Milo and the Blackberry Pies

            by Alina Schmake-Mahl

 

Milo was a silly boy.  He often did things very backwards.  He wore his shoes on his ears, his sweaters as pants, and a bow tie as a belt.  He ate dinner in the morning, and breakfast at 9:15 pm.  Sometimes he even slept all day and stayed awake at night. 

 

 

One day Milo’s mother decided that she wanted to bake 6 pies.  The store was only a few blocks away, so she told Milo to go there for her. Milo often forgot what he was supposed to buy, and brought the wrong thing home. 

She said to Milo, “Milo, remember what I tell you to buy.  I need one pound of butter.”

“Yes momma,” Milo said, happy to get out of the house. 

Milo walked out of the house, and closed the door.  He was very happy with himself because he usually left the door wide open.  Milo had gotten half way down the block when his mother burst out of the door and yelled for Milo to come back. 

“Milo, you need money. Here’s three dollars and 75 cents.  Now you make sure you don’t drop any of it ok?”

“Yes Momma.”

“What are you going to buy?”

“One pound of butter.” Milo replied, smiling from ear to ear. 

As Milo walked, he tried very hard to remember what he needed to buy.  He juggled his coins, saying “Butter. Butter. Butter,” every time he caught a coin.  But quickly, Milo’s train of thought chugged away.

 

 

“Butter, butter butter butter, , broder. Broder broder broder broder brother, brother, brother brother, brother sister.  Sister sister sister sister, Twister.  Twister Twister Twister Twister Blister.  Blister Blister Blister Blister…”

By this time, Milo had arrived at the Grocery store. He scuttled up to the man behind the counter, and asked him, “Where are the blister pads?”

Milo found the blister pads, and was about to pay for them when he saw a big carton of blackberries.  When he saw the blackberries he thought of blackberry pie.  You can’t make blackberry pie with blister pads, thought Milo. 

Now what did my Mother want me to buy for the pie?  So, Milo went back through his mind.  Blister, blister, Twister.  Twister, sister.  Sister, Brother. Brother, Broder.  Broder, Butter.

“I need a pound of Butter.” He shouted. 

 

 

Milo finally bought the butter, and even had 25 cents left over to buy a candy. By the time he walked out of the store, the sun had gotten high in the sky. It was so hot that he could see the sweat evaporating off his skin.  Milo wondered how he could keep the butter cold in all the heat.  When the hot sun was on his head, a hat made it cooler.  So, Milo put the butter under his hat to shade it from the sun. 

“There,” Milo said. “Now the butter will stay cold, and my head won’t get sunburned.”

 

                            

 

As Milo walked down the road, a tiny drip of butter started rolling down his neck.  Then, a little droplet slid down his left cheek.  A small stream trickled over his eyelash, then his eyelid, and finally down his chin. 

Milo realized, when he ran, he got hotter.  So, he had to walk very very slowly and then the butter would stay cool.  Milo did just that: lifting one leg and gently placing his foot on the ground, an inch in front of the other. 

 

 

Milo arrived at home, satisfied that he had saved the butter with all of his clever ideas.

“Mother, here’s your butter.” He said happily when he entered the house.

“Where?”

“Right here.” Said Milo, and gracefully removed his hat from his head.  Nothing was there.  Instead, Milo just had sticky, sticky hair. 

“O Milo, you silly boy.”

          Milo’s mother really wanted to make those pies, so she walked over to the store herself.  She bought the butter, and ran home as fast as she could to make sure the butter didn’t melt.

Milo’s mother decided to make two blackberry pies, but also two cherry and two peach.  She cut up the fruit, and as she did, she said to Milo, “You watch how I cut up the fruit.  I make good pie filling.”

Then she mixed in the sugar and flour to make the dough.  She said, “this is the same dough as my mother made and my grandmother.  You watch how I make these pies.  These are very good pies.”

 

 

Milo’s mother baked the pies and put them in the oven.  They filled the whole house with delicious smells.     

“Mother, those pies sure smell good.  When do I get to eat some?” Milo asked hungrily.

          “Well Milo, they need to bake for fifty minutes, then cool, and then you can eat a big juicy slice”

          After fourty-eight minutes the pies were finally done.  Milo’s mother took all the pies and gingerly placed them on the back porch to cool off.  She looked at the pies and lined them all up in a straight line.

“Milo, these pies need to cool out on the porch, don’t let birds get them.  See where these pies are?”

“Yes mama,” Milo replied.

“You watch how you step on these pies.  You hear me?”

“Yes mama.”

 

 

Milo sat and watched the pies. He flipped flies away and watched to make sure birds didn’t come and nibble on the pies. Milo watched those pies.  Milo looked at the delicious pies, and then he looked at his feet.  He thought about how his mother said, “you watch where you step in those pies.” Well, I guess my mother wants me to step in those pies. 

He got his foot good and ready, and stepped in the middle of the first blackberry pie.  Milo pulled his sticky foot out, and licked of all the pie.  The he stepped, fwop, into the 2^nd. He squished it around, pulled it out and licked off all the pie.  There he went, to all 6 pies: right through the top crust, through the filling, down to the bottom crust and then he licked off his foot.   

 

 

When he got to the last one he said, “I watched myself, I watched myself step in every single pie.”

Milo laid down on the porch and fell asleep, one foot still covered with filling and crust. 

A little while later his mother came home. She looked at the destroyed pies, and she looked at his foot and she started sweeping him off the porch.  He woke up and said, “but mama you told me to watch how I step in those pies.” 

“O milo, you are such a silly boy. As punishment you have to clean up the mess you made.”

          Without even a complaint Milo mopped all of the filling he’d spilled, and threw away all of the crust. 

 

Milo’s mother was very frustrated with him.  He had completely ruined all six of the pies.  The pies couldn’t be eaten, so Milo’s mother decided she needed to make new pies.  She ran to the store and bought a new pound of butter.  Then she went into the garden and picked peaches, cherries and berries.  She cleaned all of the fruit and then she said to Milo, “You watched me chop of this fruit, so now you help me.”

“Ok mama.”

Milo chopped up that fruit in perfect little slices.

“What’s next mama?”

“You watched me make the dough, so now you help me make the dough.”

“Ok Mama,” and Milo made great dough.  It wasn’t too sticky and it wasn’t too dry.

The second set of pies were finally finished.  These pies were even more perfect than the first set.  There was the perfect amount of fruit in each one, and the dough fit perfectly across the top.  After baking for fifty minutes they came out of the oven, smelling even better than the first batch. 

“Milo, these pies need to cool, and I’m putting them outside again.  Don’t even think about stepping in them.”

“Ok mama.”

Milo sat patiently outside, simply watching the pies.  He dozed off for a little while, but then he went back to the pie watching.  After two hours the pies were cool enough to eat. 

Milo ran to his Mother, “Mama, mama, the pies have cooled down.”

“Ok Milo, you may have one slice.”

Milo’s mother cut him a heaping slice and placed it on a clean plate. Milo took a giant bite, and realized it was the most delicious pie he’d ever tasted.  It was so much better than the one he’d watched his mother make. 

Milo took a second big bite, and suddenly spilled onto his pants. Milo’s mother smiled, knowing no matter how many mistakes Milo made, he didn’t mean to do them. 

“O Milo, you’re such a silly boy.”