I TELL STORIES

Alfred liked eating cherry pie more than any other food. Or candy. He had eaten a generous slice of cherry pie on special days ever since Madalyn Murray O'Hair and two family members were killed and dismembered in 1995. 

Alfred never liked cherry pie before O’Hair was murdered. He couldn’t remember why. But the day after the killers’ ringleader was apprehended, he ate a slice and found it to be peculiarly rewarding. The crimson color was rich, like fresh blood, amplified by an intriguing juxtaposition of tart and sweet merging to catalyze the cherries’ unique taste, and a finish warm, smooooth, and lingering. The best cherry pie presentations were at eateries specializing in homemade fare, i.e. there were more cherries than filling, rich crust made with butter and lard instead of white vegetable oil slabs, and no fake sugar sweeteners.

Alfred considered cherry pie the perfect reward for a successful special day excursion. Special days were infrequent in the early years after O’Hair’s murder because Alfred had a job. A person with a hobby such as himself had to be particular because there would be no more special days unless the last one was perfectly planned and executed. Glossing over a single detail could result in hesitation and resultant failure. Retirement five years ago helped his hobby bloom and cherry pie rewards jumped from one or two a year to eight or nine.

Alfred had a best buddy, a green Yellow-Naped Amazon parrot named Bronson after the Death Wish actor. Over the last twenty years Bronson had learned many of his namesake’s most memorable movie quotes. Bronson was a good conversationalist.