Our Bakery in the Middle of Our Street

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Our Bakery in the Middle of Our Street
Our Bakery in the Middle of Our Street

The moment you open the door to Madness Bakery you can tell that something is wrong. Both of your hearts are beating faster than they should be, and all of the red in the world has been replaced with that new kind of red you heard about on the radio.

The interior of the bakery is throbbing in time with your pulses. Mated pairs of donut snakes slither in blissful coils across the shelves of the glass display case. A croissantipede scurries underneath a counter. Scintillating motes of white flour dance in the air like tiny, carbohydrate-rich angels.

Your hand -- at least you think it's yours -- it's hard to be sure any more -- throbs where you touched the door handle. You look down at it and see a thin carpet of black ooze crawling between your fingers.

Occurs at Madness Bakery.


The title references the song "Our House (in the middle of our street)" by the band, "Madness".