Alone in the Dessert

Phineas Franklin Wallinson was very angry, which was not so uncommon, and today he was mad about some flying pies. He held the flier in his knobby, hairy hands and slowly, deliberately tore the paper in half, then wadded it up, got ready to throw it in the trash, thought better of it, unwadded it, tore it up into smaller pieces, then wadded all the smaller pieces together and chucked the shreds into the garbage disposal unit connected to his sink. He savored the sound of the blades chewing up the paper into a pulp.

“Pie in the Sky!” Phineas spat. “Pah! Who would ever want their pies delivered by drones? Nobody! It takes the human element out of the equation! There is no warmth in, in, in a robot handing over a freshly cooked pastry!”

His assistant, one Tomothy (not Timothy—he still held a grudge against his parents for that one) Hindson, looked up from decorating a Christmas cake with fondue snowmen and raised an eyebrow.

“The drones are being outfitted with decorations, according to the advertising campaign,” Tomothy noted, adjusting his disposable hair cap. “I saw one fly over just the other day, dressed like a reindeer. It was very charming.”

Phineas, his mustache starting to split out of its carefully groomed curls, rounded on his assistant and shook a very menacing finger in his face, though without ever actually touching the man.

“I was the first to create super-fast baked goods delivery in this town!” Phineas cried. “She is stealing my idea! It’s copyright fraud! It’s corporate espionage!”

“Yes, Sawol Park is a regular super-spy of baking,” Tomothy intoned. “It would be very difficult for her to know you were doing super-fast delivery and respond to it, since you started doing the fast-delivery over a year ago.”

“I don’t appreciate your sense of humor,” Phineas growled, though he took a moment to gently rearrange several bags of pecans on his shelves. “I am proud of Sweet Emergency. I converted an old ambulance into my delivery vehicle. No one can deliver a plate of cookies as fast as me! And legal, too! Not one speeding ticket!”

“This week anyway,” Tomothy said. “Yet. Now if you could, boss, I need to concentrate on Frosting the Snowman here.”

“Pah!” cried Phineas, slamming open the front door to his shop (made to look like a very cheerful mini-hospital made from sweets and snacks). “We just got an order in over the online system. Scones. Top emergency, over on 34^th Street and Clive. The snowman will have to wait! You will bake the scones while I drive!”

Phineas marched outside with Tomothy sighing while attempting to chuck a parka around his shoulders and running after his boss. However, as they exited onto the front porch, they saw a scooter parked near the aforementioned ambulance.

A souped-up scooter with a huge container on the back, filled with baked goods and a distinctive logo—Yeast Meets West Bakery (now with Pie in the Sky special delivery written underneath). And there was Sawol Park, standing bolt upright next to the scooter, a grim expression plastered across her face.

It looked like there was a smudge of flour on her nose—but it might have been a smattering of snowflakes.

Phineas nearly exploded upon seeing her, his face going red in a wave down his neck and into his shirt. The snow falling from the sky instantly seemed to turn to steam upon touching his skin.

“What are you doing here?” he bellowed. “I told you never to come back!”

Sawol would not look at Phineas. She stared straight ahead, stiff and straight, as if at attention in the military, and began belting out a scramble of words.

“Yeast Meets West is offering a new service,” she blared. “Over the holiday season, in order to encourage Christmas-time love, we are offering a new fast delivery of romantic holiday chocolates, and…”

“No!” declared Phineas. “I will not stand here while you issue forth advertisements to offend my ears! Tomothy! To the ambulance!”

Without deigning another glance at the woman, Phineas charged for his refurbished bakery-mobile, Tomothy scurrying closely behind with a droll expression upon his face.

“Hi Sawol,” he said before disappearing into the back of the ambulance. “Gotta go.”

“I can see that,” said Sawol, blinking.

The ambulance jumped to life, the strawberry-shaped flashing lights atop the vehicle blinking on, a jaunty tune blasting out of the speakers.

“Sweet emergency, full of urgency, you can snack on something sweet!” it sang out. “If you’ve heard of me, call and you will see, the best goods you can eat!”

The wheels underneath the ambulance squealed, and the vehicle peeled out of the driveway. Tomothy had already started up the scones in the back, steam already rising from a vent placed on the roof. In moments the Sweet Ambulance had disappeared down the street.

“Well,” cried Phineas with grim satisfaction. “That’s that! No one is faster than we are when it comes to deliveries! She can choke on our exhaust!”

“Indeed?” said Tomothy, adjusting the scones—four different flavors, vanilla, chocolate, caramel, toffee—and setting them to bake. “What’s that sound outside?”

“Sound?” asked Phineas. “That’s my theme song! I mean…”

He peered out the window, and gasped.

Sawol, on her souped-up scooter, was catching up to them, her vehicle emitting a cheeky buzzing sound that grew louder and louder as she drew closer. She waved at him, her face still set in that same stiff, strained expression she had held outside Phineas’ bakery.

“Confound that woman!” the baker exclaimed, and spun his steering wheel.

“Eating pastries, even hastily, can be the tastiest treat you find! If you’re hungry, we have sundry, baked goods that will blow your mind!”

The ambulance careened around the corner at 45^th and Powell, nearly clipping the prominent stop sign that stood there, and causing Libby the local crank and her phalanx of five poodles to leap simultaneously over a meter in the air and come crashing down in a snow drift. They all (including Libby) barked in deep objection to their mistreatment.

“You’re going to put me in the hospital with that thing!” she yelped, only to be interrupted by a buzzing blast as Sawol burst by, taking a short cut across the sidewalk.

Phineas muttered a frightening string of unpleasantries as he plowed through the streets. Tomothy attempted to keep the drawers and cupboards from flying open and banging him in the head.

“You’re going to set a record for land-speed delivery of yeasty treats, Phineas,” he called out. “Or at least you will if the police don’t stop you first.”

“The police and I have an understanding!” Phineas crowed back. “It involves significant donations of donuts! I’m just relieved to…”

A fierce growl interrupted his thoughts, and once again the great baker chanced a glance out the window. Sure enough, the growl was Sawol’s impressive scooter kicking it up a notch—and it sounded angry.

Phineas slammed his fists down on the dashboard and petulantly bounced up and down in his seat, spewing vitriol while Tomothy continued to carefully monitor the ovens and whistled an old jazz number.

“It’s a good thing I outfitted this baby with four-wheel drive!” Phineas yelled. “I can deliver even where there are no roads!”

With another jerk to the steering wheel, and another gut-turning corner, the Sweet Ambulance took off down a dirt alleyway between residential houses. The alleyway could barely be called a road, and the accumulated snow was by no means even slightly shoveled or dealt with in any way—meaning the Sweet Ambulance would have to do all the work of plowing through.

Fountains of snow shot out dramatically behind the vehicle as it bounced down the alley in great knocks and bobbles, and Tomothy dutifully buckled himself to the oven so that he could not be thrown asunder from his baking duty. The oven itself was also installed in such a way that it had spring-loaded dampers that adjusted to the vehicle’s eccentric pathfinding, keeping the thing relatively stable so that it could cook goodies as evenly as possible. Several children flopping about in the snow in their backyards were summarily drenched in the white stuff as the ambulance thundered by. Muffled cheers rang out, and several ragamuffins came running behind the ambulance, arms waving, trying to catch the spray.

The Sweet Ambulance hit the road again briefly before bounding down another poorly-maintained alleyway, this time startling a cadre of raccoons who were patronizing a local dumpster.

“All this bouncing may affect the shape of some of these scones, even with the spring-loaded oven you made,” Tomothy said absently. “Still will be delicious, but the presentation may be a bit lacking.”

“We will offer a discount!” Phineas declared. “What in the blazing blue—how did she…”

But she did, zigging around the corner ahead, her scooter belching black smoke and roaring for leather. Not only had Sawol caught up with the rogue ambulance, she had actually passed them.

“If you think about it,” Tomothy said, “She was driving on actual streets, ergo…”

“Ergo we cut through the park!” Phineas whinnied.

The denizens of the park were also not used to seeing a monstrous ambulance galumphing through the glades and paths and bike trails. Clouds of pampered birds stuffed on breadcrumbs splattered the sky, the local bums leapt for cover behind their benches—even a wandering deer took a great flying leap straight into a small pond as Phineas powered by.

“The police have a limit, you know,” said Tomothy. “The power of free donuts can only take you so far.”

“She can’t come back and mock me with her products and her success!” Phineas growled. “Not during the Christmas season! She just wants to make a laughingstock of me! I won’t let her!”

When the Sweet Ambulance bounced and jigged out the other side of the park, Sawol was finally gone, and Phineas allowed himself a cheer of triumph.

“Tomothy!” he cried out. “We have proved we are the faster and the fresher bakery in town this day! Whatever Sawol Park was trying to deliver, we were quicker. And since this fast machine in which we drive is equipped with the freshest ingredients and the accoutrements with which to cook while out on delivery, we also can claim the freshest and most wonderful delicacies available in the city!”

Tomothy grimaced, twisted up in his restraints, and managed to get his right arm loose and relax a smidge.

“Freshest, yes,” he said. “Most wonderful? Maybe not today. I believe the scones may have gotten a little… smushed.”

Phineas raised a finger and waved it about erratically.

“Worth it!” he crowed. “Completely worth it!”

The rest of the drive was much less eventful, as Phineas (mostly) kept to the speed limit and (mostly) followed the street laws. Tomothy did his very best to rescue the scones from a crummy fate, and, being the highly skilled pastry chef that he was, in large part, he succeeded. After parking, and with great pomp and circumstance, Phineas packaged the scones in gaudy boxes, separating them out by flavor, and performed a few final flourishes to perfect the presentation. A ribbon, a flashy sticker, his autograph, and then they were out, marching to the house, Phineas in front beaming from one ear down to his chin (he had a lopsided smile), Tomothy walking behind, watching Phineas closely lest the older man topple on the ice and snow.

Even with their attempts to resuscitate the beleaguered scones, however, some of the specimens were not up to spec, and Phineas offered a generous discount along with copious apologies and a huge beaming smile. His customer, a woman of the name Rebecca Plickens, nevertheless received the treats with enthusiasm and made up for the discount with a generous tip. She had a party going on inside, and a gregarious gaggle of geriatric grandmothers cooed and yammered about how delicious the scones were. Phineas made sure to walk about and press flesh while passing out his business card.

Tomothy, who had actually made the scones and was responsible for the recipe, rolled his eyes, but enjoyed the words of praise just the same.

On the way out, Phineas was chortling and swiveling his shoulders about in satisfaction. Tomothy, meanwhile, made a sizeable snowball and contemplated chucking it at his boss’s head. Suddenly Phineas stopped. Tomothy almost collided with the portlier man. Even from behind, Tomothy could see the redness rising on the back of his boss’ neck, and he knew.

“So you found us, did you,” Phineas ground out. “You finally caught up.”

Sawol Park was standing, awkward and at attention, next to the Sweet Ambulance. She was holding a bright red package in her hands, and her face white enough to partially blend with the white winter wind. Her expression was so tense that Tomothy wondered how many calories she was burning just from maintaining it.

“We have a new initiative,” Sawol said. “A new product, meant to express romantic intentions in the holiday season…”

“I don’t want to buy your product!” Phineas exploded. “What has possessed you, woman? Even with a 100% discount, I would not be interested in purchasing your wares!”

Sawol blinked, her face going even whiter as her breath puffed out in wide clouds.

Phineas made a beeline for the ambulance’s door, but Sawol grabbed him by the coat. The large man froze, and even for a time he could not speak.

“This isn’t an advertisement,” said Sawol. “It is a delivery.”

Phineas’ head creaked around to stare at her. She stared back, her face becoming somehow even more tense.

“I wanted my first RomantiCake delivery,” she said. “To be for you.”

“For… me?” Phineas said, his great bushy eyebrows shooting up to add follicles to his sparse pate. “From… who?”

Sawol gulped audibly. Tomothy leaned against the mailbox out front, continuing to pack his snowball and watch.

“From me,” she said.

The rage on Phineas’ face evaporated into a sort of wonder, then switched to a dark grimace of suspicion.

“How many romantic cakes did I send you when you first left?” he said. “What makes you think that this one cake will resolve things so easily? Hm?”

Sawol looked down at the cake in her hands. Her breath continued to cloud around her lowered face.

“It’s your favorite kind,” she said. “Chocolate-chocolate super-chunk cheesecake with peanuts, swirled caramel and walnut-halves, plus raspberry syrup. I made sure everything was perfect, because I know you are very particular about your cheesecake.”

Tomothy could see that Phineas was already drooling, but trying to hold it back and keep a straight face.

“Why did you ignore the cakes I sent you?” he said.

“I don’t even like cakes, for eating,” she said. “You never paid any attention to the things that I liked. You never gave me the freedom to make the things I wanted when we were working together. How could I work under you any longer, when you always refused my ideas? Everything I did was always wrong in your eyes.”

“That’s not fair,” Phineas said, fingers twitching to take the box from her. “I know you like pecan pie, and I kept bags and bags of it in my larder, waiting for you to return! And I listened to you. We had meetings…”

Sawol looked up then, eyes hard.

“Meetings where you always rejected my ideas!” she said. “Tomothy listened and backed me up. You never did. Do you know how successful my Pie in the Sky initiative has turned out? I have never sold so many pies! And this could have been your profit, if only we had stayed together!”

Phineas jutted out his lower lip.

“I told you not to go,” he said. “I pleaded with you. That was your choice.”

“But you were smothering me!” Sawol said. “Don’t you understand? How can you be so pig-headed? If we worked together, we… could sell a lot more pastries.”

“You were the one who tore apart our bakery, like a dinner roll ready for buttering! I tried again and again to coax you back with my heartfelt pleas! And now you come and insult me and you expect things to be made better! Pah! Pig-headed indeed!”

And Phineas turned away from Sawol and the cake box and began tromping towards his ambulance, muttering to himself, hands clenched. Sawol stood watching him, face screwed up into an indecipherable perplexity of emotion.

Just then a huge snowball burst against Phineas’ back, high enough so that a nice healthy portion of snow went right down his neck. Phineas was so surprised that he let out a choked quacking sound, then whirled around, scrabbling at his neck, trying to get the snow out, fierce eyes bulging.

Tomothy was already packing a second snowball together. Phineas’ jaw dropped, and he looked at his partner, who just shook his head at him and stepped up beside Sawol. Phineas blinked and a change came over his face, the red rage that had characterized his expression seemed to soften suddenly, as if the snow had actually managed to cool his temper. Sawol put down the cake box.

She started making a snowball, too.

Phineas desperately ducked to grab snow and create his own ammunition, but he was hit twice before he could fire back. He jumped back to his feet, tossing off a snowball that flew far wide of Sawol. Tomothy nailed Phineas again in the side, Sawol hit him in the gut, and somehow Phineas kept missing every time.

After several more vigorous volleys, Phineas raised his hands in surrender, and he looked Sawol in the eyes, his own starting to tear up.

“You were right,” he said. “Oink, oink.”

“Shall we have a piece of cake?” asked Sawol. “There’s enough for Tomothy, too.”

“Yes,” said Phineas, blowing out a long breath. “I have extra pecans in the car.”