pies.
At high noon on the 4th all the pies of each entrant were laid out and a crowd quickly formed. In that crowd was of course Miss Janey. She held her hands in a praying pose occasionally wringing them.
The mayor, official taster, began taking small forkfuls from each pie sampling each in turn. After fifteen minutes he smiled and proclaimed number six was the grand prize winner. This was of course Sullivans blueberry pies. Miss Janey walked away slowly shaking her head.
As Sullivan accepted the blue ribbon to a great round of applause Cam Steward, noticing the trimmer form of Sullivan leaned over the table and good naturedly asked the winning baker if he had been dieting. The baker just smiled.
END
