A little known piece of history is that ever since George Washington helped found the United States, he also helped found something just as vital: A pie judging contest. This elusive pie judging contest was like the Olympics for bakers around the world, just held more often. This particular year it was to be held in an empty, nondescript office building in London, not too far away from a certain Wendy's, along with the home of one Gregory Patrick. In that certain home of Gregory Patrick, was a man just arriving home from an exciting event at the Wendy's mentioned previously. He opened his door, took his hat off, and sat on his comfortable chair after checking to make sure he wouldn't fall in. This man, one Gregory Patrick, was on the phone with his best friend Howard, and he was also about to receive an unexpected visitor. 

"Howard?" Gregory spoke.

"Yes? What is it?" Howard said from the other side of the phone call.

"I'm going to have to call you back," Gregory stated, after noticing a strange man with a goatee in his kitchen, eating a sandwich. 

"Oh? What's happened now? This is quite bothersome."  

"Well, Satan is in my kitchen for one. For another, I'm pretty sure he's stolen my leftover turkey sandwich!" Gregory said with the slightest bit of outrage. 

Satan gave a thumbs up, and with a full mouth said, "ann id iff deewicious." Gregory frowned.

"Oi, I reckon you should probably get off the call then," Howard stated, and then hung up before Gregory even got another word in. 

It should be mentioned, of course, that Satan was indeed eating Gregory's turkey sandwich. Turkey was especially one of his favourites, right after roast beef. One might say that the devil eats meat because he's heartless towards animals, but it can also be stated that God has been known to enjoy a meatball sub from time to time. 

Satan, or Lucy, as Gregory knew him, took a moment to swallow the sandwich and regain his composure. 

"Greg, I have a plan," Lucy spoke up in his uncharming midwestern accent. 

"Well get on with it then, you ate my sandwich, I deserve to be told quickly." While there was some truth to what Gregory said, it is well-known that the devil rarely makes deals that go the way we think they will. So of course, even though he ate Gregory's sandwich, Lucy was in no way planning to tell this in a timely manner, and took another bite. 

"El oo see, hair's ish high aching conhes, ann oo hah too udge," Lucy spoke with his mouth full.

"What?" Gregory was rather confused.  Satan swallowed.

"I said, 'Well you see, there's this pie making contest, and you have to judge,' was it so hard to translate?" Satan retorted. 

"I mean, it kind of was," Gregory spoke, before he was cut off. 

"No more. Anyway, it should be a fairly easy job for you," Satan motioned towards Gregory's slightly larger stomach. Gregory furrowed his brows. 

"Oh please, Greg. It's not that hard to do because the entire system is rigged."

"Rigged? What do you mean?" Gregory asked.

"Well," Lucy began, "We're expecting a couple guests to show up. One of their pies will be full of enough poison to kill fifteen people. We announce them the winners, their winning pie is broadcast everywhere. It's ineffable! People will go crazy for this pie, eat it, and it'll kill a good chunk of the population for you!"

"Kill the population?"

"Of course, the bad part. It'll help the strong people overcome and help us save the world, yaddah yaddah," Satan lied. It was like a second nature to him.

"How do we know it'll not kill those people?"

"Because Greg," Lucy looked him in the eye, "Only the weak  give in to temptation."

~~~~~

"So the fate of the world rests on a pie contest? Doesn't that seem a little weird to you?" Sister Marian spoke to Leroy, as he was explaining their plan for the day. They were driving down the road on their way to a bakery, very well known for its chocolate. 

"Well, yeah, but that's just the plan," Leroy responded with a shrug, "Anyway, we should be at breakfast soon."

"Breakfast? At a chocolate place?" Sister Marian questioned. "Wait, is this where the chocolate cake comes in?" She asked, a bit of excitement in her voice.

"I think you mean chocolate crêpes,  you must have read the itinerary wrong. And we aren't just going for breakfast, you see, we're picking up a, ahem, special ingredient," Leroy explained.

"Oh," Sister Marian spoke up, trying to hide her disappointment. 

"I mean," Leroy began as their car began to slow, "I suppose  we could sample some cake as well..." He trailed off.

"Are you sure?" Sister Marian asked. "I wouldn't want to get you in trouble with your lower downs or anything."

"As long as your higher ups don't mind you eating cake with a demon, I suppose not."

"Fine, then. Say, why are we stopped?" 

"These blasted cars in front of us?" Leroy responded rhetorically. "I knew there was supposed to be a traffic jam, I just didn't suppose it would happen to us." 

"Well, this is an unfortunate turn of events," Sister Marian stated.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Leroy rolled his eyes.

"You're welcome," Sister Marian responded, oblivious to the sarcasm. 

Leroy glanced back at her, not sure if she was serious or not. She was, of course, and that was that.