“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.