Every superhero has their origin story. Would you like to hear mine?
No, my parents weren’t tragically killed before my eyes. Nor did I expose myself to radioactive properties. I didn’t train in seclusion for many lonely years or discover a means to distort reality with my mind.
My story is much simpler.
I am a loaf of bread. A small one at that. One that rose to the occasion and passed the baptism of fire, a forty-five minute trial in a 375 degree oven.
Sounds like a normal loaf of bread right? Nothing heroic about that.
True. But how many loaves of bread do you know capable of verbal communication? How many loaves of bread have university degrees in journalism?
Okay. So this might just be one intelligent loaf of bread. It can happen, right? It’s impressive yet by no means heroic.
Well this might also be true. But what if I told you this loaf of bread has a legitimate superpower, that this loaf of bread can rival your Batmans, Spidermans and Captain Americas.
What if I told you that this loaf of bread is immortal.
The average lifespan, or loafspan as we of the wheat like to call it, is between two to three days. I have lasted thirty years.
Thirty years is a bit of an anomaly for a loaf of bread, would you not agree? Even one purchased from Baker’s Delight. But here I am, no mould, no dryness, looking breader than ever.
I may as well add here my unmatched record in combat, my victories over corrupt and evil world leaders and the many other times I have single-handedly saved the human race from complete and utter doom. Technically there is no proof, however for the sake of storytelling, let’s just say, like any worthwhile superhero, I was incognito. I challenge you to prove that I didn’t do these things.
Now that I have you at my mercy, now that you cannot question my claim to a Hollywood cinematic representation, let’s take a look at the things that entertain me and shape my thoughts. Perhaps together we can discover why this loaf hasn’t gone stale.