The Pie Maker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wordvomit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2015-06-14 10:59 am
wordvomit) wrote in entrancelogs2015-06-14 10:59 am
[OPEN] you know what kinda eats? the kinda red-hot treats
Who: Ned (the Pie Maker) & YOU
Where: The diner, the coffee shop, the hallways
When: June 12 - June 15
Rating: PG-13 to R for gruesome flesh-eating?!
Summary: As if things weren't bad enough already being someone who can touch dead things and bring them back to life, having to eat dead things in order to live makes it worse.
The Story:
[The facts were these:
Being simultaneously of a variety of undead - or "alive again," as the Pie Maker preferred to be called - and possessing an innate ability to touch dead things and bring them back to life often made things difficult. These small difficulties, such as having to mitigate the caveat of his gift and also being unable to ingest anything that did not come from a human, often compromised Ned's non-confrontational and pacifist philosophies. No one ever asks the diner's baker why he never consumes any of his own pies.
Conscious of Wonderland's blessed contributions in the form of ready-to-eat "meat" and content that he could indulge the unconventional fondness he has for baking, the Pie Maker was therefore stunned when he opened the icebox and discovered it was devoid of the morning helping of long pig. (To this day, while lacking any fondness for his affliction, it is wholly unsettling to have to acquire dead flesh, reanimate it with a single touch, before destroying it again with another.)
The cravings began shortly thereafter as he swilled caffeine in the diner and the coffee shop a couple of floors down, politely excusing himself from Chuck's company to avoid temptation he could feel clawing at the back of his throat and in the pit of his stomach. Nervous pacing, compliments of an anxious nature and compounded by hunger so searing and sharp it could cut him in two, sends Ned on frantic, one-track journeys around their little restaurant: to and from the counter, to and from the freezer, to and from the stove and ovens and soda fountain and booths.
Little round tables in their semi-circles like decorations on a cake are prowled around by a man in an apron trying very hard to be inconspicuous while sweat beads on his brow and the stuttered stream of customers - human, live customers - makes his teeth hurt.
While hunger was not an unfamiliar sensation to the Pie Maker-cum-Ghoul more than three days in sees him wishing there was a local hoosgow wherein he might be incarcerated, for the safety of others if not his own, abandoning his post at the diner to stalk the hallways in the hopes that physical exercise might deter him from doing something he might regret.
It won't, for long.]
Where: The diner, the coffee shop, the hallways
When: June 12 - June 15
Rating: PG-13 to R for gruesome flesh-eating?!
Summary: As if things weren't bad enough already being someone who can touch dead things and bring them back to life, having to eat dead things in order to live makes it worse.
The Story:
[The facts were these:
Being simultaneously of a variety of undead - or "alive again," as the Pie Maker preferred to be called - and possessing an innate ability to touch dead things and bring them back to life often made things difficult. These small difficulties, such as having to mitigate the caveat of his gift and also being unable to ingest anything that did not come from a human, often compromised Ned's non-confrontational and pacifist philosophies. No one ever asks the diner's baker why he never consumes any of his own pies.
Conscious of Wonderland's blessed contributions in the form of ready-to-eat "meat" and content that he could indulge the unconventional fondness he has for baking, the Pie Maker was therefore stunned when he opened the icebox and discovered it was devoid of the morning helping of long pig. (To this day, while lacking any fondness for his affliction, it is wholly unsettling to have to acquire dead flesh, reanimate it with a single touch, before destroying it again with another.)
The cravings began shortly thereafter as he swilled caffeine in the diner and the coffee shop a couple of floors down, politely excusing himself from Chuck's company to avoid temptation he could feel clawing at the back of his throat and in the pit of his stomach. Nervous pacing, compliments of an anxious nature and compounded by hunger so searing and sharp it could cut him in two, sends Ned on frantic, one-track journeys around their little restaurant: to and from the counter, to and from the freezer, to and from the stove and ovens and soda fountain and booths.
Little round tables in their semi-circles like decorations on a cake are prowled around by a man in an apron trying very hard to be inconspicuous while sweat beads on his brow and the stuttered stream of customers - human, live customers - makes his teeth hurt.
While hunger was not an unfamiliar sensation to the Pie Maker-cum-Ghoul more than three days in sees him wishing there was a local hoosgow wherein he might be incarcerated, for the safety of others if not his own, abandoning his post at the diner to stalk the hallways in the hopes that physical exercise might deter him from doing something he might regret.
It won't, for long.]
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