Terrible Hunger for the Perfected Pie

Mother was a queen of the pies, filling each with dreams inside. Jams and cream and
Slices of fruit. Anyone seeing or smelling them would smile at a friend and shake
Hands when one left the oven newly born compliments to the cook adorned
All cried: "I need the pie!! Heighten the flowing tide of life!" You must realize that if
Enough envy a thing, some will covet or perhaps something. A squirrel god with heads
12, beat breast with drool humiliating itsеlf. Outside the family window glaring in, its breath and 24 tiny еyes staring. The poor thing
Was used to entering leather flaps, the window, to it, a bizarre concept. Down it burrowed to come up under rattling the invisible
Window barrier. The foundation of the house was deep, eating and pushing the dirt at 20'. Tiring itself at 50' underground. Disorienting
Itself with 12 dirtied brows. Eyes clogged, bludgeoned with rocks shut. 140' down still imagining pies intensifying lust