T'G III: the Syrups of Vanishing

[desperance]

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white;
But no such roses see I in her cheeks...

When first I came to Camelot California, Karen had bottles of corn syrup, light and dark, in the cupboard above the fridge. What's that, quoth I, what do you use it for? It is for pie, quoth she. Look! Pecans! (She says p'kahns, which I have tried to learn, but I still revert to my native pee-can.)

She may have been promising me pie for the three years since. Pie may not have happened.

Today, my purpose is to give her pie regardless. So I went to the cupboard above the fridge, where I have meantime imported many, many bottles. And I took them all out, those many many bottles, in search of the syrup. Which is not there. I swear, not there. I have not touched it; neither has she. Nevertheless. Not there. It is Macavity-syrup. (Actually, come to think? When something goes missing... Mac? Is this why you didn't want your breakfast?)

So I have been to Ludlow Fair Lucky's, and fetched home syrups light and dark, and molasses too just because I could. I do love Lucky's. It's open till six; I may be needing it till 5:59.