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Addictive Pies.

“Shocking altogether, the cops around here must be deaf and blind, I mean to say that is the seventh in a short period” He stood there and nodded with a suitably concerned look on his face, as the old crone droned on and on. The queue behind her was growing longer by the minute and there were murmurings of discontent that grew louder by the second. He stole a quick sideways glance at the stack of pies, on the countertop, to his left. It was decreasing at a very rapid rate, he looked up again at the growing line of people behind the nattering woman.

At this rate he would have to limit the purchase amount to two pies per patron, even at that, some people would be disappointed. This job was getting more stressful by the day, most evenings he ran out of product, and the anger of those left without was a sight to behold. I mean to say here he was working hard providing a quality product and they end up hurling abuse at him.

He had to physically shove the people out and force the doors shut before slamming the bolt home. Savages the whole lot of them, he had often thought about selling the recipe to one of the big food companies. Take the money and run, but that recipe was in the family for generations. This recipe was from the old country and had been perfected eons before they had come to this land. The people could not get enough of his product but were they to know the main ingredient, he had no doubt they would be horrified. Everyone was addicted to the juicy meat but only he was willing to butcher the carcasses. In the store area, he looked into the big freezer, just three left. Time to shut shop and move again. With only three carcasses left he would never have enough ingredients, and the locals were already bitching about the seven missing children.

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