The Bloody Glutton Bakery
Who doesn't love the smell of baked goods? The scent of bread rising, or a pie cooling. Scent is more closely related to emotional reactions than any of the other senses, and fresh baked pastries are the ecstasy of the scent world. A few months ago, a bakery opened a few doors down from me, and the smell sliced through the polluted air of the urban landscape like a knife though butter, causing olfactory euphoria to anyone within a mile of it. Now don't ask where this seemingly heavenly bakery is because it's not in anybodies best interest to go anywhere near that place. I should introduce myself before I tell you about "Der blutige Vielfraß Bakery". My name is Samuel, I live... Lived... With my girlfriend in a cramped, albeit comfortable apartment above an electronics store in the down town of our city. Her and I both had part time jobs, neither of us could afford college and we knew it, but we both aspired to go into the culinary industry some day; maybe open our own restaurant. When we heard a German bakery opened down the street we were ecstatic, but momentarily confused... how could we not notice any construction, or promotional signs... we walked by it's location every single day and would've noticed. We disregarded this, blamed it on routine disregarding of our surroundings in the city. We walked excitedly down to the bakery to try their goods.
The first thing that hit us as soon as we left our building was the powerful scent of bread, pies, cookies, and all the other delicious baked goodies. We looked at each other in gleeful surprise, we were still a block away but the scent was as clear as it would be in the kitchen. A minute or so later we arrived in front of our destination. It had colourful yellow black and red awning, a big clear window in the front, and written in a big playful font on the window it said "Der Blutige Vielfraß Bakery. The Best Bakery Outside of Germany". We eagerly walked inside, but stopped dead in the doorway, paralysed by the olfactory onslaught caused by the freshly baked strudel just coming out of the oven. After we awoke from our momentary bliss filled unconsciousness, we looked and saw that the bakery wasn't very busy, a few customers at the small tables, seemingly entranced by the shear deliciousness of the pastries in their possession. We walked up to the counter and were greeted a by a 5 foot tall, 3 foot wide man with an ear to ear smile, a handlebar moustache, a white coat, and a tall chef's hat; the perfect cartoon chef.
"GUTEN TAG FRIENDS! Velcome to mien humble bakery!" The Cook greeted us with a thick German accent "Vhat may I treat zis lovely couple to today? I've juzt finished a batch of vonderfull mulberry strudels if you are interested!"
"Mulberry strudel?" I asked with optimistic curiosity "Now there's something you don't see very often, I'll give that a try!"
"Very good, very good" Replied the cook "Und for ze lovely lady?"
My girlfriend responded "I'll try whatever you recommend chef, surprise me"
"AH, a surprise eh, I vill see vhat I have for a voman of such beauty" The cook said in a playful tone "Und please m'lady, call me Franz"
"It's very nice to meet you Franz" I said "It's about time we got a half decent bakery in this crap-hole town; How much do I owe you?"
"Vell it iz mien grand opening, zo I vill give you a discount, I'll get you some tea vith your pastries and I'll only charge you $2.50"
"2.50? That's amazing!" I responded with glee "You sir are a welcome addition to this town."
I handed him the money, and we took a seat waiting for our food.
When our food was brought to us, I was met with a plate sized strudel that made my salivary glands go into overdrive, my girlfriend was handed a massive slice of what was apparently strawberry apple cream pie. I found it an odd combination, but upon having a taste of it I was met with a rainbow of flavours sending me into a foodgasmic dreamland. When we had finished our food we felt as if we had eaten two Christmas dinners, satisfyingly full. My euphoria was broken when I saw the clock, it was 4-o-clock, we had been there for six hours. I jumped up, shifting the mass of food in a way my stomach did not approve of. I fought through the slight nausea and went home with my girlfriend. I had to work in an hour. I work at a bar and it was Friday night, if I missed work for happy hour on a Friday my boss would have my head. I managed to get my clothes changed and ran down to the bar with only a minute before my shift started. My boss gave me a stern look, but that was the worst of it. My night went fairly normal except I couldn't figure out how my girlfriend and I managed to be at that bakery for six hours... it just wasn't natural.
