The Joke in the Crust
2 chapters for 1 character · about 5 minutes · told 1 time. The highlighted parts are filled in with your own characters when you make this story yours.
Chapter 1: The First Punchline
⟨Character 1⟩’s kitchen glows at midnight as he slides a plain brown loaf from the hot oven.
Bread: Why did the dough go to school? To get a little kneaded. I am on a roll, and I know you heard me the first time. Tap me again if you want the one about the baker’s favorite dance. I can feel the jam on your shelf smiling at me.
⟨Character 1⟩: I did not say that, and bread does not talk. Maybe I have been building websites too long and my ears are making up jokes. I am going to wrap you in this blue checkered cloth and put you in the far corner of the cupboard. Stay there and be quiet while I get some sleep. My red alarm clock never rings anyway, so I might actually rest.
Morning brings a knock at ⟨Character 1⟩’s bakery door.
Delivery person: Morning! I have a small box of website printouts for you. Should I leave it on the step like always? Something smells like warm bread and melted butter. Are you selling any of those loaves, or is it all for you and your midnight baking?
Second Loaf: What does bread do at the disco? It gets toasted. That one always makes the flour fly.
⟨Character 1⟩: No, I am not selling any, and I am not in the mood for a chat. Take this loaf, free, and do not tell anyone where it came from. The bell will jingle when you go, and I will go back to my quiet kitchen. The flour on my apron is not a costume, it is my whole night. Tomorrow I will bake a silent loaf, plain and quiet.
Delivery person: That is the best joke I have heard all week, and I deliver puzzles and crosswords, so I know a good punchline. My lips are sealed, but my stomach is very happy. You have a strange and wonderful bakery, ⟨Character 1⟩. I will not say a word, except thank you.
Chapter 2: Loaves and Jokes
⟨Character 1⟩ mixes flour, water, and salt late in the afternoon, muttering as he kneads.
⟨Character 1⟩: No jokes. Plain bread. I will add too much salt, knead until my knuckles turn white, and shove you into the hot oven without a single pleasant word. You are going to come out a silent loaf, just flour, water, and my own quiet stubbornness, and we will both have a peaceful evening without a single punchline or a customer at the door.
Bread: I’d tell you a baking joke, but I’m all bread out. And since I can see a sulky face outside the window, here is a fresh one: why did the baker get fired? He buttered up the wrong customer. That one always makes the flour fly, and it seems the raincoat outside just might crack a smile, even though the sky is still grey and the step is wet.
Sulky Customer: That is the silliest thing I have heard all day, and I have been listening to the rain talk back to my broken umbrella. Tell the baker his bread has better timing than the weather, and that I am smiling now even though I swore I would not. My cheeks hurt and my eyes are wet, but not from the rain.
⟨Character 1⟩ opens the tiny bakery in the evening and tapes a hand-lettered sign to the counter.
⟨Character 1⟩: Two rupees.
Bread: Time to hit the dough, and that one is for you, baker. Wrap the end crust in the blue cloth, curl up on the flour sacks, and let the oven tick you to sleep. I will be quiet now, but only until the next customer with a heavy heart walks in, and then I will find a joke that fits them like a warm piece of toast.
⟨Character 1⟩: Goodnight.
Rest now, ⟨Character 1⟩. Bread, you will be ready when needed. Goodnight, ⟨Character 1⟩. Goodnight, Bread.
A question for tonight
If your best friend were a loaf of bread, what joke would it tell you when you tapped its crust?