[Well into October, Ned starts to feel grim
A reminder of Autumn's old pang eats at him
The leaves changing colors, red, yellow and brown
Serve to bring the resident Pie Maker down
But what is the reason? you ask, mildly wary
A dislike of ghosts, or something more scary?
Perhaps a less silly approach, if you please
Halloween's on its way, and the facts are these:

When Ned was nine years, thirty-four weeks, seventeen minutes and four seconds old, he received the one and only postcard he would ever get from his father while attending the Longborough School for Boys in North Thrush. It came on Hallow's Eve, a holiday ripe for the picking by children decked up as witches and warlocks, ghouls and goblins - but the only thing more terrifying than the idea of whatever mythical creatures might be lurking in the dark was the pre-printed message on the back of the postcard: We've moved.

Young Ned tracked the origins of the postcard to a small house in a pleasant neighborhood, bedecked with festive decorations and Jack-O-Lanterns. Dressed as a ghost in a sheet he sought to ascertain his wayward father's whereabouts and, hopefully, come home. But what emerged from the little white door in the front was not a welcoming party, but his father with two new sons and a brand-new wife, preparing for an evening of Trick-or-Treating.

The last thing Ned's father said to him was a genial Happy Halloween as he handed the boy dressed as a ghost a Honeycomb Chew and walked away with his family - for the first time that evening Ned felt as though he were one with his chosen costume.]

...okay. So. I didn't want to have to make an announcement, but since there's been an increase in requests for...thematically seasonal pies, I'm putting up a list outside the diner and on the network.

[The list itself reads, in perfectly legible script:

Chess Pie
Pecan Pie
Apple-Cranberry Pie
Tart Cherry Pie
Dutch Apple Pie
Triple-Pear Pie
Sweet Potato Pie
Maple Cream Pie

Observant residents may note that pumpkin does not appear on Ned's list, as he is vehemently opposed to everything that it stands for. Out of frame a dog whines, and the Pie Maker stoops to pat Derby on the head before continuing.]

I know we have the- uh, capacity and ability to have all kinds of fresh fruit year-round- [And not just because he can touch dead things and bring them back to life.] -but it's kinda how we do things at The Pie Hole, so...it's...how I'm doing them here. I also know it's pretty easy to ask the kitchen to give you a slice of pie, but I thought I might offer lessons in case anyone...wanted to learn. How to bake.

[There is a long, awkward pause before he decides he's had enough social interaction, and cuts the feed.]