When Darrell woke up that Friday morning he had no idea how incredible his day was going to be. All he could do was drag up out of bed, take a shower, shave and get dressed. After making his bed he packed himself a lunch, walked out into the yard, grabbed the morning paper and then got in his car. Traffic was light, even for a Friday, so he got into work and parked in one of the closest parking spaces.
After entering the building he went to the elevators, which, immediately after he pushed the up button, dinged loudly and opened. He stepped inside and before anyone else walked into the elevator lobby, he pressed twelve and the doors closed. "Ah," he thought, "an express ride to the top." It was so much nicer than the herky-jerky stop and go rides he usually experienced on the elevator, stopping at nearly every floor.
He started up his computer and while it was booting up, he decided to head for the kitchen area and mix up some oatmeal for breakfast. Opening his box of instant oatmeal, he grabbed a packet and carried it to the kitchen where he would grab a styrofoam cup, fill it with the contents of the packet and get some hot water from the coffee machine. Just as he was about to open his oatmeal packet he saw it. At first he couldn't believe his eyes, but after rubbing them with his fists he looked again and there, in the vending machine was an apple pie.
Now in the ten years Darrell had worked at the company, the vending machine had provided a wide variety of wholesome snacks including trail mix, granola bars, and an occasionally almond joy bar, but in all those years it offered apple pie maybe twice. Suddenly, on the first Friday in August, Darrell looked at a single apple pie tucked into its slot in the vending machine.
He could feel his hands trembling as he reached into his pocket and pulled out one, two and then a third quarter. Carefully sliding them into the machine, he reached over and, holding his breath, pressed the numbers one, three and four. Feeling a frightening sensation roll though his body, he wondered what he might do if the machine didn't work, or even worse, if the pie got caught on something to tantalizingly dangle in front of him, but the machine worked and in just a moment he heard the pie hit the bottom of the vending machine.
Slipping his hand into the opening, he pulled out the pie, squeezed it slightly to confirm the fall had not shattered the firm but somehow still soft outer shell. Yes, the pie was completely intact. Holding the pie he turned and suddenly faced Katrina.
She didn't speak, but he watched her lips move silently saying, "The last apple pie."
Darrell smiled meekly and tried to move around the large woman. As he moved he noticed her eyes were transfixed on the apple pie. Stopping, he held it up and then moved it quickly to one side. Her head followed every move.
Slipping between Katrina and the vending machine, Darrell moved to the other side of the kitchen, but she slowly followed him, drooling slightly. She was focused on the apple pie and nothing else. He thought for a moment, and then had an idea.