Published Nov 30th, 2021, 11/30/21 11:48 pm
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pardon my use of capitals and punctuation, from here on out i am going to use proper grammar.
ahem,
There was once a lonely bread slice, forever lost in the back of the pantry. Now, this bread was not the kind that went bad quickly, though it was starting to smell a bit odd. This piece of bread, whom was named Fred, was not that of a bread that easily gives up. This was a very bold bread, and he was not about to give up on his journey to be eaten. He had a special desire, which you could probably guess by now. Fred wants to be eaten. He wants to disappear into the stomach of a hungry, greedy human being. Now, he did not know how to accomplish this. How could a soggy, almost-gone-bad piece of bread get his way into a human's stomach? Well, this story may not make much sense, but next time someone serves you a meal, you never know, this could be how it ended up on your plate.
Fred has no legs. Fred has no arms. Fred is bread, and bread is all that Fred is and will ever be (unless he gets digested). Yet there is something you do not know. Fred can walk. He can put one corner in front of the other, and soon he will be as graceful a bread as you've ever seen. He still has a problem, though. He is still in the bread bag. How he will get out, I wouldn't know.
And that's exactly how he escaped his baggy prison.
He whistled and hooted, signaling to all the other crumbs of crackers and bread and others to help him out. The crumbs gathered into a great big heap and shaped themselves into a hand. This hand carefully removed the clip on the bread bag, and Fred was free. Fred laughed and thanked his crummy-brethren, then he trotted out the cupboard and fell onto the floor. Splat.
Just kidding.
Fred carefully edged his way along the thing ledge on the wall and gracefully jumped onto the countertop. He laughed his jolly laugh and haughtily strutted along the stove and plates, to which all the other spices displayed on the counter were in awe. He ran to the butter dish and asked an important favor. "Oh dear butter," he cried, "I would be indebted to you, my comrades, if only you could spare me a slice. Yes! Just a slice, comrades, that is all I ask. If you have any good in your hearts you will be ever so generous as to space a piece, just for me?" The butter was wary. "Fred, the bread," they asked daintily, "what good will come from us sparing a slice? What could you give us in return?" "Oh, we shall go on an incredible journey!" he said, "Whoever dares to join me in this mission shall go into the mouth of a human! Just think, comrades, the honor of being digested! Of being eaten! Won't one of you please join me?" There was an uproar from the butter. Each and every piece wanted to journey on this mission. "Oh please, just one of you," said Fred. Finally, a timid little slice of butter stepped forward. "Would you really let one of us come with you?" she said. "Yes, I speak the truth!" cried Fred, "And I believe you would be the perfect slice to join me! Come along, dear butter, let us journey to the digestion system!" All the other butters clapped and cheered, what an honor it was to have one of their brethren journey to the mouth of a human!
"Now, butter," said Fred, the bread, "we must go into the microwave. No human wants to eat us cold and plain. We must be all dressed up, nice and toasty, if we are to complete our task." The butter nodded timidly. They climbed into the microwave. Butter quickly pressed the start button before jumping inside with Fred. "This feels like a relaxing spa!" cried Fred, "I didn't know being microwaved was a pleasant thing after all!" The butter just closed her eyes and smiled shyly. She was melting, but it wasn't so bad after all, just as Fred, the bread, had remarked.
Fred stepped out, nice and toasty, just as promised, and quietly pushed a plate over to the counter spot right above the counter seat. The microwavization had made his muscles strong. He lay on the plate just as he heard an alarm go off. It was far off though, as if not quite in the same room. He heard a cry of agony and the shuffling of footsteps. Then, none other than a human had opened the door nearby! They groggily sat on the chair and lifted the bread to their mouth, not questioning where it had came from. Fred held back tears of joy. He couldn't be soggy, or the human might not eat him. His dream was coming true! He was being eaten! He had become one with the digestion!
EPILOGUE
It wasn't until a quarter hour later until the human realized they had not made that breakfast. Where had it come from? They wondered aloud. And was it just a trick of mind, or did that bread make a squeaking noise when I was eating it? In the end, the only thing that came from it was a morning of suspicion of where it had come from. Maybe the bread wasn't almost-gone-bad after all.
i'm done using proper grammar. thank you for reading, good day (/good night).
--------------------
this was for StaticNCogs's writing contest. i hope i didn't make it too long
ahem,
There was once a lonely bread slice, forever lost in the back of the pantry. Now, this bread was not the kind that went bad quickly, though it was starting to smell a bit odd. This piece of bread, whom was named Fred, was not that of a bread that easily gives up. This was a very bold bread, and he was not about to give up on his journey to be eaten. He had a special desire, which you could probably guess by now. Fred wants to be eaten. He wants to disappear into the stomach of a hungry, greedy human being. Now, he did not know how to accomplish this. How could a soggy, almost-gone-bad piece of bread get his way into a human's stomach? Well, this story may not make much sense, but next time someone serves you a meal, you never know, this could be how it ended up on your plate.
Fred has no legs. Fred has no arms. Fred is bread, and bread is all that Fred is and will ever be (unless he gets digested). Yet there is something you do not know. Fred can walk. He can put one corner in front of the other, and soon he will be as graceful a bread as you've ever seen. He still has a problem, though. He is still in the bread bag. How he will get out, I wouldn't know.
And that's exactly how he escaped his baggy prison.
He whistled and hooted, signaling to all the other crumbs of crackers and bread and others to help him out. The crumbs gathered into a great big heap and shaped themselves into a hand. This hand carefully removed the clip on the bread bag, and Fred was free. Fred laughed and thanked his crummy-brethren, then he trotted out the cupboard and fell onto the floor. Splat.
Just kidding.
Fred carefully edged his way along the thing ledge on the wall and gracefully jumped onto the countertop. He laughed his jolly laugh and haughtily strutted along the stove and plates, to which all the other spices displayed on the counter were in awe. He ran to the butter dish and asked an important favor. "Oh dear butter," he cried, "I would be indebted to you, my comrades, if only you could spare me a slice. Yes! Just a slice, comrades, that is all I ask. If you have any good in your hearts you will be ever so generous as to space a piece, just for me?" The butter was wary. "Fred, the bread," they asked daintily, "what good will come from us sparing a slice? What could you give us in return?" "Oh, we shall go on an incredible journey!" he said, "Whoever dares to join me in this mission shall go into the mouth of a human! Just think, comrades, the honor of being digested! Of being eaten! Won't one of you please join me?" There was an uproar from the butter. Each and every piece wanted to journey on this mission. "Oh please, just one of you," said Fred. Finally, a timid little slice of butter stepped forward. "Would you really let one of us come with you?" she said. "Yes, I speak the truth!" cried Fred, "And I believe you would be the perfect slice to join me! Come along, dear butter, let us journey to the digestion system!" All the other butters clapped and cheered, what an honor it was to have one of their brethren journey to the mouth of a human!
"Now, butter," said Fred, the bread, "we must go into the microwave. No human wants to eat us cold and plain. We must be all dressed up, nice and toasty, if we are to complete our task." The butter nodded timidly. They climbed into the microwave. Butter quickly pressed the start button before jumping inside with Fred. "This feels like a relaxing spa!" cried Fred, "I didn't know being microwaved was a pleasant thing after all!" The butter just closed her eyes and smiled shyly. She was melting, but it wasn't so bad after all, just as Fred, the bread, had remarked.
Fred stepped out, nice and toasty, just as promised, and quietly pushed a plate over to the counter spot right above the counter seat. The microwavization had made his muscles strong. He lay on the plate just as he heard an alarm go off. It was far off though, as if not quite in the same room. He heard a cry of agony and the shuffling of footsteps. Then, none other than a human had opened the door nearby! They groggily sat on the chair and lifted the bread to their mouth, not questioning where it had came from. Fred held back tears of joy. He couldn't be soggy, or the human might not eat him. His dream was coming true! He was being eaten! He had become one with the digestion!
EPILOGUE
It wasn't until a quarter hour later until the human realized they had not made that breakfast. Where had it come from? They wondered aloud. And was it just a trick of mind, or did that bread make a squeaking noise when I was eating it? In the end, the only thing that came from it was a morning of suspicion of where it had come from. Maybe the bread wasn't almost-gone-bad after all.
i'm done using proper grammar. thank you for reading, good day (/good night).
--------------------
this was for StaticNCogs's writing contest. i hope i didn't make it too long
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