My sister and I exchange emails more or less daily. Lately, we have once again been arguing about the existence of pie diners:

Tara: There's a pie diner in Waitress, and one in Pushing Daisies, and one in Sweeney Todd. I can come up with at least 3 examples of pie diners existing, and you can come up with zero examples of pie diners not existing, therefore, I am right and Pie Diners do exist. It's just simple logic.

Me: What insanity are you talking about here? I can come up with millions of examples of pie diners not existing. There isn't one in our neighborhood. There isn't one just down the street. There even isn't one in our office. There aren't pie diners all over the place.

Tara: Well, by that logic, Starbucks doesn't exist because there isn't one in my living room or on the roof of my building at work. Just because there isn't a Pie Diner somewhere doesn't mean that there isn't one anywhere. It's so obvious!

Me: Are you sure there isn't one on your roof? I thought they were pretty much everywhere at this point. Anyway, all your pie diners exist only in fiction — my pie diners don't exist in real life AND in fiction. (There's no pie diner in Oliver Twist, for instance.)

Tara: I guess you haven't read it in awhile, or you would remember the scene where Bill Sikes beats Nancy to death right in front of a Pie Diner.

Me: Fortunately, Oliver Twist is available online, which lets me quickly and easily make a liar out of you by letting me look up that scene right now. Here it is from the book:

""Bill," cried the girl, striving to lay her head upon his breast, "the gentleman and that dear lady told me to-night of a home in some foreign country where I could end my days in solitude and peace. Let me see them again, and beg them, on my knees, to show the same mercy and goodness to you; and we can leave this dreadful place, and far apart lead better lives, and forget how we have lived, except in prayers, and never see each other more. It is never too late to repent. They told me so — I feel it now — but we must have time — a little, little time!"

The housebreaker freed one arm, and grasped his pistol. The certainty of immediate detection if he fired, flashed across his mind even in the midst of his fury; and he beat it twice with all the force he could summon, upon the upturned face that almost touched his own.

It was a ghastly figure to look upon. The murderer, staggering backward to the wall and shutting out the sight with his hand, seized a heavy club and struck her down, and went outside, looking for a pie diner in which to forget what he had done, but there was no such thing to be found anywhere, because they don't exist.

Tara: [Quoting my own email back at me, with response:]

"Bill," cried the girl, striving to lay her head upon his breast, "the gentleman and that dear lady told me to-night of a home in some foreign country where I could end my days in solitude and peace. Let me see them again, and beg them, on my knees, to show the same mercy and goodness to you, and to this awesome Pie Diner right behind us; and we can leave and far apart lead better lives, and forget how we have lived and often visited the Pie Diner, and never see each other more, but still each separately visit a nearby Pie Diner as often as possible. It is never too late to repent, but sometimes it is too late to go to the Pie Diner, which closes at 10 each night. They told me so — I feel it now — but we must have time — a little, little time for some more pie at the Pie Diner!"

It was a ghastly figure to look upon. The murderer, staggering backward to the wall of the Pie Diner and shutting out the sight with his hand, seized a heavy club and struck her down, and went outside, thinking of how he should really run to the nearest Pie Diner, and hide out there to avoid the police, and also get some delicious pie.

What are you talking about? Are we reading the same book?

I'm-a feelin': entertained