It was nice weather for Autumn – fog as thick as my pumpkin soup. The moon’s reflection was peering out from the clouds and ghosts of my memories drew me towards home. I loved nights like this. There is nothing more satisfying than the soft droplets of love against my face. When I was young, Mum took me trick or treating. She said it gave me a better understanding of human behaviour and I do have a sweet tooth.
Rory dropped me off, and I got home just before dawn. Had I been out all night? My sister had already gone to bed, and left a note on the table. I don’t think she was too happy with me – it was written in my precious squid ink.
”Zombie pie in the oven, make sure you put the pastry on top!” It isn’t really made of Zombies, that would be disgusting, but this special brand of pie was created by next door neighbour Zenith. I was ill one night, and he brought it round for me to try. It tastes of apples, cinnamon, and just a dash of Worcester sauce. Delicious and just the thing for my party.
He’s a nice guy, but he can be a bit morose at times. Last time I saw him he was moaning about how the bins were the right way up. He was going to ring the council and complain, but what good would that do? I told him he needs a hobby. Maybe he should start a business making pies – he could hire someone to make his own mess.
I remove the pie out of the oven, burnt at the edges, just how I like it. The top of the pastry made, I put it back in the fridge. Tomorrow I’ll cook it fresh – eight hours in the oven should make it crisp and just the right shade of dust.