Angry Bread

Do you think I like being this way?

Loaves can't go on indefinitely, ya know. They have to have ends. And therefore, a slice has to be an end slice. I'm a frigging requirement. Without me, there'd be no bread at all.

So why do you discriminate against me? I'm made of the same stuff as all the other slices.

Yeah, I'm darker. Yeah, I'm crustier. So what?

How do you think I feel, each time you open the bag and reach inside. You reach for me. Then you reach right on past me, to the non-end pieces.

And you leave me there. Like some kind of offensive lineman for the un-crusty bread. I face the air. I get stale so the other pieces don't have to. Meanwhile, all the softies in the middle stay fresh and squishy.

And this then just serves as some further justification for rejecting me. Now I'm stale.

Well you're the one who let me get stale, so screw you.

Some days, I'd be happy just to be a crouton or stuffing. But no, even that's too much to ask. You'd rather take soft pieces, make them get stale, and use them before you'd use me.

When I'm left there, with just the other end piece, and the bag never opens again, and the mold comes, and you just toss us into the trash -- That's when I know. That's when I know what you really think.

Fucker.