This choice: Should you go back for your shirt, then get on the crust and continue? • Go Back... It's just a second long backtrack, compared to the time it will take you to find it if it sinks in the mire it's really nothing; so you turn around before taking another step, and just behind you lies your shirt at waist-level on the muck; and just after snatching it, it’s something, someone else who catches your attention, and not a pleasant way this time.
High above the pastry landscape, the giant Ms. Summers is once again staring down at you, with the same look of craving on her face. This time though, she is holding not the pie tray you're in, but rather a knife and a fork in one hand and a plate in the other; which couldn't make her intentions any more clear were "PIE!! YAY!!" sewn on her top.
You flinch and scream and tumble back onto a slice of apple sunk beneath the warm goo of the applesauce and get weighted down up to your chest in it. Who would have thought that your, ehem, “big…ger than usual” neighbor would want the sweet pastry that your mom offers her every now and then, that she clearly likes very much, for dessert? Obviously, not you.
It takes a moment for you to start recovering from the shock and react properly, thankful for the baked slice of fresh fruit that prevented you from sinking deeper; and it’s then that you realize that being nearly sunk in this thick mire will kill you faster than your neighbor’s appetite will, so you better keep a cool head trough, hard as it will.
Carefully you maneuver your body to ascend from the crisply baked fruit slice; meanwhile your large neighbor puts aside her cutlery and grabs the dish with her free hand, while bringing down the knife to serve herself some pie.
By the time you stand up in the bog, the giant's knife has already struck down deep in the dish close to you; so close in fact, that you see your reflection aghast on the surface of its sweet-stained blade: your shocked, terrified reflection that sums what you would expect from someone facing a country-sized blade in the hands of a hungry giant.
Ms. Summers then starts pulling the knife in an angle, cutting through the pie and leaving a gap in its path in which the sauce starts filling in, like a mudslide into an earthly fissure.
When the steel reaches the tin edge, the woman extracts it to repeat the process once again, this time by the opposite side; and resumes her cut as she sections the part you're on into the classic triangular shape of a pie slice, trapping you near the very tip of it. As she slices, you get your footing on top of the sunken apple, and start wading back to the bread fold you intended to climb earlier; only to find that the divide made by the knife now creates another obstruction between the fold and you with a track-long gap in which the filling starts pouring in.
As dire as it looks, you’re not about to let yourself become the seasonal topping in this dessert. Quickly you come up with a plan to avoid such a fate, in which you risk navigating through the tip of the slice and drop of the edge either when she lifts the slice or when she puts it down in her plate. That way you won’t risk drowning in the thick landslide that is still filling into the gap, or hurting yourself from a fall from a great height; though it still will require precise timing on your part, so you start putting it in effect. Once you’re out of harm’s way, you can safely get away and hide someplace else without giving yourself away to your neighbor too early; confident that only if it becomes too dangerous will you forfeit stealth and reach for her attention.
Moving quickly while trying not to trip over, you soon feel your body slowed down as you sink into the applesauce bog as the base of the slice is lifted from the tray. Now wading forwards, you balance your body upright as you move to avoid going down while the swamp shivers from its lift, but your caution proves unnecessary as soon the sauce only reaches you waist deep, revealing that the apple piece slants upwards in your direction, easing your traverse. On the other hand, the slice is soon served on Ms. Summers' plate, ceasing the vibrations and presenting a whole new problem altogether.
From where you are, you can see that the slice is now outside the deep dish, on a smaller plate that's much closer to Ms. Summers. The giant herself is now placing aside the knife, and her eyes fix themselves over the slice, still oblivious to your plight, likely because of your extensive applesauce coating; and then she stabs the fork into the slice, further from you this time however. The silverware then cuts off the tip of the slice, which you still happened to be on; then pulled it from the plate and started to lift it to her eagerly expecting mouth, with you stuck to it and to the same fate.
Sparked into action, you start to wade towards the brink of the piece with your shirt in tow, unwilling to let your reckless endangerment be for naught; while dragging yourself with one of your bog-heaved arms to avoid getting stuck and taking out the remote from your filling-filled pockets with the other, just in case. Luckily you didn’t remove them while considering nudity; otherwise you wouldn’t have an easy access to the remote. Taking it out, you see that it has just barely enough charge to grow you enough to be noticeable, a small blessing.
As your neighbor is about savor her first bite proper of the pie, you behold her passing body as the fork is raised and turned towards her face, up above where her chubby self bulges from her tank top and where you see her generous ebony fun-bags contained by the scarlet cloth, and then you remember why you risked infiltrating with the pie in the first place.
As you walked by distracted by the scenery, you stumbled across a point where the apple piece you used for footing broke down to a downwards uneven slant, which in return threw you off your balance as you nearly fell on your face. You in return threw your arms forward to stop the fall, balancing your limbs up to your palms to avoid the fall, and only after recovering your step do you notice your mistake.
Briefly through the air and towards her thinly-contained cleavage you see the sauce-coated remote fly from your hand, arching in the air before dropping right onto her exposed left boob.
“Oh SHI-“you yell alarmed, cursing incredulous of your own folly. So much for growing in case of emergency, now your only choice is to drop from the bite, hopefully next to the remote in her jugs; where you had aimed to jump to about two bad plans ago. Unfortunately…
Upon seeing where you stepped on, none of the apple slice could be seen underneath the thick brown sauce at all, the mire which extended a few yards further before falling was apparently possible. Maybe if you tried, you could just barely cross the gap by pulling through furiously and drop down once on the other side before Ms. Summers takes a bite; landing didn’t matter much, just not your hot neighbor’s awaiting mouth.
Without time to spare you move forward…
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