The Great Big Pot Pie Gamble
On this particular morning, Angus awoke with an idea so brilliant it could have lit the village with its sheer ingenuity. He would attempt something never done before in the history of Nowheresville – he would bake the world's largest pot pie! It was to be a feat that would place him in the records of village lore forevermore.
However, as Angus was not known for his culinary prowess, this dream could have easily turned into a nightmare if it hadn't been for the unintentional assistance of his dear neighbor, Mabel McGuffin. Mabel was famous throughout the village for her cooking, especially her delectable and flaky pie crusts, which were known to make grown men weep.
"Angus McFarty, what on earth do you plan to do with that mountain of dough?" Mabel inquired as she leaned over the small picket fence separating their properties, squinting at the monstrosity that Angus had assembled in his backyard.
"I'm going to make history, Mabel! This pot pie will be my ticket to fame and...more fame!" Angus beamed, gesturing with grandiosity towards the colossal mound of pastry that loomed like a beige blimp in his garden.
Mabel sighed. "I reckon you'll need some help if you don't want to end up with the world's biggest doorstop." And from there, an unexpected alliance was formed - between raw ambition and culinary expertise.
The first order of business was finding an oven large enough to accommodate the pie. As luck would have it, Old Mr. Filbert’s brick pizza oven had been lying dormant since the great cheese shortage of '86. They struck a deal with him: in exchange for using the oven, he'd get the first slice. Which, given the pie's slated magnitude, was roughly the size of a small mattress.
Gathering ingredients was the next colossal task. Chickens fled in panic as word spread that Angus and Mabel were on the prowl. Carrots and peas hid beneath the soil, shaking in fear. The entire village was drafted into the effort; it was a Pot Pie Potluck of gigantic proportions. Donations were left on Angus's doorstep under the cover of night, ranging from herbs and spices to anonymous notes that read, "Just don't make it spicy, my dentures can't handle it."
For days, the pair labored, Mabel taking charge of the dough, rolling it with a steamroller borrowed from the village construction site. Angus, meanwhile, became a master of mixtures, stirring an immense cauldron of filling with an oar taken from the local boating lake.
Finally, after all the tumult and toil, the pie was assembled. With a heave and a ho, it was slid into Mr. Filbert's prodigious oven, and the fire was lit. The entire village gathered, sitting around the oven like worshipers around a hallowed flame, sharing stories of pies past and betting on the outcome of this culinary caper.
Hours passed, and an aroma that could only be described as heavenly wafted through the vicinity, causing stomachs to growl in anticipation. Then, with a creak and a groan, the oven door opened, and there it was: the world's largest – and actually quite delicious looking – pot pie.
"It's...it's beautiful," Angus whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek, sparkling in the glow of his doughy monolith. But just as the crowd prepared to dive in with forks raised high, the unthinkable happened.
A peculiar whirring sound pierced the air, followed by a sudden gust of wind. "What in the name of Aunt Edna's underpants is that?" Mabel shouted, clinging onto her hat. Lo and behold, Angus's 'Auto-Snore 3000', apparently offended at being left out of the celebrations and attracted by the smell, sprang to life, misinterpreting the pot pie as a snoozing giant.
It began a serenade of snores, supplemented by a spontaneous accordion concerto that sent vibrations through the earth. The pot pie, structurally destabilized by the acoustic assault, began to quake. Then, as if in slow motion, it ripped down the middle, releasing a tsunami of creamy chicken and vegetable filling that washed over the crowd.
Panic turned into peals of laughter as the villagers realized that instead of eating the pie, they were now swimming in it. Angus and Mabel, covered head to toe in pot pie filling, stared at each other and then burst into uncontrollable laughter. Never had there been a more scrumptious disaster in Nowheresville.
They say to this day, if you pass by Mr. Filbert's pizza oven, you can still smell the faint whiff of chicken and thyme. And Angus? He never did get his fame for the pie, but he did earn a new title, bestowed upon him by the giggling villagers: "Angus McFarty, the man who turned Nowheresville into Chicken Pot Pieville."
And he lived flavorfully ever after. The end.
