Pie-Died Death

They sat at the table, lit starkly by the bare bulb overhead. Between them the deck of tarot cards. Two cards face up; three of swords, romantic betrayal, five of swords, victory through deceit. The last card, face down. Licking her dry lips she reached out, flipped the last card

Suddenly, the lights flickered and the windows crashed open. The final card she’d drawn was Death.

Someone cackled cruelly behind her. She whipped around to see a shadow, black as night, with a vaguely humanoid form. "As they say, the end is pie," the shadow hissed in a horrible, raspy voice. She was somewhat afraid, but couldn't take it seriously after the mention of pie.

“Sorry, did you say pie?” The dark figure nodded. “The end is... pie? Not nigh?” Non-plussed by the enquiry the demon doubled down on the scary voice. “Yeeessss - it’s a metaphoooor”, he spat. It was no use; the moment had gone and

the pie had clearly gone bad. The dark figure’s posture became sullen and disappointed at the lost opportunity for grandiose pastries.

“Common mistake,” came a voice. The dark figure looked around concerned. Slowly the pie rose up on its tin and glared menacingly at the dark figure. “I may be spoiled,” said the pie, “but I’m not evil!” With that the pie fired a torrent of rotten berries toward the dark figure.