Bread is all a figment of one’s greedy and selfish imagination.
They think of a heavenly, ethereal food that they may eat with honey, and they imagine bread. They can imagine it rising, and what it smells like, but bread had never actually been invented yet. When you eat sandwiches, you think that the meat it between to nice soft pieces of bread, but in reality, you are holding greasy lunch meat smothered in mayo between your sweaty palms.
Bread takes us to a faraway land, one that may blow another’s mind. We become delusional and concentrate on the world’s greatest food.
This is when bread comes to mind.
When you think you are spreading some strawberry or blueberry jam on a nice piece of bread, you are spreading it on your table.
Toasters were invented for nothing, and bunbags just blow around on the streets of San Francisco. Bread can become supernatural, and this can be bad…
I, the nice and enthusiastic guy walked into the bread factory, leading a group for a tour, and then the door to the factory shut and locked. “What’s going on?” an old hag asked from the back. I was drastically sweating, if that makes any sense at all. “I’m sure it was just the wind,” but it wasn’t. Oh how little we did know what was coming…
I lead the group through the machines, which did nothing, just mold and bend air, and the wind brushed up against my back. A single lightbulb flickering from the ceiling went out, and the panic mode switch was flicked on. “Do not worry, my fellow bread eaters,” I declared. “We shall get through this together.”
Then, what happened next made me scream. One of the bread smashers fell over and crushed my hand. Blood splattered and sprayed all over the group, causing them to scream and make a run towards the door.
“It’s locked!” a giant man with aproxamently one thousand chins declared. “Yeah, well duh, we got locked in here from the outside!” I yelled at the stooge. “Let’s find a different way out, and then this will be the best tour ever!!!” I said. That didn’t raise the bread spirit though.
“C’mon, guys, be sports.” and we went the other way. I found a air duct and broke it with my bloody shattered apendage which hurt like crazy, but I dealed with the pain.
Then, I found myself leading a bunch of scaredy-cats through a dark tunnel underground. The littlest girl in the tour was gravely crying. Then the tunnel split in half.
“Which way,” the stooge said. “You, old lady, lead the group over there, and I’ll lead myself over here,” and we parted with one another.
Suddenly, there was a loud thud and a bang. “You alright over there?” I asked the old lady. “Fine sonny, but cany you help me-” “WE’RE STUCK IN A AIR VENT! NOT A STREET!”
“Okay then.”
I continued leading myself, and then there was a dead end. I declared very gravely, “Crap” and then discovered myself falling an imposible height that would kill someone in their own landing border. Then, another thud made me yell out a curse word and turn around.
There was this giant mass, like a bunch of squashed up bread, and it had freaking king eyes and a giant mouth that could make someone do a hollyhop beat through their own spine.
“I WANT BREEEEEEEEAAAAAAADDDDDDDDD!!!” the monster demanded of me. “Listen, idiot, you’re made OUT OF BREAD!” “oh ya i forgot thanks dude by”
I kept walking and then found Dobby, a house elve singing some song. “Dobby, let’s get the heck out of here before someone gets hurt!” “ahh, the famous Johnny Bread, how do they make that stuff again? My clumsy brain forgot!” I farted.
“Listen, Dobby, we need to get out oh he-” “DOBBY WANTS BREAD.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Okay… then… if it’s bread you want, then it’s BREAD YOU’LL GET!”
I pulled a knife on dobby and skinned him right there. The blood going everywhere satisfyed me. I loved the sound of crushing bone and marrow globbing onto the floor dobby. “Dobby, full yet?” I asked as I raised his dead mutilated corpse to my ear. “Huh, Dobby? Are you happy now?”
No responding-ness.
“WELL JACK YOU! I’M GETTING OUT OF HERE SO I DON’T CRUMBLE INTO A BUNCH OF SMASHED PIECES OF DEAD BLOOD!”
I knew I was going insane… the bread factory was doing it to me. The voices were telling me to rip my face out, slit my throat and gouge out my eyes. I kept my eyes pealed (litterally) for a knife so I could do so.
I found one.
Right at the turn of the duct, I found a rusty knife, I picked it up, smiling.
I began to viciosly crave my own flesh and tear out my ears. I ripped off my limbs and smashed them into bits. I tore my eyes out and started…. eating them. I rolled over onto the floor and ripped my T shirt off, sliting my stomach open and ripping out the entrails. This wasn’t painful feeling at all… it felt good.
I tore at my insides and popped the ribs to get to the heart. I stopped. I wanted to rip it out the last….
I popped the lungs and air was sucked out of me. Now, trying to catch my breath, I ripped out my hair and began slicing at the scalp to get it off. Hair was now all over me but I didn’t care. This didn’t make any difference. I just wanted to teach myself a lesson.
I felt my skull cap, pulled a hammer out of my stomach that I had swallowed, and smashed it into my cap. Bits one bone and cartlage flew everywhere in a hyper-realistically way.
I loved the feeling of pain. I stuck my fingers into the gooey brain and started warping it up. Suddenly, everything in my view began warping and changing colors. Probably because of my hurt brain.
I remembered the intetesains and stomach. I knew what to do…. so I did it.
I pulled them out and layed them beside me, happy with what I had done. Then, I remembered, why wasn’t I dead?
I remembered the heart.
It was still beating.
So I took it out with my blooody mutilated hands and grasped it. “Why am I not dy-”
=The End?=