Rye Bread vs the World

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DISCLAIMER: this is an unedited dumpster fire I wrote on a TikTok Live while taking advise from chat. Read at your own risk.
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In the not-so-distant future we find humanity’s last hope for survival aboard a single star cruiser no larger hockey rink in diameter on a flight escaping what was once the blue and green marble but was now little more than a burning ball of charred rock and blazing magma. The sun was expanding. The only hope left was the tiny ball of rock and ice on the edge of the solar system humanity didn’t deign to deem a planet. On the ship the AF. Bun, which was no larger than a hockey rink, we find a single piece of Rye bread, the last one in existence. He was an end piece of the loaf, so naturally no one would eat them.

 “That’s it I’m doing it,” Joe, exclaimed loudly, crossing the threshold into the small kitchen. They were a member of the cadets being raised to take on the responsibility of controlling the ship on its centuries long journey to Pluto. They would never see the fruits of their labor, but their great-great-grandchildren might.

 “What are you thinking?” Zoozah hissed at Joe, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. “We’re cadets, we’re not allowed to have bread.”

“It’s the end piece, none of the adults are going to eat in anyway.” Joe responded, “Besides they never give us real food. Only that processed nutrient bars, with no flavor.”

The slice of bread, Huzzoo, heard the conversation between the two otherlings, or at least that’s what he called them because they were so unlike his friends. The otherlings were massive hulking beasts, who grabbed his friends and took them away. Huzzoo didn’t know what happened to his friends. All he knew was they didn’t ever come back. Well he wasn’t the type to just take that treatment lying down.

Joe brushed Zoozah’s hand off and crossed the threshold into the kitchen. There was a thump. And they froze. Eyes glued to the slice of bread. “Did you see that?” Joe stammered.

“See what?” Zoozah stammered. His face went white.

 “The bread… it…” Joe trailed off. He gulped, “Moved.”

Huzzoo, was on the ground and off the literal and metaphorical chopping block. The otherlings were frozen. Their faces were pitch white. Had they seen a ghost? Huzzoo spun around, he didn’t see a ghost. Perhaps he should ask the otherlings why they looked afraid.

Huzzoo began to roll towards them. They flinched back a step, then another, and another, until they were in an all out sprint down the hall. Huzzoo noted an odd scent in the air. He gave a sniff and was taken aback. It was urine. He rolled into the hall only to be greeted by screaming and alarm bells.

The world was flashing red. Above the alarm belles were the sound of dozens of feet stomping on the ground. The stomping got louder and louder until Huzzoo was surrounded by a dozen armed guards with guns pointed at him.

 “Howdy,” Huzzoo greeted the armed men. His voice light and scratchy.

In response he was met with a hail of bullets that reduced him to little more than dust in the wind.