Bye, Bye Miss American Pie(s)

One month ago we'd experienced the raid by a hord of raccoons. This past Labor Day weekend holiday we were hit again. This time it was a different thief: a bi-ped with biceps! (Ugly creature, I might add. The kind only a mother could love!)
The story has its beginnings in a small town south of us named Waterloo. A marital "disagreement" on the home premises of Shawn W. precipitated nephew Glenn S. to back over Shawn's apple tree. Since the punishment must fit the crime, apple pies were demanded in return. Glenn nor wife, Donna, were bakers. After all, Donna didn't ram the apple tree to begin with. Why should she bake the pies?
Sitting around the campfire late Saturday evening, after a heavy day of drinking and boating on the lake, in a drunken stupor I offered my services as pie baker, extra-ordinaire. Oh my, stupid me. Little did I realize on Sunday morning anyone took me seriously the night before. Arriving bright and early came the deposit of apples; Glenn was to provide the crust, Shawn the apples, and me the labor. All to be done by the 1:00 p.m. boat departure. Ultimately, the pies were finished and resting comfortably on the kitchen counter. Nothing like the smell of warm apple pies wafting through the house. Which brought us to the second problem.....son Scott realized we were not claiming ownership of the dessert. Rather, we were to relinquish the property to the Sandheinriches by dinnertime that evening. . Well, all that afternoon on the lake the pies were being held hostage. After all, possession, by law, mandates ownership does it not? At the end of the day the boats came into the docks. Everyone hungry for the evening meal. Our boat arrived first, followed by Glenn and the others. The gang unpacked the Cobalt's contents and headed to the house. Upon entering the kitchen, what to our surprise the pies were gone. Nada, zilch, nothing at all. Everyone's thoughts went immediately to the Sandheinriches. Of course, they had to have STOLEN the prize. But how? They arrived in the dock after us, didn't they? A recon group set out to their place, searching for the booty. Still no luck. Their troops denied any wrongdoings. No pies there! A second recon group went out and still no pies. At our place revenge was being planned. Alexis, a pretty 12 yr old, rounded up 7 rolls of toilet paper and thought we should teepee their home and make banners: PIE OR DIE. Sounded like a game plan to me. But everyone knows that revenge is best when they least expect it, so we postponed the raid for a later date.
Later that evening, sitting around their campfire, lo! and behold! the pies miraculously appeared out of thin air. With ice cream, no less! Finally we heard the confessions of the felon--Shawn. The sneaky twit had exited their boat, ran to their home and then snaked his way through the neighborhood to our home undetected. He grabbed the pies and scampered back to their place all the while losing his britches as he scurried about. We have no photos of him absconding with the booty, but we did manage a re-enactment of the lecherous felony. Where are the cops when you need them???