We’re obsessed with pie.

Sweet pie, savory pie, vegetarian pie, breakfast pies, dessert pies. Pies filled with scrambled eggs and pies brimming with plump cherries. Pies with one crust, pies with top crust, flaky crust, dense crust, crumbly crust.

I could go on, using every delicious adjective in the dictionary.

My pie fever isn’t a secret, exactly, but I didn’t realize that anyone in the office shared my burning enthusiasm until Emily opened the Rooftop fridge, saw my lunch, and shrieked, “Vegetable pot pie!? Whose is this?!”

I had a tasty little box of microwavable heaven waiting for me, this seductive little whore of a lunchtime gem:

(It’s heaven in a cardboard box. That’s right, even in a cardboard box, even fresh out d’microwave, pie is perfection.I brought another one for lunch today.)

It was then that we discovered the thread that forever shall bind us together.

And, today, I brought a vegetable pot pie for Emily, so that we can exist, for a moment, in perfect, blissed out, pie-freak harmony.

We’ve been talking about pie all morning. Apparently, there are restaurants/cafes in San Francisco that serve ONLY. PIE. I’m new to town, so I’d had no idea. If I’d had, maybe I’d have moved to the Left Coast sooner. Maybe now, I’ll never leave. You know what, Boston? I’m not coming home. There. I said it. I’m not coming home until YOU can PROVE TO ME that you care about pie as much as San Francisco does. Yes, you’ve got your own signature pie, but, frankly Boston? That’s not going to cut it anymore.

My love for pie? Burns too brightly. An eternal flame. For pie.

I’m even thinking of making a Cheetos pie for the Rooftop Fatluck.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Pie.

That’s the sound of 22 hearts, straining against arterial plaque and fatty tissue to beat and squeeze and pump sugar-polluted blood through 22 bloated bodies.

The first annual Rooftop Comedy Fatluck is upon us.

Inspired by the ensuing Thanksgiving gorge-fest and by our hefty heroes at ThisIsWhyYou’reFat.com, our “fatluck” should knock the entirety of the Rooftop staff on our bulbous asses by mid-afternoon on Tuesday.

And the organizers are prepared for that, since we all had to sign a waiver:

So far, the menu includes Chris G’s Bacon-Wrapped Chili Cheese Hot Dog Frito Boat, Annie’s Apple Fritter Pork Buns of Not Steel, SFA’s Buffalo chicken macaroni and cheese with blue cheese crumbles, ranch dip in a fried bread bowl side, and Alex’s Tots Au Gratin.

We’d, of course, love your menu suggestions. Our favorite reader recipe will be made by one of the Rooftop staff, for us all to try. And JUDGE! The winning recipe gets a super-sweet Rooftop prize pack, including a T-shirt. If you can fit your fat turkey gut into it, post tryptophan-atisicm.

Well, I am. New girl, technically. But, at least I’m not that new guy.

At lunchtime today, apparently Rick (the aforementioned new guy) accidentally took someone else’s sandwich from the fridge. A forgivable crime.

From: Rick
Sent: Thu, September 03, 2009 12:04 pm
To: [the entire company]
Subject: Potential Ooops

I fear that I may have pulled the wrong sandwich from the fridge today for lunch.  If this is the case, I am SO SORRY and please let me know who you are so I can make it right.

Thanks,

Rick (the new guy)

It happens. Unfortunately, it also happens that the guy whose sandwich was taken was comedian Alex Koll. And Alex Koll’s sandwich ain’t nothin’ to fuck wit.

From: Alex
Sent: Friday, September 04, 2009 12:11 PM
To: Rick
Cc: [The entire company]
Subject: RE: Potential Ooops

Rick,

It was in fact my sandwich that was mistakenly taken from the fridge.  I applaud the bravery, wisdom and resolve necessary to rise to the occasion and lay bare your transgression. Upon inspection of the sandwich you left in its place, I can understand the mistake: they are in fact eerily similar sandwiches. They are both turkey, both on wheat, both feature a stone-ground mustard.  The bisecting cut and the maroon accents (cranberry?) is where your sandwich diverges from mine, and (along with the absence of jack cheese) are the very details that alerted me to the mix-up.

All this being said, you have taken something I loved and I understand both our need for closure to make this right.  So, as per your wishes, I present a thorough list of demands to serve as reparations for the innocent, yet offending act.  These demands have been culled from a pool of data painstakingly researched with the most up to date crowdsourcing techniques. They are as follows:

1. Piggy-back ride.
2. Milk.
3. Must wear an eye patch with one googly-eye on it.
4. Wear a crown that says “Mimosa King” on it with a picture of a dolphin all day once a month, FOREVER, even at home.
5. Wear the same That Sucks t-shirt for a month.
6. Choreographed dance to ringtone.
7. Create and market a fragrance that smells like the interior of Lee’s Deli.
8. Serve as court “taster” of dubious items in fridge for one week

If, after review and negotiation, none of these items are deemed satisfactory, I will accept your original sandwich as repayment. As the Code Of Hammurabi states “עין תחת עין“  or, “An Eye For an Eye, a lunch for a lunch.”

Warm regards,

Alex

PS
I tried to fit the phrase “Turkey Burglar” into this somehow, but failed.

Its just another Tuesday at Rooftop Comedy.  Each member of the production team sits staring blankly at the computer screen, wondering if time could possibly pass any slower.  Then, a tired and somewhat delirious Emily Heller decides to send out an email in Medieval speak.  Boredom is averted, bursts of laughter fill the room at increasingly close intervals, and the rest my friends, is email history.

Emily H wrote:

GREETINGS from your benevolent overlord!!! The following ASPEN
clips have been programmed into this week’s episodes and need
to be produced. Can we can divide and conquer before Thursday?
Or as they said in ancient times: Thor’s day?

ALL HAIL ME
Emily
P.S. i didn’t get very much sleep last night
_______________________________________

Alex wrote:

Nah.
______________________________________________

Andy wrote:

greetings benevolent editorial lordess,
i’ll do Hawkins through Cummins.

your loyal production slave,
Andy Andyson
_______________________________________

Chris wrote:

greetings from the tribe on the adjacent isle of mordecai,
i shall bestow upon you the clips of ashley through kasher.
i shall require several sacks of grain and two sheep for my work.
may the wind always fill thy sails my friend.

-Chris son of Phil of Mordecai
________________________________________

Andy wrote:

wanna trade a grain for a wood?
___________________________________

Emily H wrote:

ANDY HAS A BONER!!!!!!!!!!

Emily
_____________________________________

Sorry Andy, I need ore. Anybody wanna trade for ore??

Take care.

-Chris
__________________________________

Andy wrote:

I only have wood. Lots of wood.
____________________________________

Emily S wrote:

Betwixt the offers of wool and grain i have found it reasonable to
offer a bit of ore which i hath mined from the veins of the meager
mines of Howardshire. Promise me this: upon bestowing you with the
ore, thou shalt not forge a weapon in carelessness. Young Christopher
son of Philip of Mordecai, make your kin revel in the
righteousness of your craft, for if you disobey me you will be sent to the
gallows. Amen.

-Fair Damsel of the Fortnight
__________________________________

Andy wrote:

The elders proclaim that the Fair Damsel of the Fortnight
receivith this name fore no man dare lie with her longer
than two weeks, or his loins
shall harden like a fresh sword cooling in river swept waters after
having been removed from the flaming forge. Consider thyselves
warned!
__________________________________________

Alex wrote:

And thou shall declare it from the steeples and the mountain tops, the spires and the highest forest branch:

“NERDS!”
_______________________________________________

Emily S wrote:

come one come all ye young lads
and forge thy burning sword betwixt mine legs
________________________________________

Alex wrote:

EMAIL IS AMAZING!!!!
______________________________________

Chris wrote:

fellow procreators beware!  many men have forged their burning swords between the fair damsels legs, which is why the fires burn so hot!  the curse of el clapo, king of spain, hath visited our lady many times.

Take care.

-Chris

——————————————-

Valerie wrote:

Tis the truth, I hath seen her with Lord Isaac from thy castle below.
Thy fires burn!

——————————————-
Andy wrote:

Is the Hoor of Howardshire prepared for the long march to the
battle of the Fords of Arkaig????
We cannot expect to overcome the Clan of Morar without those
steaming loins!!!!

summon her at once!!!!!!!!
__________________________________________

Emily S wrote:

BLAST YOU ALL!!!!!!

these sacred loins possess a power you shalt fail without… Speaketh kindly of mine loins or you will all
revel in the consequences of
your actions! Issac knows not of the forgery – but if he did the
netheregions of his manhood would surely shirvel away like an earthworm trapped atop a cobblestone on a blazing summer day!!!!!

ps fuck you val
_______________________________________

Chris wrote:

witch! burn her!

Take care.

-Chris
_______________________________________

Emily H wrote:

Sims did it with Isaac, I got a daguerrotype of it and shit

Emily
_______________________________________

Andy wrote:

I didn’t get the attachment.
________________________________________

Emily H wrote:

Attention peons once again! This is your queen and overlord! Think not that your blaspheming and debasement has fallen on deaf ears! I hereby announce with great joy the betrothal of the Hoor of Howardshire to Lord Isaac of the lower kingdoms. Dowry was paid in full (five gallons of ox blood). The ceremony will be officiated by Sir Whiskers of the Clan of ZipZap at sunrise!

Emily
________________________________________

Emily S wrote:

I would rather drink five gallons of ox blood than consummate relations with the vile fiend you refer to as “Isaac” from the kingdom downstream.  The wench of zip zap has informed me that his phallus is quite lacking and i am confident it will not withstand the heat emanating within a 5 foot radius from my body.  This is a mistake of cosmic proportions and i request that the overlord reconsider.
__________________________________________

Emily H wrote:

The overlord does not cater with reconsiderations!!! That is without some sort of compensatory bribes… that is, an iced decaf vanilla latte from peets each day this week!!!! Sir Whiskers will stand for no less and will summon his feline wilderfriends should you fail in this!!!

Emily

p.s. ISAAC GOT A BIG DICK! I GOT A BIG PUSSY! WHO GOT A BIG PUSSY?
__________________________________________

Valerie wrote:

Who shall take the place of Sir Isaac at the Fair Lady’s betrothal?
Perhaps Sir Jester dressed as a large feline from the kingdom of Zip Zap?
_________________________________________

Emily H wrote:

I believe you are referring to Sir Whiskers…

Emily
_______________________________________

Annie wrote:

You lest not forget Duke Bubbles.

“Yes there is. Next thing you’re gonna say is there’s no ‘Z’ in ‘penis.’”