I stand in a field of bleached bones, wanting desperately to throw a banana cream pie.
There is no such thing as free pie.
Wanting something – no matter how desperately – isn’t enough. Wanting won’t change a damn thing.
I have to leave the boneyard. I have to go to the store and buy bananas. I have to whip cream into peaks.
I have to make the freaking pie before I can throw it.
There is no such thing as free pie.
Soup can be free, but not pie. You can find soup in communion with others, sometimes. You can gain nourishment in support. Soup can fortify you when bananas are out of stock, keep you from crawling back to the boneyard.
But if you want to throw pies, you have to make them. You, and nobody else.
Maybe one time you thought someone gave you a pie. They didn’t. You were in the splash zone. They threw that pie. Threw it damn good, and you got some in the face. You got a taste of meringue and graham cracker and for just one beautiful moment, it was like the pie was yours. But it wasn’t. It was THEIR pie. They made it. They hurled it into the time stream.
You can eat pie, sure. You can spend your entire life eating nothing but other people’s pies. That’s perfectly acceptable, if that’s what you want. Pies were made to be eaten. Consumed, and appreciated. We certainly don’t make them for nutritional value. That’s what soup is for. But eating pies won’t make you happy. It won’t get you out of the boneyard. If anything, doing nothing but eating pie – chasing the sugar rush – will keep you in the boneyard longer, wondering why that happy feeling just won’t stick.
Eating pie is nothing compared to throwing pie.
First, make the pie.
Apprentice with a piemaker if you don’t know how. If you’ve eaten pie, you know a piemaker. Study their work. Analyze their product. Observe the way they layer their filling, their crust. Take note of their spices. Identify the pie you want to make. Improvise what you don’t know. Who cares if your pie is perfect? You’re making it to be THROWN. Always aim for the best pie you can make – but pies held back for too long become stale and dry.
You want the satisfying splat when it collides with the world.
You want to laugh aloud.
And when someone yells out, “Who threw that?!”
You can scream
ME