The walk to the bakery was rudely interrupted by the sudden realization that the bakery had vanished, replaced overnight by a sprawling, windowless structure painted in a shade of yellow that made Toby’s teeth itch. A massive neon sign flickered above the sliding doors: GORGONZOLA’S EMPORIUM OF INFINITE SUNDRIES AND OCCASIONAL PRODUCE.
Figuring they might sell a decent baguette, Toby stepped through the automatic doors. The air inside smelled of ozone, old library books, and distinctly of blue raspberry. He grabbed a shopping cart, whose front left wheel was not only squeaky but appeared to be slowly rotating through the fourth dimension, briefly vanishing and reappearing with every rotation.
He wandered past aisles selling "Dehydrated Water" and "Canned Regret," finally turning into Aisle 4, hoping to find the baked goods.
The moment his foot hit the linoleum of Aisle 4, the floor gave way. It didn't break; it simply transitioned from solid flooring into a viscous, bouncy layer of lime-green gelatin. Toby bounced slightly, losing his balance and tumbling into a shelf stocked entirely with jars of pickled dreams.
"Halt, traveler," boomed a voice from above.
Toby looked up. Floating near the fluorescent light fixtures was a massive, translucent manatee. It was wearing a velvet smoking jacket and a monocle clamped firmly over its left eye.
"I'm just looking for a croissant," Toby said, trying to stand up but finding the gelatin floor too wobbly. "My toaster is holding my lasagna hostage."
"The Great Toasting Oracle has spoken!" the manatee bellowed, doing a majestic barrel roll in mid-air. "I am Lord Archibald, Commander of the Star-Fleet Manatee Armada. You have stumbled into the Nexus of Carbs, Tobias. We have been waiting for you since the dawn of the crust."
"How does everyone know my name today?" Toby muttered.
Lord Archibald floated lower, his whiskers twitching. "The prophecy foretold of a man wearing mismatched socks—one thick wool, one thin cotton—who would arrive on the eve of the Great Yeast War. The Gluten-Free Dark Matter entities are advancing on our southern borders. They seek to erase all elasticity from the universe! They want a cosmos that is dense, crumbly, and lacks structural integrity!"
"That sounds terrible," Toby said politely. "But really, I just need some bread."
"You shall have your bread, Champion," Lord Archibald proclaimed. He reached into his smoking jacket with a flipper and pulled out a glowing, pulsing orb of pure, unadulterated sourdough starter. "Take this. It is the Mother Dough. It has been fermenting since the Big Bang. Guard it with your life."
He dropped the glowing orb into Toby’s hands. The moment Toby's fingers brushed the cosmic yeast, the grocery store dissolved into a blinding flash of white light, accompanied by the distinct sound of a kazoo playing a sad jazz solo.