Hestia, Greek goddess of the hearth, was chatting with her brother Hades. They could see me baking an apple pie in Missouri from their perch on Mount Olympus.
”Jesus, I hate her,” Hestia sighed. “She’s so smug about her apple pie.”
“Jesus?” Hades asked, "What does 'Jesus' mean?"
"I don't know. It's some slang humans use. Still, look at her, thinking she's so good at pies. Let's mess with her."
Hades giggled, gestured, and suddenly the properties of water on Earth changed so that the four tablespoons of water that have always been sufficient for a double crust were no longer enough.
"Ha HAH!" Hestia laughed, "Look at her, all confused. 'Durr, this was enough water last time.' Now she's putting the dough in the refrigerator for thirty minutes to rest. There is no WAY that pie crust will work."
Back on Earth, I asked Alexa to set a timer for thirty minutes.
Hestia demanded Hades find out who I was talking to. Hades got on line and told her that Alexa is an in-home assistant that people use, sometimes, to set timers, and the she is not actually Greek.
When the timer went off I assembled the pie. I knew it was doomed, so I didn't even bother making a lattice. I stuck it in the oven and had Alexa set another timer for the first thirty minutes.
Hestia cackled and whispered to my Alexa, "Alexa, cancel all timers."
"Canceling all timers," Alexa obediently whispered back.
Luckily, after I cleaned up the kitchen I asked Alexa how much time was left.
"You have no timers."
"FUCK." I said. Hades and Hestia high-fived.
I yelled, "Alexa, SET A TIMER for ... for ... (sigh) fifteen minutes!"
"Setting timer for -"
"Oh shut up." I was mad. I was even madder a minute later after I accidentally knocked the whipped cream canister off the top shelf of the refrigerator, and it fell on my kitchen floor, popped its cap, and the nozzle broke off.
"DAMN. IT." Then I set about to fix it, since Gary had said he had been looking forward to Apple Pie with Whipped Cream.
I put the canister in the sink, pushed the nozzle back on, and got a faceful of propellant. And the nozzle fell off.
Hestia snorted, "Whippets! Just say no to drugs!"
Hades said, "Nice one! I didn't even see you do that."
"Huh? I thought you did that." Then they both doubled over laughing when they realized the whipped cream was entirely my fault.
So here is my pie. No lattice. The edges are burnt because the crust protector didn't go on at the right time. No whipped cream to hide it. And frankly, that is pie sand around the edges, not pie crust.
Cursed. Cursed pie. No more pies for me.