Bakery Boys

October 21, 2009
By Anonymous

It was 7:00 on a cold, dreary morning at the bakery warehouse. “Can I get 30 please?” I asked the clerk. After I got the bread, I took my usual route to my corner on 34th street. Every baker in Paris knows it’s my corner and no one messed with me or my corner, but on this particular day there was a short, stocky boy with about 10 loaves standing there. “Hey what are you doing?” I yell at him.
“Trying to sell some bread.” He says innocently.
“Well don’t you know this is where I sell my bread? You need to get out of here now!”
“Okay, okay let me get my bread basket.” I can’t believe he left without a fight or anything. He starts trucking off down the street. I feel bad for him and I don’t know why, I just do. Then all of a sudden I start chasing him and tell him he can start selling his bread on my corner.

Now 15 years later we’re best buds and own our own bakery shop. Everyone in Paris knows our bakery and comes to it. We’re always busy and we always have a blast at what we do. I’m so glad I chased after him that day!

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