40 years ago, a mysterious masked stranger committed an unthinkable crime in my hometown. He hit the mayor's daughter in the face with a pie.
The night it happened, four men, including my father, swore that they would track down the masked man and avenge the girl, even if it took their entire lives. None of the men would rest until justice was served.
20 years later, my father died. He passed his oath on to me. Since then, I have been on the road, hunting, searching, waiting, and hoping. I've got a pie with that masked stranger's name on it.
The pie is apple.
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Still looking for my antidiluvian baby