Apple Pie and I

The fruity smell of apple pie traveled to his nose and went down to his stomach, a growl announcing its arrival. Like a hound dog, he followed the aroma and hunted for its source. Where did it come from? He looked at the house at the other end of the street. It used to be empty, but people had recently moved.

The place was special. It had been empty for a long time, and people said it was cursed. Ten years ago, something terrible happened. Something  nobody wanted to talk about. It was a forbidden topic.

Toy, as they loved to call him, wanted a piece of that pie. Badly. Hypnotized by the exquisite aroma, and ignoring all warnings, he strolled towards the house. When he crossed the street, a black cat crossed in front of him in a sign of bad luck. But he wasn't thinking. He continued to walk the pie walk. He knocked. No answer. He knocked again, this time harder. Still no answer. Frustrated, he walked around the house--to the back. The wonderful pie sat by the window, waiting to be eaten. Toy approached it, but Mr. Pie looked back at him in defiance. Toy jumped, grabbed the pie, and stormed back.

When he got home, he gave the pie a long stare. Dinner was ready. He was ready.

“Toy!” she yelled.

He  looked at the floor and didn't answer. He looked up.

She glared at Toy. “Bad dog!”