The Pieman

Everybody's gotta have a childhood at least once in their lives. Hell, most of 'em usually end up thar twice. I hear some folks talk about this guy or that gal what "Never got to be a child." All bullshit, of course. Way I see it, unless ye're stillborn, ya got t' be a kid, end of discussion. Sure, ya 1st t' 13th years of living may have sucked donkey dick, but it were still, by all technicalities, a childhood. 'Course, childhood usually has its start in infancy, loaded diapers an' teethin' on shit ya really shouldn't, b'fore ya more on to the preschool settin' which is when ya start really hearin' fairy tales an' nursery rhymes fer the first time.

Where'm I goin' with this? Well, if ya know yer Nursery Stories, ya'll know that none of 'em're just made up on the spot. All the verses 'n Aesops that're actually worth jack shit, came from real-world happenins. Jack 'n Jill, Tom Thumb, Pied Piper, London Bridge, all those good'ns. O' course, if ye happen to be a real connoisseur of the old Rhymes, I.E, someone what sees the true value behind all the cutesy, saccharine sweet metaphorical images, ya'll probably, at some point in yer life, have caught wind of this'n.

Simple Simon met a pieman going to the fair.

Said Simple Simon to the pieman,

"Let me taste your ware."

Said the pieman unto Simon,

"Show me first your penny!"

Said Simple Simon to the pieman,

"Indeed, I have not any."

Yup. Ol' Simple Simon, the dumbass who wanted a pastry but expected to get it fer nothin'. I bet ya've heard that'n a thousand times an' never thought once about where the hell it came from. Well, keep ye eyes glued to these here words of mine, cus ye're 'bout to get an education on the 100%, true as taxes, bonified story of Simon an' the Pieman. Course, I think it's fair to warn ya. What you're gonna hear from me is fully guaranteed to put an end to whatever Pollyanna worldview ya had about pies or baked goods in general. Once you read this, there ain't no going back. Ever. So, let's get the important shit outta the way. The Pie Man? That son of a bitch was...is me.

Now, I'm what ya might call the penultimate piece in what's commonly referred to in the turnover industry as ''The Pie Chain.'' The butcher makes the fillin', the bakers put it in Shortcrust or puff, I sell 'em an' customers eat 'em. Simon was that last link in the chain. He was, at th' time, a not-so-bright an' far-from-attractive lad o' 19 who, if I'll be pardoned fer soundin' ignorant, seemed t' have as much flab as he did melanin 'n as much restraint as he did brain cells. Dark brown skin like dry coffee, pudgy cheeks, arms an' legs an' all bow ties, flat caps, suspenders. tight, jean pants, big-toed boots an' cotton shirts 'n socks, all topped off with the half-lensed reading specs he wore at all times in a feeble effort t' make hisself look wise n' educated. A dress sense fittin' his era.

T' make m'self clear fer all o' you wonderin', the kid grew up in a town in Defiance County, Ohio sometime during the turn of the last century. Hard to tell ya when exactly. 1907 maybe? 1908 at the latest. Years tend to blend when you've lived as long as I have, ya see an' I ain't fixing' t' tell ye which town it is exactly. (In hindsight, even if Simon'd been a genius, it wouldn't've made a diff. Dark-skined 'n full-lipped as he were, folks round them years would still'a called him a moron with a capital N. Sad truth, I guess. Sometimes, yer just can't win.)

I remember our first meeting, though. It was the first day of the County Fair, and I'd checked into the area looking to make some bucks. Two Quarters a pie was my asking fee. Maybe a little steep fer the time but, a man has to eat even if he can't die. On that very same day, Simon made himself present at the fair. His mother, the last link he had to any sort of family, had recently passed away an' he was lookin' t' cheer himself up. I learned this from the town Gossip who happened to be passing by my pie cart when he came a'strollin' my way. Simon's mom was known through the community fer her irresistible home cookin', which explains how her son ended up looking as if he was forever bein' stung from within by hornets.

She was a farmin' gal who'd received the 39 acres of growing and grazin' land that she had from her late husband, and using that land, coupled with Simon takin' on useless but well-payin' jobs 'round town, she and her son had led happy, well-fed lives up till her end. Still, above all the rest of her recipes, what she were most well known fer were her pies. flakey, sweet pastries made with butter and cane sugar and, above all else, the filling. I'll get t' that in a moment.