"Apple pie, apple pie, apple pie," I chanted as I paced back and forth in the kitchen, thinking of ingredients to put in this magical pie that's supposed to be spectacular and all awesome for tomorrow's home economics class.

"I heard pie! Where is it?" Spencer asked as he entered the appartment, throwing his jacket on the couch and running over to find the pie that doesn't exist.

"Some place in the cabinets and the fridge and that bag of apples."

"You didn't make it yet?"

"Nope," I answered.

"Man! And why exactly did you allow me to enter this vacinity of the house hold if there is in fact no pie?" He threw his arms in the air and crossed his eyes.

"I don't know how and no, you can't help me!" I answered the question I knew he was going to ask.

"Fine then, I won't help you. But, if I were an apple pie, my first ingredient would be sugar."

"I said no helping! But, since you're here...where do we keep the second ingredient?" I questioned.

"In the cupboard, next to the flour in the container labeled Cinnamon. I cannot tell you anymore!" He yelled, flailing his arms in my face. "Figure it out yourself!"

"Fine," I said, grabbing the cinnamon and sugar.

"But, make sure you mix the ingredient next to the cinnamon with your first ingredient, some salt, butter, and a bit of water and then kneed it vigorously until it's perfectly pie crust worthy."

"Got it. Flour, salt, butter, water, kneed for crust. Mix apples with cinnamon and sugar and fill it," I repeated the steps out loud.

"Exactly! And look at that! You figured that out all by yourself! Good job sis!" he shouted, running into his room.

"Whatcha gonna do?" I yelled.

"Take pictures of my toes and sell them on the internet as pictures of Paris Hilton's Chihuaha," he replied.

"Ew! Good luck with that!"

"Mmhmm!"

I chopped up some apples after peeling them. Then, I threw them in a bowl with a few pinches of cinnamon and a cup of sugar. I'm not even sure that's a safe amount of sugar to put in this pie. Oh well! I don't have to judge it!

I let the apples sit on the counter in the bowl to soak up the sugary stuff.

All of a sudden, I got this thurst that...of course...can only be filled by drinking. I ran to the fridge and got out a bottle of Mountain Wonder soda. I went to pour it in a glass, but accidentally knocked it into the bowl of apples.

"Oh man!" I shouted. "Ya stupid Mountain Wonder! You're so...stupid! Yeah! That's right! Stupid Soda is what you are!" I quickly put the bottle back in the fridge and decided to mix the soda in with the apples anyway. Then, I threw some water, flour, salt, and about a half of a stick of butter into another bowl and mixed it up with my hands, which, by the way...is disgusting! It felt so gooey and yucky! Like...a brain! Not that I know what that feels like...

Next, I flattened it out and layed it in a pie pan.

"This needs something..." I thought out loud. Almonds? Walnuts? Gummie Bears? Um...let's try almonds. They seem like a good choice!

I opened the cabinet and tossed some almonds into the bottom of the pan, on top of the bottom layer of pie crust.

Scooping the apples out of the bowl and into the pie crust, I accidentally spilled some on my shirt. I took my finger and swiped it off. I couldn't help but try it out and see if tasted the slightest bit like apple pie filling. It did! Yay!

Last, I layed the top crust on the top (obviously) and poked random holes in it with a fork.

"Hey Spence!" I yelled.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"How long would you reccomend I put you in the oven?"

"Well, Carly...I don't really feel like roasting to death tonight. I think I'll just...oh wait! You mean the me that's gonna taste really good?"

"Yes!"

"I'd say about 25 minutes! And then in the morning, just toss me in for a few minutes to warm me up before the taste test. Make sure I'm golden brown!"

"Thanks Spencer! You're gonna taste great! I hope!"

"Oh, I will!"