Hamburger Buns

On the way home from the gym I stopped into my neighbourhood bakery to buy some hamburger buns. Bakeries are a dangerous place to visit for a guy like me who tries to take on as few calories with food as possible so I can drink like it is game seven of the Stanley Cup Final all year round.

There were pastries and cakes and cookies and tarts and fuck knows what in there. And the smells! For some reason the smell of coconut stood out above the rest. My mouth filled with gob - I wanted to eat all that shit so bad.

Charlie had his Chocolate Factory, for me it has always been bakeries that I have dreamed about.

I picked up my hamburger buns from the shelf. Whole wheat. Do not want to get a beer shit stuck in my gut somewhere a doctor has to get it out.

I took them to the counter. The pretty girl who greeted me with a smile when I came in took up her position by the cash register. She asked me, "Is there anything else I can get you?"

I gulped down a river of gob, took one last look at the strawberry tarts, all shiny and gooey and sweet behind the glass; took one last glance at her bakery girl floury tits and said, "No thanks. But everything in here sure does look and smell good."