Bakery of Doom

Section 1: Grayson Is Not Grayson

It was a peaceful Sunday afternoon at Ray’s Bakery.

Pastor Simon sat alone at a small table, enjoying a croissant and a cup of coffee.

Just then, Chief Grayson walked into the bakery with two uniformed police officers.

Grayson was wearing his police uniform, with his famous combover stretched across his nearly bald head, barely hiding the shiny skin underneath.

He walked up to the counter and ordered a coffee.

“That’ll be three dollars,” said Raymond, the bakery owner.

Grayson waved his hand dismissively.

“Come on, it’s just three bucks! Consider it your protection fee!”

Raymond forced an awkward smile.

“But… you didn’t even pay for that Big Mag the other day…”

He glanced nervously at the two officers standing nearby.

“Ah, forget it. Just enjoy your coffee, sir.”

He handed Grayson the coffee without another word.

Grayson took the cup with a satisfied nod.

“Hmm! Now that’s a model citizen of Flushing City!”

Suddenly, Simon slammed his palm onto the table.

BANG!

He rose from his chair and marched straight toward Grayson, stopping right in front of him.

“Hey, you! Grayson! How dare you?! I heard you brought a couple of cops to rob Kyle and several other believers yesterday! You know perfectly well they’re followers of Humbleism! They belong to the Humble Organization! What is that supposed to mean?! Are you trying to pick a fight with me?!”

Grayson’s face went pale. He quickly put on a foolish, innocent expression, acting as though he had absolutely no idea what Simon was talking about.

“Huh? Grayson? Who’s Grayson? I know no Grayson! I’m just a humble, low-ranking patrol officer, sir! How would a nobody like me know someone that important? Oh, I bet he’s an amazing man! Probably handsome, brilliant, and respected by everyone!”

Grayson quickly turned to his two subordinates.

“Hey, you two! You’ve heard of Chief Grayson, right?! Tell him!”

The first officer nodded eagerly.

“Oh, Chief Grayson? That son of a bitch? Ugly as hell!”

The second officer immediately joined in.

“Yeah! That bastard’s dumb as a rock, too! And his stupid combover looks like a dead rat glued to his head!”

SLAP!

Grayson suddenly smacked the second officer across the face.

“Watch your fucking mouth! Don’t you dare call me ugly right to my face!”

The officer stumbled backward, clutching his burning cheek.

Simon burst out laughing.

“Haha! See?! You just admitted you’re Grayson, you idiot! And even if you hadn’t, I’d recognize that ridiculous combover anywhere!”

Without warning, Simon grabbed a handful of Grayson’s remaining hair and yanked him straight off the ground.

“There’s no denying it!”

“AAAAAH! HEY! Be careful! I’ve only got two strands left!”

Grayson desperately clutched at his own hair, trying to keep it from being ripped out, while his legs kicked wildly in the air.

The poor police chief was so terrified that his entire body began to tremble.

Then, without warning—

PFFFFFRRRRRRT!

A loud, wet fart burst from his pants, echoing throughout the bakery.

Section 2: Public Humiliation

Still holding Grayson in the air by his remaining hair, Pastor Simon wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Good heavens! Have you no shame? And you call yourself the chief of police?!”

Without another word, Simon raised his free hand and delivered three powerful slaps across Grayson’s face.

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

Grayson’s head swung from side to side, his ridiculous combover whipping wildly with every blow.

Simon finally released his grip, dropping Grayson back onto his feet. His knees immediately buckled, and his entire body shook uncontrollably.

Then, to his absolute horror, a warm stream of urine ran down his uniform trousers, forming a yellow puddle around his shoes.

The customers stared in disbelief. One man nearly choked on his croissant.

“Yo! Did the police chief just piss himself?!”

“Hahaha! Somebody get this guy a diaper!”

The entire bakery erupted in laughter. Grayson’s face turned bright red as he looked around at the mocking customers. His lips trembled, and his fists tightened with humiliation.

Unable to take it anymore, he finally gathered what little courage he had left.

“H-hey! You can’t just push me around like that! I’m the chief of police, damn it!”

With his hand still trembling, Grayson delivered a pathetic little slap across Simon’s cheek.

PAP!

Simon immediately seized him by the collar and pulled him close, glaring at him with absolute contempt.

“You dare fight back?! You wretched little peasant! Try that again, and I’ll stuff you into a body bag and toss you into the Atlantic Ocean!”

Grayson’s courage vanished in an instant.

“W-wait! Pastor Simon! Please! I didn’t mean to—”

Before he could finish, Simon lifted him by the collar, spun him around twice, and hurled him across the bakery with tremendous force.

CRAAAAAAASH!

Grayson smashed straight through the bakery’s front glass wall, sending hundreds of glass fragments flying across the sidewalk. His body bounced off the pavement, rolled several times, and finally came to a stop beside a storm drain, completely motionless.

Inside Ray’s Bakery, everyone froze. The two police officers stood speechless, staring at the enormous hole where the front glass wall used to be.

Behind the counter, Raymond slowly lowered the tray of freshly baked croissants in his hands. His eyes widened as he stared at the shattered glass scattered across the floor.

Pastor Simon glanced at the destruction, then at Raymond.

“Oops. My bad.”

And with that, he hurried out of the bakery, leaving Raymond standing there in utter disbelief.

Section 3: Underwear Has No Underwear

A few days later, Raymond had finally repaired the shattered glass wall at Ray’s Bakery.

Determined to prevent another disaster, he put up a brand-new sign beside the counter:

NO FIGHTING INSIDE THE BAKERY

Business was back to normal, with customers enjoying their coffee and pastries as though nothing had ever happened.

Just then, Jessica walked in, wearing a fully buttoned Zhongshan suit, her long ponytail hanging down her back and a katana strapped across her shoulders.

Exhausted from a long training session, she ordered a fruit tea and settled into a seat near the window, hoping to get some rest.

But something across the room caught her attention.

At a nearby table sat Dave, once known as The Underwear. He sat completely still, staring blankly into space. His face was pale, his eyes were hollow, and the cup of tea in front of him remained untouched.

Two customers sitting behind him began whispering.

“Yo, hold up! Isn’t that the Underwear guy?”

“Dude, no way! I thought that guy was just an urban legend!”

Dave slowly turned his head toward them, his expression empty and lifeless.

“It’s over… Mario shredded my favorite pink underwear into pieces. Everything I ever cared about… gone. The Underwear you once knew is dead.”

He lowered his head and sighed.

“No underwear. No pants. Nothing. I’ve lost everything…”

Jessica immediately recognized him. He was the same man who had once twisted her classmate’s neck 180 degrees inside Kung Flu Tea.

Her eyes slowly drifted downward.

And there it was.

No pants. No underwear. Just an enormous piece of manhood, completely exposed beneath the table.

Now, hold on a second, dear readers. This isn’t that kind of story! For everyone’s sake, the narrator has kindly placed a thick mosaic over the entire area.

PFFFFFT!

Jessica spat out a mouthful of fruit tea, nearly choking in disbelief.

She jumped out of her seat, stormed straight toward Dave, and drew her katana, pointing the blade directly at his neck.

“What on earth is wrong with you?! Are you seriously sitting in a public bakery with your private parts exposed?! Put some pants on, right now!”

Dave barely moved. He looked up at her with the same empty expression.

“I don’t have any pants.”

Jessica stared at him for a moment, struggling to believe what she had just heard.

“Oh, for crying out loud!”

She took a deep breath, then turned toward the other customers.

“All right, does anybody have a spare pair of pants? Underwear? Anything?! We can’t just let this guy sit here naked!”

One of the customers raised his hand nervously.

“Uh, lady… just a heads-up. That dude’s got a weird thing about underwear. He only wears pink women’s underwear. No exceptions.”

Jessica rubbed her forehead in frustration.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

Suddenly, a young woman sitting beside the front window stood up.

“Hey, wait! I’ve got pink underwear!”

Jessica immediately turned toward her.

“Seriously?! Great! Can you spare a pair?”

“Sure! No problem!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the woman unbuttoned her jeans, stepped out of them, and smoothly slipped off her pink boxer-style underwear, as casually as if she were taking off a jacket.

Of course, before the audience could catch even a glimpse of her pubic hair, the narrator was forced to slap another generous layer of mosaic censorship over the scene.

The woman tossed the pink boxers across the bakery, and Jessica caught them with one hand.

She walked back to Dave and held them out in front of him.

“Here! Pink underwear, just like you wanted. Problem solved. Now put these on!”

The entire bakery erupted in applause. Customers clapped and cheered enthusiastically, celebrating as though a major crisis had finally been resolved.

Section 4: The Wrong Pink Underwear

As the applause filled Ray’s Bakery, Jessica stood proudly before Dave, holding out the pink boxers with a satisfied smile.

But Dave didn’t move. He examined the underwear for a moment, then slowly shook his head.

“Sorry, but these are boxers. They’re incompatible with my style. I only wear pink, triangle-cut women’s underwear.”

The applause immediately died down. Jessica’s smile vanished.

“Are you kidding me?! You’re sitting here completely naked, and you’re turning down perfectly good underwear just because of the shape?!”

“It’s a matter of personal style,” Dave replied calmly.

Jessica casually tossed the boxers aside. They flew across the bakery and landed squarely on the face of a middle-aged man.

The man didn’t even flinch. Instead, he closed his eyes and took two long, deep sniffs through the fabric.

SNIIIIIIFF… SNIIIIIIFF…

Meanwhile, Jessica had reached her breaking point.

She drew her katana and slashed straight at Dave’s neck.

CLAAAAANG!

The blade bounced off his skin as though it had struck solid steel. Dave didn’t even flinch, and not a single scratch appeared on his neck.

Jessica staggered backward, staring at him in disbelief.

“What on earth are you made of?!”

Furious, she sprang nearly two meters into the air, raising her katana high above her head. Her ponytail whipped behind her as she prepared to deliver a devastating downward strike.

A kind-looking customer suddenly jumped to his feet and stretched both arms toward her.

“No! Please! Don’t kill him! It’s just a pair of underwear! Nobody deserves to die over this!”

But it was too late.

“Put on some damn pants!” Jessica shouted as she brought her katana crashing down with all her strength.

WHAAAAAAAACK!

The impact shook the nearby tables, but Dave remained completely unharmed.

The katana, however, couldn’t withstand the tremendous force.

SNAAAAAAP!

Half the blade snapped off and shot across the bakery, spinning through the air like a deadly silver wheel. It flashed beneath the ceiling lights before flying straight toward the front glass wall.

SHHHHUNK!

The broken blade buried itself deep in the glass, directly above the young woman who had donated her underwear.

Everyone froze, staring at the blade sticking out of the window. Miraculously, the glass was still holding together.

A customer whispered in relief.

“Safe…”

CLINK!

The broken blade suddenly slipped free and dropped straight toward the floor.

THUNK!

Its sharp point pierced the tile barely five centimeters from the young woman’s bare foot.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The woman’s scream rose into a piercing, high-pitched shriek, sending sharp vibrations through the already damaged glass.

A tiny crack appeared around the hole in the glass. Then another crack branched out beside it.

CRACK… CRACK… CRACK…

The cracks slowly spread outward, forming a spiderweb that grew larger with every passing moment.

The entire bakery fell silent. Customers held their breath, watching helplessly as the cracks crept across the glass.

“Oh, no… Please… Please don’t…”

The spiderweb reached the edges of the enormous window. The entire glass wall began to tremble, its surface covered in countless tiny cracks.

For one terrifying moment, it seemed to be holding together.

Then—

KRAAAAAAAAAASH!

The entire glass wall exploded into thousands of fragments, sending a glittering storm of shattered glass raining across the bakery!

Customers screamed and ducked beneath their tables as chairs overturned and pastries scattered across the floor. Within seconds, the peaceful bakery had turned into a complete disaster.

Jessica stood motionless amid the destruction, still gripping the broken handle of her katana.

Dave remained seated, completely unharmed, staring blankly into space.

Behind the counter, Raymond slowly turned toward the shattered entrance.

The glass wall he had just paid to repair was gone.

Again.

Section 5: The Three Sacred Rules

Two days later, Raymond had finally repaired the front glass wall of Ray’s Bakery.

Again.

This time, he wasn’t taking any chances. He sacrificed an entire table in the middle of the bakery just to display a massive, one-meter-by-one-meter sign with three rules written in bold letters:

NO FIGHTING
NO NUDITY
NO SCREAMING

After witnessing the bakery suffer repeated damage, especially to its glass walls, the regular customers decided it was time to take matters into their own hands.

Later that afternoon, during the lunch rush, two elderly men were enjoying soup and toast at a nearby table.

Their conversation started peacefully, but it quickly turned into a heated argument.

“I’m telling you, there are over seventy different gender identities these days!”

The other man nearly spat out his soup.

“Seventy?! Are you out of your damn mind?! There are only two! Male and female! What’s next, a freaking helicopter?!”

“Oh, give me a break! You ignorant old fool! Get your head out of the last century!”

“Who the hell are you calling a fool?!”

Both men jumped to their feet, knocking their chairs backward. One grabbed the other’s collar, and they began shouting in each other’s faces.

Before either could throw a punch, a retired gym teacher rushed over with several customers and forced them apart.

“Hey! Knock it off! No fighting in here! You wanna beat each other up? Take it outside!”

“Fine! Let’s settle this outside, old man!”

Still trading insults, the two elderly men stormed toward the entrance.

But just as they stepped outside, a young customer suddenly rushed ahead and spread his arms, blocking their path.

“WAIT! Not in front of the glass! Take it all the way down the block!”

The two men glanced at the enormous glass wall, then continued down the street, arguing the entire way.

As soon as they reached the end of the block, they started fighting. After dozens of rounds, one beat the other to death.

Back inside Ray’s Bakery, the customers had watched the entire scene through the freshly repaired glass wall.

For a moment, everyone stood in silence.

Then someone began clapping.

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

Within seconds, the entire bakery erupted in thunderous applause!

For once, a violent fight had ended without a single crack in the glass.

Raymond emerged from behind the counter, overwhelmed with gratitude. He looked around at the cheering customers, then bowed deeply.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, everyone! I can’t tell you how much this means to me! You saved my bakery today! And I promise, as long as I’m here, I’ll keep serving you the finest bread and coffee in all of Flushing City! This bakery isn’t just mine anymore. It belongs to all of us!”

The customers cheered even louder, raising their coffee cups in celebration.

Raymond gazed at the beautiful glass wall standing proudly at the front of his bakery. A warm smile spread across his face.

For the first time in a long while, he truly believed his bakery was finally safe.

And the three sacred rules remained unbroken.

Section 6: The Fall of Ray’s Bakery

Meanwhile, a car was speeding down Main Street at nearly eighty kilometers per hour.

Running right alongside it was Dinello, his unbuttoned Zhongshan suit flapping wildly in the wind as he effortlessly kept pace with the car.

“HEY! Give me back my wallet!”

The driver stared at him in disbelief.

“Holy shit! He’s keeping up with my car! How the hell can anyone run that fast?!”

Suddenly, the driver spotted a man bending down in the middle of the road to pick up an empty soda can.

It was Tom.

The driver immediately jerked the steering wheel to avoid hitting him.

SCREEEEEECH!

The car spun out of control, skidded off the road, and headed straight toward Ray’s Bakery.

KRAAAAAAAAAASH!

The car smashed through the bakery’s front glass wall at full speed, sending thousands of glass fragments flying across the room!

It missed the counter by barely half a meter, but two unfortunate customers were struck and crushed beneath its wheels, killing them instantly.

The car finally came to a stop among the wrecked tables and pastry displays. Its airbags deployed, knocking the driver unconscious.

Moments later, Dinello arrived. Without paying any attention to the victims, he marched straight toward the car, dragged the unconscious driver out, and searched his pockets.

“Aha! There you are, you little bastard!”

Dinello pulled out his stolen wallet, slipped it into his pocket, and casually walked away without looking back.

Behind the counter, Raymond stared at the destruction in disbelief. His beloved bakery lay in ruins, with shattered glass, broken furniture, and bloody wreckage scattered across the floor. Two of his customers lay dead.

Raymond slowly sank to his knees, his hands trembling. He knew he couldn’t afford another repair. His bakery was finished.

And something inside him had finally broken.