onetouch: (a sensitive call)
[personal profile] onetouch
[The video opens to a familiar scene, though perhaps not from this particular communication device. Most people know Ned the pie maker as nothing more, and that is, after all, how he prefers it. But a distressed-looking Ned in prison-attire hunches over his comm and tries to consider very calmly what to say.

He's been arrested after this incident at the Pie Hole, and since it appeared to be a poisoning, and since Ned hand-bakes all of his pies by hand, it left the police little choice but to arrest the pie man. And so here he sits, at a total loss for words. Until--]


Good people of this City--it's Ned here. I think, by now, quite a few of you know me as the pie maker. I've baked pie for each one of you when you've arrived and I've done so out of the kindness of my baker's heart.

There's been a terrible mistake. Pie is meant to cause... happiness, nostalgia; that hint of a smile that's private and only meant for yourself, and your pie.

It was certainly never meant to cause [He hisses out his next word, clearly upset] death.

[The rattling of bars and the clomp of heavy boots comes over the audio now, and Ned's eyes widen.] I've been framed, and I can prove it.

[The video comes to an end, responses will be icly delayed.]
onetouch: (this is who i am)
[personal profile] onetouch
As... anxious and uneasy as patriotism can make me, like roombas or. Tree-shaped air-fresheners. They don't even smell like trees... It's meant to bring people together, supposedly, and the consensus is that it goes great with pie. Which is why two weekends from now I'm going to be holding a patriotic cook-out on the roof of the Pie Hole. There might even be music. Patriotic... music.

[A very brief smile flickers across Ned's face but that's the best he can do.] I realize most of you look forward to... burgers and, and hot dogs on such holidays. I'm afraid tofu dogs and boca burgers are more my speed, however, I'd gladly give anyone grill space who wants to B.Y.O.M. Bring your own meat, obviously. Or maybe it wasn't so obvious, I wasn't sure which is why I--expounded.

I'm not very good at these things. Social things. As people who know me, already know. But I want to make sure anyone who doesn't have a place to go Memorial Day weekend has one to go to now. And what better place than the Pie Hole?

private to Jack Bauer. )

Oh and, there will be wine. And, beer. But feel free to B.Y.O.B. as well. I think you're all familiar with that acronym, at least...

ETA: I almost forgot, Zatanna and myself will be hosting a pie-eating contest that same Sunday afternoon. Prizes are TBA.
onetouch: (Default)
[personal profile] onetouch
[Though this is a video post, the feed does not show Ned. Instead the frame is fixed to the Pie Hole kitchen window, taking in and projecting the dining floor as well as the street beyond. The Sun is just coming up and not many people are out. The neon sign usually proclaiming the Pie Hole as open for business cannot be seen, nor is it casting its neon glow. It's before opening, and Ned sounds nervous. Perhaps, more nervous than usual.]

E-everyone retreats to... comfort in times of distress. For some, that means... pie.

For others. [He stops and pauses. A few little sounds can be heard of tidying up. Dish-washing, floor sweeping. Ned is lost deep in thought.] For others, that could mean any source of familiarity. Or what once was, familiar. I'm not sure I know myself what that means, anymore.

[He hastily blurts the last bit out, it's obviously not intentional and so he moves on, quickly.] Even things one once feared can sometimes present as a comfort in these... times. Like with my mini magic show or--or the new gluten-dairy-free menu here, at the Pie Hole. I never would have considered doing either before. Especially...not without Chuck.

But we all do... different things. In different places. It would seem even a pie-maker can learn a few new tricks. [That didn't really keep up with the metaphor but he doesn't seem to notice, sighing audibly.]

No one came in last month. That's never happened before. Here, or. Anywhere. It's the Pie Hole. It's comfort; it's. It's home.

[and how does he go on without begging. oh boy, he is one pathetic and sad, lonely pie maker.] There are even some St. Patrick's Day specials. I'm... not even Irish. Oh! Oh. ...Oh. And, don't forget to set your clocks forward an hour on Sunday. Spring Forward. [The feed closes without ever showing Ned's face.]
onetouch: (this is the dorkiest icon in the world)
[personal profile] onetouch
[Those who know Zatanna will recognize the backdrop as her living room. Ned is standing all of his 6-foot-3 for once, without hunching over, a black cape adorning his ever-somber wardrobe. A magician's top hat sits on the table before him, and he's looking at it as though it may bite him. He speaks to the hat, occasionally glancing off-screen, but he's the only one in the frame.]

I realize how foolish it is to be afraid of something as intangible as... magic, but it isn't a rational sort of fear at all. It's one based on trauma and. [He swallows.] Abandonment. However, I agree.

I agree it's time to shed this irrational fear and step into the carefully-rationed daylight of Not-New York. And that's why, for the first time since the age of nine, I'm going to do a little magic.

...S-since I don't have a volunteer to saw in half, I thought I might start. Smaller. [He picks up the hat and looks out at his "audience" now, decidedly more terrified than he had been a moment ago.] Right. Most of you know me as the pie maker...

[And then he taps the hat twice, places it face down on the table now, and then pulls it back up. A persimmon pie appears underneath it on the table now, how curious.] But now... you know my secret.

[He actually smiles, a real genuine smile and not the one you might be accustomed to seeing him wear. Read: It's much goofier.] Now you see me...

[the feed cuts, then opens back up to a much smaller frame of just the hat and the pie. Ned's hand can be seen placing the hat over the pie and it promptly disappears again as he picks the hat back up, with a little ~showmanship~ if you will. then the feed cuts again, this time for good.]
onetouch: (❦do you think we'll be in love forever)
[personal profile] onetouch
Have you ever not thought of something so hard it came into being? I find myself... not at all myself, lost in a neverending loop of should-have-been. [a big sigh] Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind, selfish to be selfless; do only what the moment dictates and not allow yourself to get ahead--I do hope you all enjoyed Thanksgiving at the Pie Hole, but I have to close for a few days. I am sorry to anyone who might find this... inconvenient, but a pie maker needs sleep as much as the next person, quite possibly more.

[He's thoughtful, turning a few things over in his head before;] My Pie Hole needs a waitress. I need help. That is what community is all about? ...Help?

Please help me find help to help me, Cityzens. I think that's it for now.
onetouch: (a sensitive call)
[personal profile] onetouch
So, I didn't vote yesterday.

Does that make me a poor American? And I do mean 'poor' in the sense of not-good and not as the opposite of 'rich.' I don't usually watch TV and yesterday was full of-- I shouldn't make excuses. I'm a bad American, aren't I? At the very least a poor Cityzen. As an entrepreneur and small business owner I really should have put more thought and--

No use dwelling, is there?

[The tone switches from debilitating worry to upbeat and informative like only Ned is capable of. He clears his throat.]

A certain birdy may have told me Pie Hole Thanksgiving was... nice, last year, but nearly as nice as it should have been. I'm proposing a tradition. I know that traditions are supposed to be old, weathered, and cherished and not new and just-out-of-the-oven, but bear with me. Please?

For those of us who miss home, it provides a bit of nostalgia. A sense of home, and comfort. And comfort as its usually used, to describe something cozy and warm like your mother's old sweater. Or pie. Not comfort in the sense of confinement and... Quasimodo in a belltower.

[Another throat-clear.] Does anyone here know anything about... bees? Certainly there must be an apiculturist among our ranks.
onetouch: (❦sad inside in this life)
[personal profile] onetouch
[Ned looks concerned, leaning just a little too close to the feed, haven't you missed his constant neuroses, City?]

Oh, no no no no... This wasn't in the plan at-- [concern turns to cheer and he smiles, wanly, cocking his head] I mean to say, Hello! [a wide wave, then panning down to Digby, who barks and gives a little doggy-smile of his own.]

Or hello again, a-as it were. We're really very happy to be back, though... well, no 'though's will make any difference, will they? I'll just enjoy this time while it's presented to me in the present, presently.

[his smile widens just a bit as he looks up at a very familiar sight: The Pie Hole.] I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't still here, old friend.

Every Batman needs his very own cave. I suppose that's why there's only one. [his smile falters] ..Oh.

[a nervous almost-laugh.] I should have quit while I wasn't-quite-ahead. Hello again-again, I'm Ned. And this is Digby. And this is The Pie Hole, but you all knew that already.

...you all know the Pie Hole, don't you? Surely you've had more time to get to know it than well - me.

[Hopeful smile, half-hoping he gets indundated with personal questions, half-hoping he'll get the opportunity to hide under a rock and never come out.]

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