Young adults are an interesting bunch. Currently I have three in my home. One is here only temporarily and will be gone in another week. They are 19 (girl), 20 (girl) and 21 (boy). Don’t let their ages fool you. They are conspirators.

My partner baked incredibly delicious pies that they’ve all fallen in love with. Several people who’ve tasted his pies continue to come back for more. One friend, a man who carves headstones for all the local graveyards and mows lawns on the side for a little extra cash has been struggling to hold onto a whole pie. His nephew and son have decided that sharing is caring. So he is often left with only a few slices after they’ve confiscated their share of his pie. Our next door neighbor, a petite elderly Southern belle with a flowering smile, who at her ripe age takes weekend trips to New Orleans to see her beau, has raved about my sweetie’s pies which she claims are “exquisite”. In her eyes he is now a “fine chef” whom she wouldn’t dare compete with. According to her she’ll stick to making her cold hors d’oeuvres and let my sweetie manage the flame.

The pie adventures have gotten so intense that when the youth in the house were told that one of the pies they were salivating over was not for them, but for the grass cutting headstone man, they decided to take matters into their own hands and left the attached note atop one of the pies will we slept. Imagine waking up, heading to the kitchen to ensure the pie has not been molested, and you are met with this.

Can you believe they signed it? They need to move out.