Susie, toss the bread! And no crying about it. Understand? It's just a thing; and things can be remade, even if it takes a couple of days. Suck it up girl. It's not the end of the world. It's just bread.
Just bread! What am I saying! It's the culmination of three days of loving attention, with care, patience, and the hopes and dreams of a generation awaiting the final, breath-taking, and gloriously golden baguettes that were supposed to grace the table. Sob! I can't stand it. I will now have to go into a dark room, and whip myself with hemp rope, and wear sackcloth for a week, and confess my sins to the inquisitioner.
Suzie, will you meet me at the wailing wall tonight, about midnight, for three hours of wailing? Me and BT will be there waiting for you. I'll bring the ingredients for s'mores. We can light Bt's hair on fire to melt the marshmallows. He won't mind. He's got Boone's Farm to brace him up. Oh, and he's been woking out too. He's got those rock-hard abs, just right to use in place of that punching bag that Maveric suggested.
But seriously Susie, toss the bread. You can make more, and it will be better than that batch wold have been anyways.
Seeeeeeeya; Goodweed of the North
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