The Whole Pie

Charlie was certain that the waiter farted just as he was leaving their table. "Molly", Charlie hissed, "Did you hear that? The waiter just farted." "Ugg, Charlie, no he didn't.  It was probably just his shoe, or your chair," Molly responded in disgust. "No, Molly, I know what I heard.  Ewww, and the smell, it smells like eggs.,"  "Stop it, Charlie!" Molly hissed back. "The people behind you are eating huevos rancheros.  Be quiet, you're going to cause a scene."

Charlie was fanning his face now and making gagging noises.  Molly was the color of a tomato at this point and tried to slide under the table.  The waiter and the manager had returned in a hurry, asking what was the problem. "Like you don't know," Charlie snapped, "give us our bill, we're leaving."  Molly was the first one out the door, leaving Charlie to quickly pay the bill.  Her demeanor was that of a cornered badger by the time Charlie made it to the car.

It was a silent ride home.

Three scrapes and a sprain

Daniel finally emerged from the hole he had been digging.  It was a pretty tough go this time.  He wasn't able to actually reach the top lip from standing on the bottom.  A little jump gave him enough height to reach, but he was sure that next time it would take more than a little jump.

Since he had installed the auto-dumping mechanism at the top of the hole, emptying the buckets had become much easier.  A few pulls up the rope and the bucket would empty on its own, to then fall back down to the bottom.

Daniel emerged from the hole, but scraped his knee for a third time.  He stood up straight, stretched his back and ambled over to the stream.  A quick splash on his face gave him an invigorating rush.  He sank to the patch of lush grass before him and enjoyed the sunny day.  Daniel breathed in deeply and looked out upon the snow capped mountains off in the distance.  The only sound was that of a cricket, somewhere far off, and the gentle burble of the aforementioned creek.

He sat and enjoyed his environment for several hours, but began to feel guilty.  A groan escaped his lips, and Daniel rose to his feet and trudged back to the hole.  He had been digging for about two weeks now, but wasn't exactly sure how much longer he had to go.

Dropping in, Daniel descended the six four drop, but this time a sharp pain gripped his ankle.  A stabbing jar brought vomit to the top of his throat, but he kept it down.  He picked up his shovel and started digging again.

The clap of thunder brought Daniel out of his repetitive motion.  The sudden realization of darkness startled him and he stopped digging.  It only took a matter of seconds before Daniel realized the hole had gotten too deep.  His sprained ankle didn't help matters either.  The thought to cry out for help briefly passed through his mind, but his eight-mile walk from town demolished any prospect of a hearing ear.

So Daniel started digging again.