April 4, 2012
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Leading its demons in fertility leaps, The Bread of Life danced across the fields. Subsiding at the road, it waved the demons to rest.

“That oughta take care of things for a while,” said The Bread of Life.

“Can we go home now, then?” asked a particularly vile little demon, the one with green phlegm dripping from its ears and bladder.

“Hold your horses, Disgusto. First I’m treatin’ everybody to ice cream!” said The Bread of Life.

“Yay!” enthused the demons.

Into the Baskin Robbins the repulsive mob oozed. Each ordered a single scoop of the finest vanilla in a cup, imagination not being a feature of note in the typical demon personality. The Bread of Life, to be sure, ordered a triple scoop banana split, though it must be reported that all three scoops were vanilla. After the frighteningly horrid group had tossed the empty and licked spotless cups into the recycle receptacle, The Bread of Life ushered the demons back to Hell before making its own way to its castle somewhere east of the West Wind.

“That’s what I call a right proper day,” mumbled The Bread of Life, and it settled into its breadbox and pulled the cloth of gold around it.

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