You're unsure of what to do.

If your boss is really gone, why, that means no more work. A happy proposition indeed, you think to yourself.

"But what shall I do now?" you say to no one in particular.

At that moment a breeze stirs through the trees from the east. A delicious smell wafts to your nostrils: cherries and sugar, blueberries and apples. This is irresistible.

"Someone's cooking," you say, and your mind is made up. "I won't be caught away from the festivities. Onward!" You begin marching eastward through the thick mess of trees, vines, and insects.

You have been walking for twenty minutes now, and still the heavenly smell delights your senses. What wondrous food awaits you! Your mouth waters simply thinking about it. A pie five stories tall, heat rising from the cherrular insides; a heat so delicious and scrumptious that you could climb a ladder to the top of the pie and jump out over the surface and simply float there on a thermal of raptured bliss, as if held in the hands of God Himself. Blueberries floating by in an enticing dance ("Eat us! Eat us!") -- sugar snowing from the heavens in soft clumps that melt as you catch them in your mouth; a musical score playing all the while illustrating for your ears the intricacies of taste.

Taste!

"Dear pie!" you yell. "I'm quite ready to find you now!"

And as those words leave your lips, you push through the leaves of the forest and emerge in a sunlit clearing; and the smell of the Pie is greater than ever.

"What is this?"

For before you is a most magnificent sight: Colours!

Laid out before you is every colour in the spectrum, a vast field of what appears to be plants, but not just green plants: red, blue, yellow, orange, purple, and every shade in between.

"A visitor!" A voice rings out from a small house that lies on the north edge of the field. A plump man waddles towards you, waving a hat in his hand in greeting. It takes him a moment to draw close enough to speak to you.

He breathes heavily in exhaustion, and sweat streams down his face. His ten-gallon hat is striped with colours of every sort. He places it back on his head and begins to speak.

"'Lo there, stranger. I'm Gerald." He extends his hand and you shake it warmly. "What brings you to our humble farm?"

"Pie. Cherry in specific, but I might like the blueberry as well."

"We've that, we've that. Come on to the house and you can have all you want."

He turns and begins walking back to his house. You follow him, glancing back at the field of colours.

"Farm, you say? What do you grow here?"

"Fruits of the rainbow -- and every part of the rainbow, not just half of it, like the Hackett family.

"Why on earth would you grow half of the rainbow?"

"It's a very good question. I like you already."

The door is slightly ajar when you and Gerald arrive at his house, and the aroma of the Pie blows out in a steady stream of goodness.

"PiePiePie," you chant. You push the door open and step in ahead of Gerald.

Your eyes grow big and you throw up your arms in exultation.

"O heavenly smell! The delight of my stomach!"

There, on a wooden kitchen table, is the largest, warmest, most scrumptious pie you have ever seen.

Gerald sidles up beside you and slips you a fork. You quickly set to work.

Light, crisp crust -- not too moist. Inside, the perfect cherries, fresh, homegrown, redder than red.

"Very good," you say, spewing cherry juice across the room. "Delishish."

"I'll say!" Gerald's gelatinous chin jiggles jollily. "How about some blueberry?" With a flourish he reaches behind his back and produces a another steaming pie.

You give a squeal of excitement and take it eagerly. Gerald smiles and chuckles.

"Now, don't get too excited," he says. "I've got plenty of pies. Take your time." He sits down at the table and watches as you, standing, devour the blueberry pie.

You let out a burp and pat your stomach. "Whew," you sigh. "I think that's about it for me."

"Oh, are you sure? Only two?" Gerald seems saddened. "Just one more. One more for the road, eh?"

You're hesitant, but you don't want to upset your host. Reluctantly you comply. "Okay. But only one."

"Thatta boy!" He laughs as he hands you a third pie.

You examine it. "What kind of pie is this?"

"Kiwi."

You shrug and dig in. It tastes pleasantly green.

"You're a talented cook," you say, mouth full.

"I don't like to brag, but I've won a few competitions in my day."

You pull a wooden chair away from the table and lean back in it, one hand on your bloated stomach. You set what's left of the kiwi pie on the table.

"Ah," you sigh as you sit down. "Whew."

"Eh? You didn't eat all of it." Gerald waves toward the pie. "Eat up, boy."

You look at him. "I think I'm done. I'm just --" you belch again -- "too full."

Gerald has a fork in his hand. He taps it on the table. Clink. Clinkclink.

...

Clink.

"It's really rather a waste, don't you think?" Gerald says finally. He stares at you with intensity.

You're unsure of what to say. "I can't eat any more," you murmur.

Gerald runs a hand over his flabby face. His lips gleam with spittle.

"I think you need to eat the rest of that pie."

"You know what, I think I'd better be going..." You try to stand up and Gerald shoves you back into your chair. He looms over you.

"You'd best eat the rest of that pie or I'm gonna shove it down your throat."

"I -- I can't eat the rest of it, please --"

BANG.

He slams his hand down on the table. He leans in close, putrid breath wrapping its arms around you. "You're not going anywhere until you eat the rest of that pie."