The wolf is back

I felt like a zombie. Some unknown force seized me. I surrendered to it's will. I was Anakin bowing to the emperor. It was pie! The smell was celestial, beckoning me forth. The fragrance was coming from the diner I had been at the previous day. The fumes were unmistakably cherry and they wafted up to my nostrils, exciting my entire frame. It was as if I had been out at sea for years, starved and ravenous, and I reached a cherry pie island of salvation. The streets were black as if a huge hand had dropped a veil over watershed heights. The moon shone dimly; it was fat and yellow like butter. I heard the antsy bustling of people. I peeked my head out the window and what I saw confirmed what I had heard, and smelled. There was a glowing from the diner and people were standing in line for what could only be pie. I went down to see what the hell was going on. There were people lining the inside and outside of the restaurant--and there he was, standing in line, what I thought had been an apparition, and what I am convinced still is an illusion: the wolf man. The people in line were bunched together except at the space where he stood. People grimaced at him, lidded their eyes. There was an air of both nervousness and suspicion. He got his piece of pie and handed it to me, cherry. I was grateful. He was stoic. He disappeared.