Humble pie is the dessert for the night. Follow the recipe, it’s detailed just right. Mix a cup of gratitude and a teaspoon of humility. In a bowl with a spoon, stir it vigorously
A dash of respect with a pinch of modesty, empathetic sprinkles to top the novelty. Transfer into a pan. In the oven, it goes. Let the perceptive aroma make your senses explode.
In an hour it will be ready then it will need to sit. Let it cool down on a rack for the flavors to permit. Now it’s ready to consume but, you’re not having a slice? Your palette’s too dignified for my humble pie?
Let me offer you a hand cram it down your fucking throat. Flouting your chemoreceptor is the only antidote. My pie does not digest easy. It does not go down smooth, with the pride you display, that radiates through.