Bye, Bye American Pie

The crime scene:

The evidence was found here. (The empty pie plate.)

The suspects:

(Niki, smug on the left. Elphie, playing innocent on the right. Don't let those Yoda ears fool you.)

The victim:

(Sorry, this is a morgue shot. You know, for matters of taste.)

One of our neighbors bakes a pecan pie for all of their neighbors. Mom brought it over to share with us. In her haste to get her off to the airport in a timely manner, the pie was left unsecured. On the floor, in a bag.

We got home later that evening to find an overturned, empty pie tin. Since Andrew and I had both been sick, we couldn’t smell the pan to figure out it’s former contents. I guessed the pecan pie when I realized that I had two, sugar-coated dogs.

As all neurotic dog owners do, I checked the dog book to make sure that they would be okay. Other than Elphie being more crack-tastic than normal, they would be fine, and I was instructed to check for vomiting and… other unpleasant functions.

While I was doing the obligatory scooping, it was confirmed that the victim was a pecan pie.

Rest in poop, Pecan Pie. We never knew how good you were.

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