“What’s in this pie?”

The man stares at his wife with a simple expression. “It’s just pie, darling.”

“No, what’s in this pie?” She asks again.

“Well, I don’t know, apples, sugar—“

He’s cut off by her aggressively stabbing her pie with her fork. The man slowly looks up at her, and nearly vomits when he sees her face; an unearthly color, foam spilling from her mouth.

“What’s in this pie?” The woman, once again, asks.

“It’s just pie, darling.” The man replies, looking back down at his and shoving a forkful into his mouth. He spits out a nail and continues chewing.