Imagine if you will, a small community pie bake-off.
The pies are lovely. The bakers are motherly-types who have entered (and won) the small Fourth of July contest for years on end.
But wait.
There's a new contestant. A stranger. Nobody knows her name, but her bright red lipstick, June Cleaver pearls and stilettos set her apart from the others.
She's entered four pies -- one in each category: fruit, berry, apple and cream.
Her pies look amazing.
The regular contestants begin wringing their hands nervously. Beads of sweat form on the upper lip of the baker who has won the apple pie category for the past five years straight.
The tension is palpable.
The stranger is calm and cool. She appears confident and relaxed.
The judges taste her creations. Amazing. Simply amazing. The judges have never tasted such good pie. First place. First place in all four categories. These are the best pies ever.
Who is this baker?
The judges read the winning entry cards. On each one, next to 'Name of Baker' they read:
The Pie Shark.
This is my goal. My quest. To become The Pie Shark.
