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A slice of heaven

November 18th, 2018 Leave a comment Go to comments

Honestly? It’s mediocre. Imagine chewing on a cloud. I know Aunt Emily prides herself on this one, but it just tastes like stale humidity to me. To even call it “heaven a la mode” is an insult to all the other pies in the Thanksgiving spread, particularly Mary’s banana cream. The fluff alone is more angelic than anything Emily’s oven has ever farted out.

But her husband died this summer, so we can’t be honest about our assessment. Last year the rest of the committee decided we’d reject her entry for the church potluck every year going forward by invoking Revelation 21. This was a very popular decision amongst our congregation, but one made three weeks before Ned suddenly died, a circumstance that made moving forward with purging Aunt Emily’s pie from the dessert table seem heartless.

Yet we’re all worse off for it. Some teen just told me that eating it was sort of like vaping. Mrs. Selby passed out just gazing upon the dish. The antics that stem from Emily’s contribution derail our fundraiser every year, but she tithes better than anyone in the congregation. What can you do?

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