We had a security guard at the front gate.  She was older and was a roughneck … leathery skin, balding, no teeth, smoked two packs a day, wore glasses thick as my hand.  But she was cheerful.

Every morning when I pulled up … “Geeewed marnin!”

“Hello Lorinda”

For her birthday one year, we all pitched in to buy her a pie.  We sent Peggy to get the pie.  She went the cheap route and bought a pie that was discounted.  We gave it to Lorinda who proceeded to cut into it and partake.  She gave us each a piece too.

Lorinda ate it up like a cow eats hay.  I took a bite and nearly barfed.  The cherries in it had the texture of plastic.  The crust was rubber-like.  I shuffled over to Peggy and leaned into her ear.

“Where the hell did you buy this artifact?”

“The baker said he messed up on it.”

I grabbed the box the pie came in and looked for a date.  It was made a month ago.

I looked up to tell Lorinda to stop eating, but it was too late. She was snarfing down her second piece.

A few days later, Lorinda was unexpectedly admitted to the hospital for kidney failure.  She died shortly after.  Peggy felt horrible.

Good ‘ol Lorinda.