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No more dollies to load the bread trucks. 

Corporate says. 

New system. 

We gotta use these trolleys. 

Gotta stack the bread on these little trays. 

We stack the trays on the trolleys and roll the trolleys into the trailer. Corporate says to use these straps because now everything’s on wheels back there. Moving around and such. 

Need a strap for every two rows of stacks and we’re putting four stacks in a row. But Corporate only sent two. 

Two straps. 

Someone says, This is not gonna work. 

We’re standing around with our dicks up our butts according to the boss. Boss goes, Where’s that fucking load you dog fuckers, you lazy dog fuckers. Tell him we need approximately a dozen more straps. 

Boss pushes us out of the way. 

Big hero. 

Puts the only two straps we got on the last two stacks. 

Pulls them tight and slaps the side like, Good to go. 

Someone says, This is not gonna work. 

Driver pulls out the load and goes a little up the ramp. 

Straps break or must because the doors fly open and out come the trolleys. One hundred thousand slices of fresh bread launch into the air and fall all around us.

Swear to god. 

Jesus the smell. 

Guess who can’t believe it. 

Boss says he needs to do payroll. 

Only four of us there to clean it all up. 

This is third shift. 

Someone says, I got an idea. 

We get a hose. 

Wet it all down. 

Smash it all together. 

Turns into this sludge, this breadsludge. 

Roll it into a huge gray ball. 

Big as a rhino. 

Kinda looks like one. 

Heavy too. 

Takes half the shift, no shit. 

We’re covered in the stuff. 

Someone says, I got an idea. 

Gets a forklift from the warehouse. 

Puts the wet gray ball of breadsludge in front of the loading dock. Blocks the whole door. 

Funny if we left it there, someone says. 

Ha ha, someone says.

But then we do. 

Leave it there. 

Drivers are getting backed up waiting to pick up their loads. Hey what’s the deal? 

Hey what is that? 

We tell them. 

They love it. 

Everything is delayed. 

Ripples out to other shipping centers. 

Customers are calling. 

Corporate too. 

Ha ha, someone says. 

Boss yells at the drivers to get off their asses and move the bread. They don’t. 

Overtime for them no matter what this asshole says. 

Boss comes over to us. 

Singing a different song now. 

Begs us to move it. 

Starts crying. 

Big hero. 

Someone gets the forklift and moves the ball of bread out to the street. We clear the truck line and boss turns back into an asshole. Surprise, surprise.

Calls us dog fuckers but we know he can’t really do shit. 

Better chance he’ll be the one to get promoted to customer. We clock out, still caked in breadsludge. 

Boss is still there when we show up for our shift the next day. Bread’s still there too. 

Not that it’s really bread anymore. 

Sun-dried in our time away. 

Birds and flies all over it. 

Starting to draw attention. 

It’s not a great neighborhood. 

What’s the plan there, we say. 

Boss says to mind our fucking business. 

Anyway, these tweakers come by later and set the dried breadsludge on fire. Tall whooshing flames. 

Big ass column of smoke. 

The whole deal. 

Guess who can’t believe it. 

Cops start calling. 

Corporate too. 

Boss starts crying. 

Big hero. 

We go outside to watch. 

Jesus the smell.