"Hey! I didn't see you there!" Rob Evans the donut man greeted the newcomer. "Welcome to the donut repair shop! I'm Rob Evans, the donut man!"
"And I'm your worst nightmare," the disturbed child said as he shanked him in the stomach. As the child left, donut man struggled to reach his phone and call for help. His shaking fingers reached out, twitched, and then lay still.
The shop was sold a few months later to another donut man, making the death of the previous donut man irrelevant to the rest of this story. Clearly the author just wanted to write someone getting shanked in the stomach. She is a bad person.
Hugo and Jake show up because the plot calls for it. The shop is mostly empty except for the sentient loaf of bread and the talking donut, which makes the addition of the new donut man meaningless except for the fact that the store was open. Someone might wonder why the new donut man isn't in the store and that person should shut up.
"That sentient loaf of bread is so sexy," Hugo said. "Look at its firm lips. Mmm."
"Maybe you should fuck it," Jake said, not looking up from his newspaper.
"Maybe I will fuck it," Hugo said.
"Ok," Jake said. He wasn't really reading the newspaper. Not making eye contact with Hugo was a sign of masculine power. He purposely did not give Hugo attention. Clearly Hugo deserves someone better. Someone like David Hasselhoff.
Hugo approached the sexy, sexy loaf of bread. It's double sexy. That's a lot of sexy. Sexy baked into every bite. Sexy doesn't seem like a word anymore. Semantic satiation turns Jack Chick on. THIS IS FOR YOU, JACK CHICK.
"Hey," Hugo said to the bread.
"I heard what you were discussing and it made me very uncomfortable, please back away," the loaf said, with a disturbing lack of bread puns.
"You don't have any teeth," Hugo said. "Technically you have no way of stopping me."
"No God why," the bread whimpered before Hugo shoved his deformed meat wand into his mouth.
"This isn't as good as I thought it'd be," Hugo said, as the bread's muffled cries vibrated against his man penis. "It's kind of dry."
"You should finish what you started," Jake said, picking out what headlines to use in his next newspaper cutout ransom note.
"Fiiine," Hugo said, and began halfheartedly fucking the bread mouth. It was really unsatisfying; nothing like fucking Jake. You probably assumed that because Jake was reading the newspaper as a sign of masculine power he was the top. Nope. Wrong. Power bottom.
Hugo finished in the bread's mouth and pulled out. His unhealthy cum from his mutant spunk cannon was a weird yellowish green, but he refused to see a doctor.
"Second…Corinthians…five…seventeen…," the bread sobbed.
"Behold, the new…is cum," Hugo said.
"Goddammit!" Jake said.
"What, you don't like puns?"
"No, it was just really dumb of me to get my fingerprints all over this newspaper. I was going to use it for ransom notes."
"Oh really? Who were you gonna ransom?"
"Donald Trump's toupee."
"You know what looks like Donald Trump's toupee?" Hugo asked. "Goldie." Jake had an aneurysm.
"So you wanna get out of here?" Jake asked when he recovered.
"Yeah sure. I mean I've already fucked all the sentient bread products, not including that donut over there. It's not a sexy donut." The donut whimpered and hid in its box.
"I disagree, but I'm more of a catcher than a pitcher and all it has is a hole."
"Yeah. Speaking of that, let's find that dead donut man so I can fuck him in his Y hole."
"Seems like decent fuel for my cuckold fetish," Jake said, and then they left, leaving only the sound of broken sobbing and the nacho guacamole smell of Hugo's cum behind them.
