In the sleepy town of Sweettooth Bend, nestled along the winding banks of the Mississippi, a peculiar committee gathers every Thursday beneath the peppermint-striped gazebo.

Their mission? To audit the annual Pie Parade — a task requiring precision, diplomacy, and a deep tolerance for sugar.

At the head of the table sits Myrtle, the town’s bookkeeper. She wears cherry-red spectacles and keeps her ledgers scented with nutmeg. Her quill hovers above the parchment as she tallies crusts, fillings, and whipped cream swirls with the solemnity of a judge.