“Hey Bub, how ya doin?”
I almost dropped my glazed, chocolate donut in surprise at the now familiar voice. Luckily, I managed to stop the donut from sliding to the floor by sacrificing my right hand to the boiling hot water splashing over the lip of my Mighty Geek mug. Some things are worth third-degree burns and months of rehab.
“OW! Dammit Bread, don’t scare me like that!”
“Sorry schmuck, I didn’t know you wuz so jumpy. Did it hurt?”
“Hurt? You smug little… Maybe I should dunk you in this hot cocoa and watch that grin melt off your face.”
“Hey now, bub. No need for threats, I said I was sorry.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
I got a paper towel and cleaned myself off. I was a little annoyed by Bread’s cavalier attitude towards my pain, so I refused to look at him until I was positive he knew I was angry. I mean, he’d been slithering all over the house lately not even bothering to hide his penchant for Butter-Porn, and I was getting tired of all the unsolicited spam-mail I was getting from hotbutter.com. Just as I suspected though, Bread completely ignored my air of disapproval and continued talking as if nothing was wrong.
“So, wassup wit your site?”
“Go away, Bread. You’re not real and I don’t have to listen to you or answer your stupid questions.”
“Yes you do. I’m your inner monologue and the voice of your visitors, so it’s my job to hound you until you give the people what they want.”
“Your thoughts on what people want have no basis in reality, so shut up and leave me alone.”
“Hey, I still think a list of twenty things to do with apricot jam would really reel them in. And just because you have a problem with hot butter porn…”
“You’re crazy.”
“I think the word you meant was ‘brilliant’.”
“I’m not listening to you anymore so go away.”
I sat down at the table and began eating my scrumptious Entenmann’s chocolate donut. I should have known Bread wouldn’t leave me alone, but I guess I thought he would at least let me eat in peace before he bothered me again. I should have known better.
“Are you retarded?”
“Mmmfff? Glormph!!!”
Bread had timed the question perfectly and my hot chocolate burned my throat like lava as I mistakenly tried to answer and swallow at the same time. The skin on the roof of my mouth came off in stringy clumps of boiled flesh and my tongue swelled up to twice its normal size. The pain was intense and my eyes watered in sympathy. Bread just laughed and laughed and laughed. He could be a real jerk sometimes.
“You jerk! That really hurt.”
“Cry me a river, wuss. Just answer the question, are you retarded?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m not.”
“Are you stupid, or metally impaired?”
“No.”
“Did your momma drop ya when you wuz a kid?
“Don’t you talk about my momma.”
“Or what, jackass? What?”
“Or I’ll…”
“You’ll what, tough guy? Cry? You gonna cry like a little girl? Go ahead, cry like a baby. Cry, you pussy. Cry.”
I just stared at him, hoping that my glare would be so hot as to toast his body and kill him. He just smiled at me, knowing I couldn’t touch him. We both ignored the excess moister in my eyes.
*mumble*
“What?”
“Nothing. Why do want to know if I’m stupid? Which I’m not, by the way.”
“Because you’re not funny anymore. You’ve lost it, whatever ‘it’ was, and your writing lately has been, how should I say this politely, pathetically un-funny.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then what the hell was that last post about?”
“It was a humorous look at how my girlfriend managed to move into my apartment without ever actually moving in. I thought it was really funny.”
“Funny? It was about as funny as a poke in the eye with a branding iron. You just confused the hell outta me and made me want to kick your skinny, hairy ass for ever writing such crap. Next time stick to the stuff you know people want, like stories about how stupid you are.”
“Hey! That’s enough out of you, you slimey, little bastard. I thought it was funny and I bet other people did too.”
“The only person who thinks you’re funny is HoBiscuit and even she needed to call and get clarification about that post. Face it, you’re over the hill, past your prime and as funny as a Just Shoot Me marathon. You might as well throw in the towel, pack your bags and become a tabloid horoscope writer in Des Moines.”
I couldn’t believe how insulting he was being. Here I was, the guy who had given him life on my web site, and all he could do was insult me. My patience with him was wearing thin and my hot cocoa was getting cold. When he started laughing at me I got angry, but the horoscope writer comment was the last straw.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m putting you where you belong.”
“But that’s not where I belong, that’s the toaster.”
“That’s right. Burn, you little prick.”
“No!!! You bastard! I’ll be back, moron! You’ll never be free of me! I’ll get you and your little site too! I’m toasting… I’m toasting… Ayeeeeee!!!“
I set the toaster on high and left him inside. I ignored his screams and sat down at the table to enjoy my cocoa and donut. After ten minutes the screaming stopped and the smell of toast filled the air.
Now, anyone else have a complaint?
Aww geeky.. dont listen to the evil bread! Ur still funny! Either that or your crazy but i dont wanna get toasted (toasted duckie isnt very tasty blah) so ill just with funny.
I have plenty of complaints! Want one? Fine! Whats up with all these stray dogs? I mean, really! I keep eating them, but im not -that- fast! Besides, I like the occasional squirrel with my peach cobbler and wash it down with a bottle of vinegar and white-out. Ya cant blame me for that, right?
Now, if you excuse me, it’s time for my evening prodding of my genitals with a Dremel.
I would buy the tabloid just to read your horoscopes. I have a great aunt in Iowa, she’d send them to me I’m sure.
I do have a complaint, though. I have been a very, very good girl and Santa still hasn’t brought me a new job.
Can you get on that, for me? Thaaaaaanks.
Hah! You thought you got rid of me, didn’t you? Well, bitchcakes, I’ve got a little surprise for you, motherfucker….thanks to my untimely toasting at your hands, I became a martyr to baked goods everywhere. Now I have a cult following. I’m like a doughy Jesus and shit.
All I can say is that revenge is sweet, asshole, and mine will be the best of all. Think about *that* next time you’re noshing on a bagel, because it might be your last.
Don’t try me boy.
Actually, I really liked that post. The bread thing dropped over the odd line, but, you know.
“so I refused to look at him until I was positive he knew I was angry.”
I just love that line and in my current state of depression, I know you were very funny but it made me cry..
HILLARIOUS. everyone has an evil ‘bread’ in the back of their head. for some it’s a solid, some it’s a liquid. let’s just hope bread doesn’t have any relatives like ta-kill-ya that decide to pay you a visit!!!
gay it sux, if i rote this id kill myself poo on toast