Bread Jokes Novels & Stories

*Edited Breanna's POV "I would have offered my special, Avocado toast," He began with a lopsided smile. "But I'm out of Avocados," He paused and bit his lip. "And bread." Breanna laughed. "So what do you have?." He walked to the kitchen as if unsure himself. She followed with a slight bounce in her steps. "Microwave pop-corn, eggs, ready-made cookie dough, oranges and Broccoli." He listed off.

Again Alissa recognised some things that had been brought to the pack but many things were in brightly coloured packaging that didn't really allude to what it was in her eyes. Michael grabbed a few bits, then led Alissa to the bread aisles, the smell of freshly baked bread was sensational. She didn't realise that people bought their bread, she had always baked it and knew her mum to bake it. The different size, shape and smell of the loaves were almost overwhelming. How could there be so many different types? Michael picked up a golden coloured loaf which was already sliced. “They don't even slice their own bread?” Alissa muttered. Michael chuckled,

"I haven't been to the store yet this week sorry. I do have coffee if you'd like." "Don't sweat it we'll have coffee after. Eat up, Lucille makes a mean lasagna." He plated two heaping helpings for both of them before taking a seat. She had no choice but to follow, and the food did smell amazing. She dug in and didn't realize how hungry she was until the savory meal hit her stomach. "Wow this is really good." "Told you. Here, have some of this bread." He broke off a piece of the mouth watering homemade garlic bread and held it out for her. Sparks flew again when their fingers brushed against each other and she pulled back quickly with the warm bread in her hand.

The smell of cinnamon and freshly baked bread clung to the air like hope that refused to die. Aria Hudson set down a tray of steaming muffins on the counter of her tiny bakery, Sweet Haven, her palms still warm from the oven’s heat. She’d decorated the display with the precision of someone who knew aesthetics mattered almost as much as flavor. Each pastry was placed at a perfect angle, every cup of coffee poured with care. It should have been a comforting sight. But this morning, like so many others, the sight felt more like lost hope.

He grinned. I want to know my way around you, sir. "Oh, um..yeah. A few. If you're a fan of garlic, then you'll definitely enjoy the garlic bread. Their cream bun and croissants are amazing too. You'd definitely want to pair them up with a mocha fudge." He gave a slow, single nod—his eyes settling on the snacks. "I take it you're a regular here." "Oh, I am. I strongly believe that you've not tasted bread until you eat from Homemade delights."

omg they are cute together, I wish I can also get a person like them. I can't help but giggle at their silly cute jokes, I find peace around them, I am an orphan and the love they provided to me is indescribable. I hugged them involuntarily, they kissed me on my forehead. " I love you both more than infinity ". " we love you too". Another interesting day, another interesting chapter of my life. ( this was a huge sarcasm). " these are your freshly baked breads as you ordered " aunty said placing a dozen of bread bundles on the counter.

People could be dicks. “Burgers. Bread. Buns. Bratwurst. Do I need to go on? Ooh, bon-bons, berries, butter, baklava, banana bread. That’s a double B. Yum. Oh, and we can’t forget bagels.” Saber shook his head. “You can’t eat Baked Alaska for dinner.” “Why not? It’s the best thing on this menu. Whoever owns this place might want to revisit their options.”

The CloudBread Bakery, a modest little chain that once only served early-morning Aeternum workers, now found itself flooded with offers to franchise in five countries after a single loaf of their magically soft, weightless bread went viral across UNA social feeds. Even Elias Crank, a one-eyed tinkerer with a stall no bigger than a cabinet, sold out every last one of his enchanted kettle-sinks after a high-ranking scholar from Artermesia tested one and declared, “This is the most intelligent use of thermal magic I’ve ever seen in my career.”

I wasn’t one to be picky, so I took a sausage and a chunk of the cornbread. The sausage was alright, just a simple smoked link. It would sate me for now. The cornbread I hesitated at, but decided to toss the chunk into my mouth. I immediately spit it out. Goddess, what did I do to deserve this twice in one day? Not only was it as dry as leather, but the taste was like that of battery acid. “What the hell did you put in that abomination?!” I turned to Chip. “Well, it was a recipe I got off of the internet and it seemed easy enough to make. I haven’t tried it myself yet.”

I shift on the stool, my damp jeans cling to my skin and the ache in my tummy feels like more than hunger alone. “How does sauteed mushrooms in a garlic cream sauce on brioche toast sound?” he looks across at me as he fills his arms with food from the double wide fridge freezer. I don’t have an answer, I have never had anything that sounds remotely like what he just said. Mushrooms, sure. Garlic, love it. Cream, who doesn’t enjoy cream? What is brioche toast and do I want it covered in what sounds like mushroom soup?