Warning Signs

Posted on May 22nd, 2006

I was starving.

Last night, as I wandered the city streets window shopping for new gizmos and gadgets to add to my collection, I decided that I would eat something bad for me. I don’t really know why I had a craving for bad food, but I’m sure you’ll all agree that when the desire for fatty, salty, horrible-for-your-body food strikes you, you must satisfy it or die in the attempt.

And man, was I ever Jonesin’ for a burger.

It just so happens that the street I was walking down had one of my favorite bad fast food places on it and, like a good little crave-fulfilling drone, I headed right to it. Upon entering the King McWendies, I was assaulted by the smell of fry grease and burger fat and my mouth went into drool overdrive. It had been months since my last King McWendies fix and after a full day of window shopping I couldn’t imagine a more fitting meal for my dinner than a big, fat, bacon cheeseburger, a side of fries and a swimming pool filled with the carbonated beverage of my choice.

It would be like having heaven in a greasy paper wrapper.

I quickly stepped up to the counter and placed my order. Moments later I was sitting down at a table with my food displayed before me like a mini-shrine to human consumption, the burger dripping with secret sauces, bacon fat and grease, the fries covered in salt and more grease and the humongous soda standing above the rest, tall and proud like an idol of Vessence the Goddess Of Carbonation.

It brought a single tear of joy to my eyes.

Carefully, almost reverently, I picked up my burger and took my first bite. Oh the meaty juiciness, the bacony deliciousness of the King McWendies bacon burger. It was everything I remembered, everything I had hoped. It was juicy, it was hot and it was…

Tangy?

Wait a minute. This wasn’t right! This was wrong! Horribly, horribly wrong! My burger shouldn’t taste tangy, like good-for-you orange juice. It should taste fresh and greasy, like something really bad for you. What the frick was going on here?

I took another bite just to make sure.

Hmmm… I could taste the meat itself, hot and juicy and bad for me. That seemed to be fine. What else was there? Hmmm… pickles, check. Lettuce, check. Onions, check. Cheese, check. Secret sauces and ketchup, check and check. Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything amiss with the ingredients in the burger, maybe I should visually inspect it for discrepancies…

And that’s when I saw the mold.

Not a tiny spot of mold, no. The entire bottom part of the bun was covered in green mold. Green, furry mold. To say I was taken aback by this discovery would be somewhat misleading since what I was actually feeling was more like amazingly disgusted rage.

Immediately followed by nearly overpowering nausea.

Knowing full well that the worker bees at King McWendies would be of no help whatsoever, and also knowing that there was no way I would be eating anything more from King McWendies… EVER… I decided that the best course of action was to quietly demand my money back, leave King McWendies and eat somewhere else.

Preferably someplace that didn’t serve bread.

After getting my money back I made my way to my favorite restaurant. A place where the owner knows me and the chef always gives me a little something extra for free. I ordered my favorite dish, took a sip of water and got ready to enjoy my meal. And then it hit me. Moldy bread? At King McWendies? Suddenly I knew it hadn’t been a random mistake, the moldy bread had been planted. Somebody wanted to send me a message… a message only I would comprehend. And following close on the heels of that revelation came the perpetrators name; Bread.

I began to sweat.

Taking another sip of water I tried to calm myself down. It couldn’t possibly be Bread, he was gone. History. He had left long ago and said he wouldn’t be coming back because I was far too lame for someone as cool as himself. He wasn’t back. He couldn’t be back. Could he?

I sweated even more.

Suddenly very thirsty, I lifted my water to my mouth for another sip. Glancing down I discovered a dead fly floating right below where my lips would have been on the glass had I tried to drink. Looking closer, I saw that there was a tiny knife stuck in the flies back and a note that read, “Hi Bub. See you soon.”

Holy crap, I’m a dead man.

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Adam Who?

Posted on August 11th, 2005

Not enough.

That’s what I have; not enough. Although I’ve recieved a nice amount of sentences from you, there just aren’t enough of them for me to make a new story out of. I need more. More. More. More.

How do you like it? How do you like it?

In an effort to get you lazy bums off your collective rear ends and send me your wackiest sentence so I can write another stupid story for your entertainment, I’ve decided that I have no other choice but to threaten you. And so, without further pomp or circumstance, here he is; Bread.

“…”
“Well?! Don’t just stand there, say something!”
“No.”
“What?!”
“…”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
“What? You think I give a flying frick about your stupid contest, numbnuts?”
“But… but you said you’d help me out!”
“And you said there’d be tacos. And unless my eye has another yeast infection, I don’t see no tacos. No tacos, no threats.”
“I’ll make them after you tell these people to write me a sentence!”
“And I’ll threaten these losers after I’ve eaten my damn tacos.”
“No tacos until you threaten them!”
“No threats until I get my tacos!”
“No tacos till threats!”
“No threats till tacos!”
“Threats first!”
“Tacos first!”
“Argh!”
“Grarg!”
“…”
“…”
“So, ah… I guess that shows you people who wears the pants around here. So get writing or Bread will… uh, chastise you… by, uh… eating all you tacos?”
“Ooo, you really showed them. I bet they’re all shaking in their little booties.”
“Shut up, Bread. You know, all you ever do is embarrass me in front of my friends.”
“Liar. You have no friends.”
“Sigh. I guess I’ll make you your tacos now.”
“Nevermind. Your tacos suck anyway, let’s order Chinese instead.”
“I hate you.”
“Right back at you, jackhole.”
“Somebody kill me.”
“Hey! That’s not too bad!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You still want me to threaten these guys?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure I like that look in your eye…”
“Stop being such a wimp. You want those sentences or not?”
“I guess…”
“Fine. Here goes…”
“Hey! What are you going to do with that knife?”
“Hey losers! Send in your sentence by 10pm Monday or GeekMan dies.”
“Bread! This isn’t funny!”
“Bub, unless the next thing out of your mouth is ‘General Tso’s chicken’, you won’t last ’til Friday. Kapeesh?”
[whimper]

Filed under Bread, Contests, Experiments | 2 Comments »

Law And Disorder

Posted on December 16th, 2004

“Hey Bub,” said Bread, “We need to talk.”

He said this as he planted himself in front of my chair, thus blocking my view of the TV, and gave me the hairy eyeball. And in his case, his eyeball actually is hairy, making this particular stare all the more effective as a method of conveying curious anger to others. Startled out from the mesmerizing view on the screen, it took me a moment or two to refocus on who was talking to me.

This did not improve Bread’s mood.

“Bub, what the frick is wrong with you lately?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“I mean your fricking site, ya moron.”
“What’s wrong with my site? Did I get comment spammed to death again?”
“No. But at least that would be fricking interesting!”
“Hey! Are you trying to say I’m not interesting anymore?”
“Bub, you’re so far from interesting I can’t believe you’re able to convince your fricking heart to fricking beat without bribery!”
“That… That’s… That…”
“Yeah?!”
“That’s the dumbest analogy I’ve ever heard!”
“Oh yeah?! Then try this one on for size; Your Blog is about as interesting and funny as the turd I left in your box of Apple Jacks! How you like ‘dem apples?!”

I was flabbergasted.

“I don’t believe it.”
“Well, believe it Bub! It was a nice smelly one, too. And even though it might look it, I know for a fact I didn’t eat any corn in the last few days…”
“No, no, no. Not that. I knew about that already. I’m talking about the other thing. You really don’t think I’m funny anymore? Really?”
“Bub, last time I looked, no one thought writing ‘lunchity-lunch-lunch’ was funny. Not even a little bit.”

That hit too close to home for my taste.

“That was just an off day. I’ll get better real soon, you’ll see.”
“Oh yeah, sure. NOT!”
“How can you be so cruel?”
“Get off the can and face the music, Bub. Your writing’s gotten so bad lately it reminds me of the time you were so obsessed with that fricking game I kept beating you at that you stopped doing anything else but playing it for a week.”
“Heh. Funny you should bring that up…”
“I mean, if I didn’t know better I’d swear you wuz playing Halo 2 even though you swore to your friends that you wouldn’t open your copy of the game until such time as they could all come to your house and play with you.”
“Ah… Bread…”
“And looking up there at the shelf I can see that your copy of Halo 2 is still in its shiny wrapper.”
“Uh, right. But…”
“So, what the frick is wrong with you that your writing has taken long walk off a short pier?”

Sighing, I pointed at the TV.

“Holy Juan Valdez on a greased up pogo stick! Is that what I think it is?”
“Yeah, Bread. It is.”
“You’re playing Halo 2?! Without your friends?! More importantly, without me?!”
“Well, I thought a month and a half head start was good enough for everyone else, so I just…”
“Wait a second here, Bub. Don’t tell me you bought a second copy of Halo 2 just so you could play it.”
“Not exactly.”

Bread looked about ready to kill me, so I hastily wiped the condescending smile from my face and explained.

“You know how Mr. ModChip came with all those games pre-installed?”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, it turns out that I can actually add games to his hard drive! So I went out and borrowed a friends copy and then copied it to the hard drive and…”

A look passed across Bread’s face so quickly that I nearly missed it. Something that I hadn’t seen on his face in all the years that I’ve known him, a look that I was hard pressed to describe until I recalled the look on my mothers face the day when I finally managed to walk and chew gum at the same time.

Bread was impressed.

“Bub, that’s pretty slick of you.”
“Thanks Bread.”
“But what about your friends? Won’t they be pissed that you’re playing the game without them?”
“I don’t know, Bread. I mean, technically I’m still following the rules, you know?”

By this time Bread had managed to dig out another controller from a box and was plugging it into Mr. ModChip.

“Bub, I’m not following you.”
“I never said I wouldn’t play Halo 2 without them. I just said I wouldn’t open my copy of the game. And since my copy is right there on the shelf still wrapped in its wrapper…”

Bread smiled.

“Bub, you would make one hell of a sleazy lawyer.”
“Wow. You really think so?”
“Yeah Bub, I do.”
“Thanks.”
“Welcome. Now shut up and check your six, ‘cause I think you’re about to receive your first rocket enema of the day!”

And so I did.

Filed under Bread | 2 Comments »

New Arrival

Posted on November 8th, 2004

“Hey Bub, ain’t you gonna introduce me?”

Looking over at Bread, I realized that I had been sitting on the floor staring off into space for about four hours without saying a word. Snapping back to reality caused me an almost physical pain, especially when said reality included a slimy piece of moldy toast peeking over my shoulder and insistently tugging on my shirt.

“Bread, you… ah, you might want to sit down for this.”
“What’re ya talking about, Bub? Why would I need ta sit down just to meet this loser?”

Wiping the drool from my face, I gave my new friend a quick gesture for him to keep his silence and I pulled Bread over to the side. Luckily, our new guest had noticed another member of the family and was busy giving her his best smoldering gaze of predatory lust.

Interestingly enough, she seemed to be enjoying it.

“Bread, listen. I wanted to tell you earlier, but you disappeared on me and I couldn’t seem to contact you on your cell phone.”
“Well, Bub. Since you wuz having all the trouble with your kitchen and all, I thought it would be a good thing for me to skedaddle until the whole thing blew over, y’know?”

He must have seen the disbelief in my eyes because he looked down at the ground and became a little sheepish when he next opened his mouth.

“Well, I also was laying low after the whole Grouting The Underwear fiasco…”
“I still can’t believe you put grout, and GREY grout at that, in HoBiscuits underwear. What were you thinking?”
“Listen, Bub. After your whole post about having holey underwear I just thought I would be helping you out. And it’s not my fault if Her and your underwear looks the same! I mean, ain’t ladies supposed to wear sexy thongs and such?”
“Wherever would you get that idea?”
“Uh… PlayButter?”

I put my head in my hands and groaned.

“But that’s neither here nor there, Bub. Wassup with this new guy?”
“Bread…”
“Yeah, Bub?”

I knew this was going to hurt him, and even though part of me relished the idea of causing Bread pain, another, larger, part had grown to almost like him. And that made what I had to say all the harder to do.

“Bread, there’s no easy way to say this, but… That’s Miss Ex-Boxx’s future husband.”

For the first time ever, Bread lost his toasty-brown coloring and went white from shock.

“But, but… but…”
“I know this is hard for you, especially seeing as how you and she were getting a little close, but she told me she wanted to date within her species and…”

Bread turned away from the pair of game machines and looked up at me.

“Bub, I’m trying to understand and all, but a couple of things bug me.”

Giving him my full attention and a look of sympathy, I asked;

“Like what, Bread?”
“First of all, I thought all of those machines were girls.”
“Well, he’s been… modified.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. And apparently when they get modified they go from female to male. I don’t really understand it myself but I think it has something to do with getting a 250GB hard drive and a few thousand games pre-installed that makes them all masculine and suave, y’know?”
“Right. I can see that.”

Following Bread’s gaze I saw our newest guest sitting next to Miss Ex-Boxx whispering something in her ear that was making her blush and giggle like a teenager on her first date. He was also stroking her Ethernet port.

“Hey! I’ll have none of that in my house, do you two understand me?! I know you guys like each other, and you want to get to know each other better, but I will NOT have the two of you Connecting until AFTER I’ve made sure you, and I’m looking at YOU Mister, are in proper working order. Do you understand me?”

They both sheepishly mumbled something that sounded vaguely affirmative so I let it go and turned back to Bread. He was pretending that there was something in his eye, but we both knew there wasn’t. I felt myself actually feeling sorry for him.

“Ok Bub, I get the picture. It’s alright though, I’ll live. Plenty of fish in the sea, y’know?”
“I know buddy. I know.”
“Don’t never tell her I got this way over her or I’ll kill you, capeesh?”
“Sure. Will you be alright?”
“Give me a second…”
“Would it help make you feel better if I told you he came with Halo pre-installed?”

That did the trick.

“What?! He’s got the best fricking game in the whole fricking on his fricking hard-drive?! For real?”
“Oh yeah! And the best part is, we can hook them together and play against each other in separate rooms!”
“Holy crap, I am SO going to kick your anus!”
“Well then, let me introduce you to Mr. ModChip and we can get started!”

Smiling wide, we both turned to welcome him to the family.

Filed under Bread | 2 Comments »

Ask Bread 05

Posted on August 13th, 2004

Ho-hum.

I’ve entered my second month of trying to save GeekMan’s dying website with my Ask Bread! feature and I couldn’t be more bored. No one’s sent me pictures of themselves nekkid and covered in butter yet, not even Michele and she’s usually the first freak on the net to whip out her mammaries for a good cause.

Maybe if I claimed to have a penicillin infection?

Anywaste, let’s get right to this weeks stupid questions. Mike, who’s obviously never been here before, asks;

Bread,
How does a blog owner become as cool and as widely popular as you?
Mike, King of CSS

Mike,
You shouldn’t come here and insult me like that. First off, I don’t own this stupid site. This site stinks; no one ever visits, it’s boring and it’s so unfunny that it’s used as an example of how to screw up being funny in clown school. If I owned this site I’d remove it from the web, nuke the server farm that hosted it and then find the guy who owned the server farm and kill him, just in case. But, in the off-chance you really do want to become famous, here’s a list of what you need to do to become a massively popular and universally loved web site writer. Learn them. Love them. Live them.

Solonor, who keeps coming back here no matter how many restraining orders I get, asks;

Dear Bread,
A two-part question:
1. Which wine do you suggest for the candlelight dinner when the power goes out tomorrow?
2. Can you predict the future? Will I still be here to read your stupid reply tomorrow? Or will I have been blown into the southern Atlantic by Hurricane Charley?
Sincerely,
Hatches Battener in Florida

Dear Hatches,

Yer trying to sneak in a bunch of questions, ain’tcha? Well, two can play that game. Your first question is one of the dumbest I’ve ever been asked. Everyone knows that the proper wine for a blackout is red wine ‘cause you don’t gotta put it in da fridge. I suggest you buy your wine in boxes because I know that’s your favorite type of wine, you fricking wine connoisseur, you. Here’s the answers to your second question;
Yes.
Yes, unfortunately.
No, unfortunately.
Oh, and don’t forget to put on your house’s parking brake or you’ll wake up tomorrow on I95.

Schmuck.

Lastly, GeekMan wants everyone to know that he and his wife are selling half their house in an effort to start fresh in their brand new home. So, if you’ve ever been pathetic enough to dream of one day being just like GeekMan, now’s your chance to actually own some of his crap! If you want to know what they’re selling you can check out their listing on Craig’s List and click on the link for pictures of their crap. And if you want some of their useless junk, write him and he’ll be so ecstatic to talk to you that I’m sure he’ll even write you back. And don’t worry; he’s much nicer than I am.

Cause he’s a SAP!

Filed under Ask Bread | 4 Comments »