For some reason, I’ve been thinking recently about beating someone up with a baguette. I think it might have been brought about by the scene in Buffy where Buffy pretends to stake Angel with a baguette, and when I saw the scene, I thought “that’s completely ludicrous,” but then the image stuck in my head, and I realized it wasn’t. Given the opportunity, I would probably do the exact same thing, because there’s something about a baguette which simply demands it, especially when said baguette has gone slightly stale, and it’s been coated in a fine layer of flour which rains down like dandruff.

It might be a “you have to be there” kind of thing, but the fact of the matter is that I did once beat someone soundly about the neck and shoulders with a baguette, and it was one of the most satisfying and invigorating events of my life. I should hasten to say that this wasn’t a case of bread rage, but rather a playful mock breadfight, made all the more awesome by being able to battle in a dumpster full of bread. I really think that humans don’t engage in play nearly enough. It satisfies so many primal urges and desires, you know?

Have you ever dived into a dumpster full of bread? It’s a pretty fantastic moment in your life. It’s the kind of thing where, as you’re doing it, you think “this is a pretty fantastic moment in my life,” as bread rolls skitter away under your feet and bags crackle. Really, the only thing that makes it better is grabbing a pair of baguettes and setting to, oldschool style, and prancing along the top of the dancer waving your bread about until it snaps in half and you are forced to grab a new loaf.

Alas, we don’t have a real bakery in town, let alone one which would produce bread in such large volumes that it would fill dumpsters with stale, discarded loaves. The only dumpster full of stuff to dive into around here is probably fish guts, and even that is a dwindling commodity.

Pity, really. Maybe I should start a baguette fighting squad, with members willing to have vigorous demonstration fights on the Guest House lawn in full Victorian regalia. Bustles and all. I should start knitting my baguette holster now.