Dr.Waffle-Cock goes to the baker's

A short story based on actual events that arn't true.

It was a sluggish day. The room seemed different somehow, yet still as dull as it ever was. As he rose, Dr.Waffle-Cock scratched the crust from his eyes, flaking brown crumbs all over his knees. With crumbs still clinging to the inside of his fingernails, he stretched for his glasses, flicking bits all over his bedside cabinet.

The kitchen was still a mess, although cooking was not on his mind. Glancing at the clock on the microwave-oven gave the realiseation that it was just past lunch. It seemed a snack was in order. The fridge door creaked like a 500 year old rocking chair, but despite its unpleasing aura it continued to fullfill its duty. Cheese, lettuce and ham. No butter today. That diet has got to start sometime. Bearing the fridge's whine once more, Dr.Waffle-Cock closed the door. All the ingrediants were lined up on the counter, awaiting ther placement into a sandwich. But bread was not to come. He reached into the cabnet hoping to find the pop-tarts. Always an apathetic man, these seemed a fine replacement for the casing of this snack, and a choice was not given seeing as he was out of bread. But after inspection, he found he was out of pop-tarts also. It would seem as if a trip to the baker's was in order.

Traffic was always a shit in Dr.Waffle-Cock's town. No-one ever drove, they just walked. Which was odd as there still seemed to be cars everywhere. Traffic didn't mean much to the Dr anyways. His apartment complex was on the high street, so all the shops he needed were not even a stone's throw away. The streets were kept clean despite the amount of pollution being pumped out from everywhere. This meant that the walk from home to bakery, was not only short but also pleasant. Approaching the bakery the air began to thin. Tinted with the smell of fresh bread instead car fumes. Dr.Waffle-Cock flaired his nostrils as he entered the shop, basking his sense in the delightfull odours. There was a short que, allowing enough time to check his wallet for the correct currency. £13.13, some would class that as a superstitious coinidence. But Dr.Waffle-Cock was not a superstitious person, far from it. Infact, the most far-fetched thing he believed-in was the fact that he had a heightened sense of seeing in the dark.

The lady at the counter was flabby. She had the look on her face that implied she hated her job. Yet contrary to her appearance, she was a very polite woman. "Hello there sir, how may I help you?" she asked. "One mediam loaf of bread please. Fresh." replied Dr.Waffle-Cock. "Certainly sir! That'll be £4.45 and ten minutes till its cooked." He handed the woman the money, and took a seat on the rustic deck-chair that stood next to a table.

Fresh bread was always best. It gave it warmth and made the consumption some-what more enjoyable. It also gave the time to sit and watch all the customers that came and went, happily purchasing their bread. But alltough Dr.Waffle-Cock had been visiting this bakery for almost 5 years now and he only ever saw one customer come in more than once. That was the tall gentleman, who would always be equiped with a suitcase. The contents of which were never established. According to what he had overheard, this man was almost like a mafia to the business. He ran a protection racket, from what was still questioned, and would visit the bakery once per month, demanding payment for his 'services'. He was never an aggresive conversationist, although he was demanding at times. And on this particular day it sruck Dr.Waffle-Cock as a surprise to hear the gentleman's discussion, elevating in volume over his own thoughts. This loudness eventually broke into an argument, which unveilled as the un-arrival of the gentleman's payment. The woman behind the counter began to scream her words as her face became slowly coated in tears. Dr.Waffle-Cock decided that he had to intervine, so he approached the counter.

The woman was fumbling through the cash register, insisting that todays earnings were needed for the payment of bills. The change in tone of the gentleman's voice suggested he was begging to loose his temper, and as Dr.Waffle-Cock stumbled over the counter to comfort the woman, the contents of the suitcase were revealed. There, in the gentleman's hands, a reasonably large machine gun was gripped. Yelling ensued before shots were fired at the sealing, signalling everyone to leave. The Gun was then pointed at the womans face, Dr.Waffle-Cock, having her gripped in his arms could smell the residue of the recently fired shot, drifting from the barrel.
"Get away from her and leave NOW!" insisted the gentleman. Normally he would have complied with the orders of the gun-toating gentleman, but the threat of a woman's life being needlessly taken persisted him to speak up. "What ever problems you have with this lady, I'm certain they can be settled without the use of violence." reasoned Dr.Waffle-Cock.
"You havent a clue to what this woman has done to many people! You must leave now!" Yelled the gentleman. As Dr.Waffle-Cock glanced into the crying woman's eyes, he insisted to himsself that a woman filled with such fear could not act against a man of this nature.

Police vehicles soon arrived, and their flashing lights glimmered off of something in the corner of Dr.Waffle-Cock's eye. As he looked down, he saw a sharp, debilitated knife.
"If you realease your grip on this woman, then i shall have no further quarrel with you! She is in need of elimination!" Insisted the gentleman. Dr.Waffle-Cock pushed the woman aside, causing her to weep heavier. But as the gentleman directed his aim towards the lady's face, Dr.Waffle-Cock plunged towards the counter, snatching the knife. Before the gentleman had chance to react, he had 4 inches of steel embedded in his skull. The lifeless body of the recently full-of-life gentleman slumped to the floor. The woman, still in shock was cowering in the corner. As Dr.Waffle-Cock looked over at her, he smiled, but his polite gesture was not returned.

The police then procceded through the door, at least 20 were rushing from behind their cars. Their mumbling was incohearant at first as many swarmed the body. Then Dr.Waffle-Cock heard one of them say " Is that agent Redford?" only for another to reply "He was undercover." More and more police were entering the building, all concerned with the body, untill one man peered over the counter and yelled "It's her!" Switching preferance, some policemen came over to her not long before a man approched Dr.Waffle-Cock. "What happened to this man?" He asked.
"He threatened this woman's life, so I took It upon myself to take care of him!" Replied Dr.Waffle-Cock, frantically. Another aproached and spoke to the policeman. "Sir, we just checked the cctv, this man was given a warning by Redford." The policeman then turned back to the Dr. "You're under arrest for deliberately assulting and taking the life of an officer of the law. You have the right to remain silent, anything you do say will be given as evidence against you in court. You have the right to an attourney, if you can not acuire one, one will be appointed to you." As he was escorted from the building, Dr.Waffle-Cock took one last look at the woman. She starred back at him with a vacent look in her eye. He Listened to the officer talk to her and heard him question "Was that the guy who was running the business?". She turned her stare from the Dr, to the policeman, before replying "Yes! He was in charge of eveything, I just work here, he the one handling evrything!" After all the years of her being politely out of character, she finally lived up to her unfriendly appearance.
He had been framed.

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