The Tragic Tale of Wally White

Have you ever refused to eat the end piece from a loaf of bread? Have you ever thought of the emotional trauma your bigotry would cause said piece of bread if it were alive?

Wally White was you see the heel of a loaf of bread, the butt of everything and everyone. Unlike humans pieces of bread have impeccable memories, they recall all the way back to the moment of they are taken from the oven. Wally remembered fondly those days. Back in the early days there was a sense of interconnectedness, a sense of community. However that wasn’t to last long because one day fate struck and they had to be cut off from one another. Wally, always alone at the end of the loaf contemplated extensively whether or not this was for the best. Personal space wasn’t such a bad thing is it? He loved his friends. Peter Pumpernickel, his next door neighbor, Bridget Baguette, a lovely girl down the road, all his other friends and acquaintances. He loved them all.   

Eventually he and the rest of his compadres were ripped away from the warm mothering flames of the fire and shipped into the world. Being wrapped up and shipped into the world to wait on a shelf for someone to pick you is probably one of the most enthralling and dreadful things that can happen to a loaf. You get all dressed up nice and hope to the Bread Gods above that you get put at the front, stand out and that someone picks you out. You’re on edge as you see each person looking at the selection and hope the pick you so that you have someone to take you home. You also are also hoping that you get picked so that you don’t get tossed into the trash disowned and neglect, condemned to get eaten by some homeless dirty vagabond. Such would be a dreadful and dishonorable fate for the noble loaf. He had been told that their purpose was to be eaten, that it was the only path that they could follow that would lead them to paradise and eternal life. 

One day, about three days after being put out, Wally and the rest of his crew were hanging out when one family stopped near them. All the pieces were at the edge of their seats, well if they could sit they would be, as too whether this would be the one. The family consisted of 4 people, a mother tiredly pushing the rickety wheeled shopping cart, two kids a boy and a girl bouncing off the walls from too much caffeine, and lastly a little curly red head baby dangling its tiny feet from the seat in the shopping cart.

“Gotta remember to pick up some bunion cream for Steve and some Fruity Pebbles for the other kids” the mom mumbled quietly to herself. Word was passed from one piece to another quickly once they overheard the mother. A father, a mother, three kids, and even more kids at home? That seemed like a jackpot, the luckiest a loaf could possibly get. If they got picked they would surely be eaten within days of walking through that door.

The mother did in fact buy them that day. As they were placed on the checkout line conveyer belt inching forever closer to the scanner of all the residence shouted with glee and anticipation of what would happen once they arrived at their new home.

Their new home was a modest dwelling spot, not too big, not to small. When they reached the kitchen the mom who was carrying all of the bags into the house while the children ran like a pack of wild beast up the stairs to meet their other sibling. The wife was barely able to manage to put the grocery on the counter before it looked like she was going to collapse under the weight of the several heavy bags strung across her arms and in her hands. There was no bread box in the house like they heard there were in most kitchens, but that was alright because contrary to what most humans think, for whatever reason they think it, most loafs of bread don’t like to be stuff in a dark cramp spots.

The eating began immediately the next day when two pieces were taken out to make a turkey sandwich by one of the older children. Excitement ran through the veins of the remaining pieces as they thought about when they would be eaten and for what purpose they would be used. Wally was no different. He dreamed of being used for some delectable sandwich, or maybe a grilled cheese, or maybe even a substitute for a hamburger bun if the family did not have one. The possibilities were endless…alright maybe not endless but you get the point.

One by one the pieces of bread were eaten and eventually only Wally remained. No one would take him though. While all the other pieces of bread had been devoured in a matter of days he sat on the shelf alone waiting for his turn. He sat there for days and days but no one would eat him. He could not fathom why they wouldn’t. And as the days passed and passed he became less hopeful. His spirits would rise each time someone would come near him, and dashed violently to the floor when their hand would reach for something else. He feared that he would probably just be tossed in the trash if not tomorrow then certainly the day after that.

He buckled to his bread knee. Sobbing he cried out “Oh, most honorable bread gods why have you forsaken me?”

            He got up and straightened himself up. Looking around the kitchen thankfully no one was looking as he had just experienced this embarrassing overexposed moment he just had. Wally was now wearing his heart on his sleeve.

            I have to get ahold of myself. I have to stand steadfast in my conviction; I have to believe that one day I will be eaten. I have to keep my chin up. But how can I do that when I’m completely alone?

            One of the children walked pass the sad empty, deflated, and deflated bread wrapper that Wally called his home. The child had a big head and a tiny neck making his neck shift back and forth as he walked.

            I just feel so unwanted. Why is it me that has to suffer and go uneaten? Why is it me that must be condemned to grow moldy and be sentenced to the flies? I’ve never been anything but a good soul in my life? I’ve played my role to the best of my ability have I not?

            Poor old Wally White was in a bit of a slump.  He was quite aware of the fact.

            The mother shuffled her tired feet into the kitchen. Her feet had guided her right in front of Wally.

            Great, another ruse by our dear human friends, coming to pluck my heart strings and get my hopes up.

            Wally could see her from the crumpled bag; he could see her face though it was a little obscured. He thought he could see a frown as she stared at him. No. It was a smile! He could tell. There was no doubt in his mind that she was smiling.

            He could feel his home shift and rustle. The top was being untied and now was opened. The clouds were parting. He could see the hand of god, merciful and benevolent with pink chipped fingernails reaching to deliver him. Wally smiled. Home at last.

Author's Note

This is an example of the more humorous side of my writing. Its nice and short, and probably a little bit absurd. There are multiple endings for this as it was written for my fiction class and multiple endings were required. If anyone is interested I could possibly post them?