The Bread That Told Jokes

Chapter 1: The First Joke

⟨Character 1⟩’s kitchen smells of flour and warm butter. A recipe card leans against a jar of honey.

⟨Character 1⟩: Two cups of flour. One spoon of yeast. Why is baking so messy?

⟨Character 1⟩: I could be asleep right now. Instead I’m measuring white powder like a scientist.

⟨Character 1⟩: And the bowl is already dusty. Great. Just great.

He tips the flour into a big blue bowl. A small cloud puffs up and settles on his sleeve.

⟨Character 1⟩: It says a pinch of sugar for the yeast. A pinch. How do I pinch sugar?

⟨Character 1⟩: I’ll just tip a little. That’s probably fine. More sugar, more happy yeast.

⟨Character 1⟩: There. A whole extra spoon. That can’t hurt.

⟨Character 1⟩: Now water. Warm water. Not hot. The card says warm. How warm is warm?

⟨Character 1⟩: Like a bath for a baby. I don’t know any babies. I’ll guess.

⟨Character 1⟩: Mix it all. Stir. My arm is already tired. This is why I order food.

He stirs until the dough pulls away from the bowl. Then he flours the counter and kneads.

⟨Character 1⟩: Push, fold, turn. Push, fold, turn. This is like coding. Only stickier.

⟨Character 1⟩: There. A nice round lump. Into the pan. Into the oven. Now I rest.

⟨Character 1⟩: Forty minutes. Timer set. I will lie on the floor and dream of lunch.

The oven hums. ⟨Character 1⟩ stretches out on the cool kitchen tiles and closes his eyes.

⟨Character 1⟩: Sleep. Beautiful sleep. This is the best part of baking.

The timer on the counter ticks. The kitchen warms. Then, ding!

⟨Character 1⟩: Already? Fine. Fine. Let’s see this bread.

He pulls on a mitt and opens the oven door. Warm air rushes out, smelling of sweet toast.

⟨Character 1⟩: Oh. It’s golden. It actually looks like bread.

He sets the loaf on a wooden board. The crust is round and shiny. It crackles a little.

⟨Character 1⟩: Crackly crust. That’s good, right? I think that’s good.

⟨Character 1⟩: I’ll let it cool. Then I’ll eat it with butter. A lot of butter.

⟨Character 1⟩ turns to put the mitt away. Behind him, the bread wiggles once on the board.

Bread: Knock knock.

⟨Character 1⟩ stops. His hand hangs in the air. He slowly turns around.

⟨Character 1⟩: Who said that?

Bread: Knock knock. I said it. Are you going to ask who’s there?

⟨Character 1⟩: The bread is talking. The bread is talking to me. I need to sit down.

Bread: You’re already on the floor. That’s a good start. Knock knock.

⟨Character 1⟩: Okay. Okay. Who’s there?

Bread: Bread.

⟨Character 1⟩: Bread who?

Bread: Bread you glad I didn’t say knock knock again?

⟨Character 1⟩: That was terrible. And also a joke. From bread. I’m going to bed.

Bread: But I have more! I’ve been saving them. It’s warm in here and I have so many.

⟨Character 1⟩: No. No more. I’m putting you in the bread box.

Bread: The bread box? That’s where jokes go to be alone. Don’t do that.

⟨Character 1⟩: Fine. The counter. Stay. Quiet.

⟨Character 1⟩ backs out of the kitchen. The loaf sits on the board, crust wiggling, like it is laughing to itself.

Chapter 2: The Bread's Best Material

⟨Character 1⟩’s living room has four chairs and a plate of biscuits. The bread sits on a tray on the coffee table.

⟨Character 1⟩: Sit anywhere. Don’t touch the biscuits yet. And please, ignore the bread.

Bread: Good afternoon. I’m the bread. I’m very funny. Ask anyone, I mean, ask me.

Ravi the neighbour: Oh, we heard! My whole kitchen smelled of baked jokes.

⟨Character 1⟩: It just does this. It started last night. I don’t know why.

Bread: I know why. Too much sugar. And a good audience. Now, a joke!

Bread: A loaf of bread went to a toaster and said, I’m a little crusty today.

Ravi the neighbour: And?

Bread: And the toaster said, don’t worry, I’ll warm you up!

Ravi laughs so hard he slaps his knee. The woman in the green scarf claps.

⟨Character 1⟩: Enough! That’s enough. Everyone, calm down, it’s just a lump of flour.

⟨Character 1⟩: Okay, the toaster one was not bad. Not bad.

Nadia the neighbour: More! Bread, do another. Please.

Bread: I have a whole batch. This one is about a naan who couldn’t bend.

⟨Character 1⟩: Do not tell the naan one. That one’s awful.

Bread: The naan tried to fit in a square box. It said, I need more room!

Bread: And the box said, don’t worry, I’m flexible! The box was lying.

Nadia wipes her eyes with her scarf. Ravi is holding the arm of the sofa.

Nadia the neighbour: That’s the one! That’s the best one!

Bread: Thank you. I’ve been telling that one since I was a starter.

⟨Character 1⟩: You see? It wiggles. It actually wiggles when it’s pleased.

Bread: I’m a happy loaf. Look.

The bread’s top crust scrunches up, wrinkles and smooths. It looks like a small grin.

Ravi the neighbour: ⟨Character 1⟩, did you ever laugh like this before?

⟨Character 1⟩: I laugh. Sometimes. Quietly. Alone. Over a good lunch.

Nadia the neighbour: That’s not the same, and you know it.

⟨Character 1⟩: Maybe. Maybe not. It’s not terrible having you all here.

Bread: He made the biscuits. I watched him stack them.

⟨Character 1⟩: Don’t tell them that! The bread is on my side.

Bread: I’m on everyone’s side. That’s the trouble with being bread.

⟨Character 1⟩: That was almost clever. Almost.

Bread: One more? For the road? I have a croissant joke.

⟨Character 1⟩: I think I need a minute. This is a lot of talking in my house.

Ravi the neighbour: That’s fair. We’ll leave the jokes for you two. Mostly.

The neighbours gather their coats. The bread wiggles once more on its tray, still grinning.

Chapter 3: Quiet at Last

⟨Character 1⟩'s bedroom is dark except for one small lamp. The bread rests on the nightstand, warm as a stone left in the sun.

⟨Character 1⟩: What a day. My house had more people in it than a bus stop at rush hour.

Bread: You did invite them. I just told the jokes.

⟨Character 1⟩: I did. I actually did. And you were funny. I'm saying that once, so listen well.

Bread: I'm listening. I always listen. That's part of the job, being bread.

⟨Character 1⟩ opens a drawer and takes out his pajamas. They are grey and soft and worn at the collar.

⟨Character 1⟩: The green scarf lady, Nadia, she laughed so hard she dropped her tea.

Bread: On her shoe! I saw it. The naan joke got her.

⟨Character 1⟩: The naan joke. Fine. It was good. I will never say that again.

Bread: You smiled all afternoon. I could feel it. Your face makes little lines.

⟨Character 1⟩: Those lines were always there. They just needed a reason.

Bread: Will you make bread again? Even without so much sugar?

⟨Character 1⟩: Maybe. I still don't like the mess. But I liked the company. That's rare for me.

Bread: I liked it too. I like the quiet now, though. The warm kind of quiet.

He climbs into bed and pulls the blanket up to his chin. The bread is quiet beside him. Its crust gives a tiny crackle, soft.

⟨Character 1⟩: Tomorrow we can try the croissant joke. If you want.

Bread: Tomorrow. I'll save my best one. It's about a rye loaf with a secret.

⟨Character 1⟩: A secret rye. Sounds terrible already. I can't wait.

Bread: You finished your flour and you made me. Thank you for that.

⟨Character 1⟩: You're not so bad, bread. Not bad at all.

He reaches over and rests his hand on the loaf. It is warm and gentle, the same warmth from the oven.

Bread: Goodnight, ⟨Character 1⟩. No more jokes tonight.

⟨Character 1⟩: Goodnight, bread. Sweet dreams.

Bread: I'll have them. I always do. Bread dreams are mostly about butter.

⟨Character 1⟩ laughs once, softly, and turns off the lamp.

⟨Character 1⟩: Butter. Of course. Goodnight.

For a moment, the room is only warm. Then, in the dark, a tiny crust wiggles once, holding its smile.