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Bread Sandwich, Part I


.sniffuM

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The other day Marvin Harding went to the muffin store because he wanted a muffin. This is where he was sorely mistaken. For, you see, on this day, there was not a single muffin inside. Rather, Harding entered the room (not the womb; this is a very important distinction to make) to find a man, sobbing on his knees, shaking a fist to the skies above. This man had his mouth so stuffed with muffs that Marvin could hardly contain himself. He was aghast with the sight of something so decedent, those velveteen crumbles, stained by the heinous act of overwrought adjectives used to pad word count. After spending 25 minutes helping the man, who at this point could only be presumed as the muffin man, clear his face cave of delectable pastry, Marvin was finally able to conduct the initial stages of an investigation. “Who did this to you?!” Harding demanded.

 

“He was roughly an inch and a half tall,” man replied between sobs. “He was bronze in color and flat in feature. He resembled useless currency. What ever will I do?! My wife will leave me!”

 

Harding knelt up from the floor, muffin man sufficiently dealt with. He slighted his eyes and uttered under his breath, “Pennypenny!”

Edited by .sniffuM
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