My shovel bites into the frozen, stony soil again. I lift the handle and toss a scoop of dirt over my shoulder onto the immense pile building along the edge of the hole. I pause to wipe sweat from my brow and survey my work. I sigh as I realize that in my excitement to dig deep and fast, I created a crater so deep I will have to climb out and might need a step stool, which is located somewhere outside of the hole. That realization prompts another. Why on earth I am I digging a ginormous hole in the ground anyway? It is Christmas Eve, I should be drinking hot cocoa and binging cheesy holiday movies.
I scratch my head, shuddering when I realize I no longer remember what prompted me to begin making this avenue to China. I lift the shovel up over the edge of the hole and take a deep breath. Luckily, my first attempt to lift myself out of the hole results in my clambering awkwardly back to high ground. The muscles of my upper arms ache from even that much extra effort. I roll over on my back, staring up at the sky as I heave deep breaths into my lungs. As I finally feel fortified enough to move, snowflakes dance down on me from the sky.
Distracted, I linger a bit before pushing myself up into the snow globe world. On my feet again, I look down into the depths of my new backyard hazard. I could easily bury my most annoying neighbor in there and not need to worry about them being unearthed by their own dog. But I know that wasn’t what the hole was for. As I ponder how I ended up here, the delicious smell of cinnamon mingling with sugar and butter wafts over me. I turn to face a plump woman with grey at her temples and dark chocolate eyes. She wears a somber brown dress underneath a flowing apron with “Me, Oh My, Pie” embroidered on it. A wave of steam wafts off the pie pictured beneath the words. She has a sturdy square bag in one hand also seems to be wearing a backpack.
“Done yet, darling?” She smiles sweetly at me.
“Done with…?”
“The hole for…” She looks down at my feet. “Oh yes. That should be more than big enough even for that fat man.”
My eyes widen in horror. How did I get roped into covering up a murder? She smiles and pats my arm.
“Here, honey. Have a piece of pie.” She produces a generous slice of pumpkin pie avalanched under an avalanche of whipped cream from her bag.
I know I should be suspicious of strange women bearing pie, but somehow I find myself reaching for the plate and fork. Then bite after glorious bite of perfectly spiced pumpkin confection slides over my grateful tastebuds. As the last forkful disappears, a sweet, familiar jingling turns my eyes skyward. I swallow that last bite just in time because my jaw drops to my sternum.
The shadow of a sleigh pulled by flying reindeer cuts across the moon. A large figure waves from high atop a giant bag of presents as if he knows I am down here. I wave back.
“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 tiny reindeer,” the pie lady counts, “And one big fat toy man, who can’t wait his turn.”
“Huh?” I forget to wave and my arm falls at my side.
As I drop my hand, the pie woman grabs it in her own, which is warm and soft. “Come along, dear, I need your help.”
“Uh-huh.” I reply, sluggish from pie.
I follow in her wake as she seems to borrow speed from cheetahs. If I weren’t so pied up, I probably would have noticed that I must also be running at superhuman speeds. When we finally stop, a two-story house looms above us with lights around every window and dangling from the eaves.
“Wow. That’s so realistic.” I mumble as my eyes light on Santa and his reindeer upon the roof.
The pie lady snorts. “Should be. We finally caught up to the big man.”
I grunt in confusion and concern as she wraps her arms around me and fumbles with what appears to be a giant can of whipped cream on her back. We shoot up into the air, leaving a trail of creamy deliciousness in our wake. I just manage to land on the edge of the roof where my not so sweet friend pushes me forward toward the sled team of reindeer. They eye me calmly except for Rudolph whose nose seems to glow with alarm as we step closer.
“Don’t worry boys and girls. I brought you some carrot cake.”
I watch in wonder as more concoctions come out of her bag, “Are you related to Mary Poppins?”
She snorts as she offers tiny bites of carrot cake to each reindeer. “She’s got nothing on me. I don’t limit myself to a teaspoon of anything.”
As Rudolph tentatively accepts her offering, footsteps approach from the chimney. “Ho ho ho. Good evening ladies. Shouldn’t you be asleep, awaiting my arrival?”
My tongue ties itself in knots as I turn to face the very real, extremely jolly Santa Claus. The pie lady doesn’t seem as affected as me.
She leans in to whisper in my ear and I find myself repeating her words as tears flow down my cheeks, “Oh, Santa, you have to help me or Christmas will be ruined.”
His blue eyes lose a little of their twinkle as he leans toward me, placing a concerned hand on my shoulder, “What has happened, Bella, and how can I help?”
“Follow me back to my place. You have to see it to believe it.”
“Follow you,” he chuckles softly. “We’ll fly there. Won’t we, team?”
The reindeer toss their heads and stamp their feet in agreement. He lifts me gently into the sleigh and then lifts the pie lady, who smiles innocently at him. The desire to let him know this is all a ruse rises up in me, but one look from her has me lowering my eyes and feigning concern about impending doom to my holidays. I guess the feeling isn’t so false when it seems she wants to end Christmas for the whole world.
As Santa guides the sleigh toward my roof, a stomp on my foot prompts me to say, “Can you land at the side of the house, near that hole, Santa?”
“Of course, ho ho ho,” he looks at me out for the corner of his eye and I swear he sees right through me, but he lands right next to the hole anyway.
“You’ve been very busy, Bella, now tell me how I can help you,” he says as he helps me down from sleigh, but his eyes never leave my companion.
As soon as he helps her down, she launches herself at him, “You took my holiday, I’ll take yours.”
He stands firm, laughing merrily as she bounces off his jelly belly without moving him an inch. “Now. Now. Surely, we can discuss this like civilized adults.”
“How civilized is it that I get to hear your greatness sung before my delicious pies even grace a holiday table? How civilized it is it that you get gratitude and no one even acknowledges me and my contribution to the wonderful aromas of Thanksgiving?”
“None of that is my choice.” He tells her. “And I love your pies. Can’t get in the mood for Christmas without a couple of slices of pie with my turkey leg.”
She eyes him suspiciously, pressing her lips together as she searches for her next argument.
“Ho ho ho,” Santa’s eyes twinkle. “Dear Pie Lady, you must come back with me to the North Pole and meet Mrs. Claus. She would love to bake some pies with you. Pie is as beloved for Christmas as for Thanksgiving—well, for all the good little boys and girls.”
“Really?”
“Of course. We believe in second chances. You don’t have to be on the naughty list every year, unless you really need the coal.”
“Oh, Santa,” her little pie heart melts into a puddle of undercooked lemon pudding as she throws her arms around him and cries for joy.
I look down at my feet, pondering what to do with this year’s lump of coal.
“Of course, Pie Lady, you will have to do one things for me,” he looks at her sternly.
She cowers a little and timidly asks, “What’s that?”
“Apologize to Bella here for using your delectable pie’s power to rope her into this.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Bella. I should’t have used your love of pie against you. Can you forgive me?”
“I guess so,” I say.
“Oh good.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out an entire pie.
My mouth waters as the smell of apple and cinnamon pours into the air. “Yum. Thank you.”
“I have something for you, too, Bella.” Santa says.
“Oh?” I hold out my free hand to accept my lump of coal.
Santa’s deep belly laugh causes me to grin, but he doesn’t place anything in my hand. “I see you have the start of a lovely pool, so my elves will finish that up for you and you should be able to enjoy your gift by Memorial Day. Now I have other gifts to deliver. Care to help?” He offers his elbow to the pie lady.
Soon they are perched on the sleigh and headed up and away.
They call out together as they fly away. “Merry Christmas to All and to All a Good Night…And Pie.”
~~~
I can’t help but observe that this particularly story strayed so far from the original prompt that even the prompter wouldn’t recognize it as such. But oh how I love it…and pie…mesmerizing, mind-bending, tongue-tingling pie.
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