Are You There, Pie? It's Me, Dean Winchester
Genre: crack
Words: 458
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimers: Don't do 'em.
Written for Food Week at spn_bigpretzel
A/N Ladylord Cake Is Love.
“I cannot BELIEVE this!” Dean exclaimed. “This is the fifth diner we’ve been to with no PIE!”
“Keep your voice down-just because there's none in the display case--"
"I need PIE!” Dean bellowed loudly enough for the other diner patrons to turn their heads. The exhausted, brunette waitress in a green uniform and a name tag that read “Howdy! I’m Krista!” stood over him, pad and pencil in hand.
“Apple pie,” Dean demanded.
“All out. We have Boston Cream pie,” she said.
Dean drew himself up. “Boston Cream pie Is.Not.Pie. It’s chocolate covered crap with yellow pudding. It makes pie ashamed of itself.”
Sam gave the waitress a conciliatory look. “I’ll have a cup of decaf and a piece of Ladylord cake.”
"What the hell is Ladylord cake?"
“Ladylord cake is three cakes in one,” Sam said. “Chocolate cake, yellow cake, chocolate frosting, vanilla buttercream frosting, and marshmallow frosting. It’s the United Nations of cake.” He grinned. “You should try it, Dean.”
“Dude? Could you be more gay?”
The waitress brought what looked like a huge stack of smeared multicolored buttercream. Sam slowly took the first bite. “Um-um!”
“I want PIE.” Dean’s temper was getting to the boiling point. “Come on, lady, you’ve gotta have something! Look in the back! How come none of the diners on this goddamn road don’t have PIE?”
The waitress’s eyes flipped beetle black. “There’s no pie anywhere in this state, Dean. We’ve taken care of that. Not Hostess, not even Little Debbies, nothing. You’re going to have to make due with carob brownies.”
“You BITCH!” Dean roared, grabbing for his knife. The waitress expelled the foul black smoke in a swirling cloud, then dropped to the floor, unconscious. Everyone in the diner was staring at them.
“Uh, Dean, we better hit the road.” Another waiter was bending over Krista, smacking her cheeks to bring her around.
“Excuse me, waiter, but could I have this cake boxed to go?”
Outside, before they got in the Impala, Dean smacked his hands on the roof. “No fucking pie,” he said hoarsely. “NO PIE!” he roared up at the heavens. “I NEED MY PIE!”
Sammy leaned back in his seat, flipped open the plastic container, and took a big piece of cake out with a plastic fork. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Fucking demons! I swear, Sammy, the minute we reach Missouri, I am buying twenty-five cherry pies, taking my clothes off and rolling in them! And-and I’m going to hire hookers to smear blueberry pie on my happy parts!”
“We’re getting separate motel rooms. And please don’t tell me what you’re gonna do with the apple pie.”
Dean gunned the engine and they flew down the road, in search of the Holy Grail of Pie.
Words: 458
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimers: Don't do 'em.
Written for Food Week at spn_bigpretzel
A/N Ladylord Cake Is Love.
“I cannot BELIEVE this!” Dean exclaimed. “This is the fifth diner we’ve been to with no PIE!”
“Keep your voice down-just because there's none in the display case--"
"I need PIE!” Dean bellowed loudly enough for the other diner patrons to turn their heads. The exhausted, brunette waitress in a green uniform and a name tag that read “Howdy! I’m Krista!” stood over him, pad and pencil in hand.
“Apple pie,” Dean demanded.
“All out. We have Boston Cream pie,” she said.
Dean drew himself up. “Boston Cream pie Is.Not.Pie. It’s chocolate covered crap with yellow pudding. It makes pie ashamed of itself.”
Sam gave the waitress a conciliatory look. “I’ll have a cup of decaf and a piece of Ladylord cake.”
"What the hell is Ladylord cake?"
“Ladylord cake is three cakes in one,” Sam said. “Chocolate cake, yellow cake, chocolate frosting, vanilla buttercream frosting, and marshmallow frosting. It’s the United Nations of cake.” He grinned. “You should try it, Dean.”
“Dude? Could you be more gay?”
The waitress brought what looked like a huge stack of smeared multicolored buttercream. Sam slowly took the first bite. “Um-um!”
“I want PIE.” Dean’s temper was getting to the boiling point. “Come on, lady, you’ve gotta have something! Look in the back! How come none of the diners on this goddamn road don’t have PIE?”
The waitress’s eyes flipped beetle black. “There’s no pie anywhere in this state, Dean. We’ve taken care of that. Not Hostess, not even Little Debbies, nothing. You’re going to have to make due with carob brownies.”
“You BITCH!” Dean roared, grabbing for his knife. The waitress expelled the foul black smoke in a swirling cloud, then dropped to the floor, unconscious. Everyone in the diner was staring at them.
“Uh, Dean, we better hit the road.” Another waiter was bending over Krista, smacking her cheeks to bring her around.
“Excuse me, waiter, but could I have this cake boxed to go?”
Outside, before they got in the Impala, Dean smacked his hands on the roof. “No fucking pie,” he said hoarsely. “NO PIE!” he roared up at the heavens. “I NEED MY PIE!”
Sammy leaned back in his seat, flipped open the plastic container, and took a big piece of cake out with a plastic fork. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Fucking demons! I swear, Sammy, the minute we reach Missouri, I am buying twenty-five cherry pies, taking my clothes off and rolling in them! And-and I’m going to hire hookers to smear blueberry pie on my happy parts!”
“We’re getting separate motel rooms. And please don’t tell me what you’re gonna do with the apple pie.”
Dean gunned the engine and they flew down the road, in search of the Holy Grail of Pie.