Topic: A surreal AI generated story involving Pierce Brosnan and a magic pie

"It was just a cherry pie, for god's sake," said Mrs. Casey Turner aloud to nobody in particular. "What did I think was going to happen?" She spent every evening of the last three days voicing that same question, and marveled that the answer somehow remained shrouded in mystery.

The magic pie had just looked so delicious, however, and she'd eaten it almost greedily. It sat there, suspended in the air for a moment, then fell point-first onto the kitchen table in front of her with a satisfying thud. Her husband, who sat across from her on the table, chuckled at the tiny sound.

"Dessert?" he asked. She nodded. "That last cherry went rogue, I see." He gave her the familiar goofy grin that had kept them together for over a decade.

But that was three days ago. At present, Casey was dealing with the traumatising consequences of immaculate conception, for she had just given birth in front of an audience of stunned healthcare workers to a rather different baby boy.

"Uhhh!" Casey sat back in her chair and stared down at the bloated, confused vision on her belly. She did not recognize the face looking back at her. But the features were decidedly male. "What do you think you're doing?" she said. The talking baby on her stomach opened its mouth to speak, and what emerged from it was a thick, Irish accent.

"Dearie, you've just given birth to Pierce Brosnan."

Casey snatched her hands away and hugged herself, entwining her arms so that she could not even contemplate touching her stomach again.

No. This couldn't be happening. "That was just a cherry in there," Casey said. "No way I'm letting some cherry pie produce Pierce Brosnan." She shook her head back and forth wildly. "No way."

"Goddamnit, Casey." Her husband got up off the chair and ran a hand through his spiky, chestnut-brown hair. "We just survived one year of hell with a talking pear, and now this." He stomped out of the room in anger, leaving Casey sitting up in the bed in tears.

"How am I going to get out of this?" she squeaked out, clutching herself tighter. A gentle voice spoke from her lap.

"Dear lady, that is a very good question. Not even I know the answer."

Casey closed her eyes and prayed a prayer she had not said since childhood. It went something like, "Dear Lord, please make this be all a very bad dream. Also, please prevent this from happening, and please also make this suspiciously adult baby shut up." She opened her eyes and peaked down at her stomach again. The answer was going to be no.

"Listen, Casey. I know this is a lot to take in, but I can assure you that I am real." He reached up and placed a hand on his mother's breast. "I am alive. And I am very hungry. I have always been a big fan of cherry pie, and if you don't mind--"

"Pierce, how did you get here? Why are you here?" Casey cried to the esteemed Irish actor she had just given birth to. He turned her hand over and looked at her palm.

"How do I get everywhere, Casey? I just show up." He poked a small finger into a palm crease. "When you're famous, you get used to it."

"That's not an answer. Are you here because of me? Or did you just wander into my reality over a slice of cherry pie?" Casey lowered her head down to her lap. She needed to be able to think straight, and this baby was not helping.

"Well presently, I'm a bit of a cosmic joke, I'm afraid."

Casey began to squint and shake her head in frustration.

"Listen to me," Pierce continued, "when you are in this kind of situation, what is the wisest thing to do? There are two options. One, you can stand and fight, right? And two, you can run away. Now, Casey, which are you?"

"No, you listen to me, Pierce, I want a straight answer. How did you get here?", she pleaded, her tone now angry. 

"Alright, I'll tell you the story. Listen carefully: it's not exactly an easy one to hear."

Casey nodded. She moved her hand down to his and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"The reason I'm here," he began, "is because of a man named Montgomery Bean. We shared the screen in The Thomas Crown Affair. We didn't get along very well. He always seemed to be doing something to get under my skin, throw me off my game. He was a smaller star than I was, and I suppose he was envious. When the movie wrapped, he took out his frustration on me. For years, he stepped on my shoes in restaurants, stole my phone from my pocket, and even tried to push me out a window. But the worst was yet to come..."

"Go on."

"At the wrap party, Bean approached me and told me he had a little present for me. Being the nice guy I was, I thanked him graciously despite our locking of horns on set. I didn't know what was in store for me."

"What was in store for you?", Casey asked, her tone a bit calmer.

"He placed a voodoo hex on me. I didn't even know such a thing existed. I found out later that it's very rare. He grew up in Haiti, where his parents were voodoo priests. They taught him everything they knew. He knew many powerful spells, chiefly one involving a certain cherry pie or tart of some sort. Because I was his sworn enemy, he had the perfect target in mind."

Miss Turner moved her fingers across the baby's palm, and traced the lines of his life. "I know you've had a hard life," she said. "But would your life be better if you moved forward, instea--"

"My darling," Pierce said. "I'm not quite finished. This must be very confusing for you. But I assure you that hearing my story is the best thing you can do right now."

Casey nodded, and allowed the handsome infant to finish his story.

"So when the party was over, I went home, crawled into bed and went to sleep. Several days later, I woke up, expecting another day in the life of Pierce Brosnan. But it was not to be. Something told me before I even opened my eyes. My nipples were painful, and I was confused. I had never felt that way before. This wasn't just like waking up with a fever. It felt like the worst flu I could ever imagine. And my head, it throbbed like a son of a bitch."

Casey mulled over these symptoms. "Could it be?", she thought. It would make sense, after all. She gave the private thought an audible voice. "Could you have been..."

"Impregnated?", Pierce finished for her. "I thought about that, too. But I didn't feel pregnant. I did feel sick, though. When I got up, I noticed that I had breasts. I poked them, and it hurt. I was angry. I wanted my old body back. I wanted to do another movie. I wanted to go out and win another award. I wanted to vote!"

"But it wasn't to be," Pierce said. "Each day, I felt myself withering away, becoming smaller and smaller until I was the size and disposition of a dried cherry. I knew the voodoo hex was in full throttle. I was in the process of being born myself. I was becoming a baby in the womb. I would be reborn anew, but in the body of an infant boy. I was powerless to stop it. "

"And I was the woman chosen to birth you?" Casey gasped.

"Yes, you were the woman and a hell of a woman at that."

"And if I had never eaten the pie?"

"It might have been someone else. At the very least, I have to think that it would have had to been a woman. A man couldn't have it happen to him. I only know of one man who gave birth but I'm not at liberty to say who because who needs a lawsuit?"

"So... What am I supposed to do now?" she asked, still trying to comprehend the entire situation.

"Call my wife in Hawaii, she'll come pick me up" Pierce smiled.

"Won't she be shocked to see you? Doesn't she think you're dead?" Casey asked.

"Well, now that part might be a little bit hard to explain..."