Just a Normal Pie

"Mmm, this pie is delicious, Mrs. Basingstoke," I said, happily filling my face with another spoonful.

"You're welcome, dearie. Can I get you any more?" she replied in her usual upbeat tone.

"Say, um... You're a Mrs. yet you are alone, what happened to your husband?" I inquired.

"Oh, he's gone," she said. "Fairly recently, actually. Took me by surprise just the other week."

"I'm so sorry," I said, feeling rude for asking.

"Don't worry about it sweetheart, you didn't know. You just keep eating up that pie." She smiled at me.

"I forgot to ask, what's in this pie?" I questioned.

"Not much really, carrots, a bit of spice, gravy... And meat. It's just a normal pie." She turned and began to clean up her plates in the sink.

"Well it is amazing," I said, complimenting her on her amazing cooking. She let out a sigh of contentment.

"Oh, my Alan, he was always such a sweet man." She took a spoon to my pie and ate a mouthful herself. "I like to think there's a little bit of him inside all of us."

I had now finished all my pie, I handed her my plate and sat back down at the table. A few minutes later she placed down a bowl of trifle. I began to dig in.

"Anyone would think I was trying to fatten you up," Mrs. Basingstoke chuckled. Her chuckle became manic laughter.

I asked her what she found so funny.

"Amazing isn't it deary, just how clean it is."

"How clean what is?" I asked.

"Cyanide," She hysterically cackled. "Kills a man no problem, no blood, no mess, and it doesn't ruin his meat at all."

I began to feel uneasy.

"How was the pie? Was that not the best meat you'd ever tasted?"

I began to choke on the trifle I was eating, I spat out a lump of it one the table.

"What's the problem?" She said, seemingly guiltless.

"You made me eat your husband!" I yelled.

"Oh no sweetie, that's just a normal pie. People make terrible pies," She chortled.

"You are SICK!" I stormed to the door, but it was locked. I yanked at the door handle as hard as I could but it would not budge. "What did you do?"

"Poisoned his food," she said.

I felt unusual. She smiled, turned round, and began staring into my eyes.

"Now sit down, and finish your pudding."