The Bakery Games

Here is one of my short stories – hope you enjoy it!

Sports Day in The Bakery was tomorrow.

Brian Bun slept badly, Brenda Bun slept fitfully too. Cousin Basil was in the marathon but the reason they could not relax was because Billy their eldest son was in the one hundred metres dash against his arch rival Dennis Doughnut.

Billy had trained very hard on the local track known as ‘The Shelf.’

Barbarella, his sister timed him and cheered him on and little Bobby his brother tried to keep up but couldn’t.

Brian and Brenda did not know why their oldest son was known as Billy the Bolt. It puzzled then endlessly. They had a discussion only last night before bed about nuts and bolts, door bolts and even lightning bolts but they still concluded that they had no idea why.

“Still, Brenda had said, “it has a nice ring to it.”

“Don’t talk about ring doughnuts Bren,” Brian scolded.

Brenda shrugged.

The day dawned, the day of the race. Brenda rubbed her sticky eyes. Brian scratched his top as they had a cup of tea and nervously discussed Billy’s chances in the race.

“Billy the Bolt,” said Brian.

“Billy the Bolt? asked Brenda. “Don’t start that again, you know we don’t what it means.”

“Well, said Brian, “everyone in our Bakery calls him that.”

“Tell me again what time the race is, I’m so excited I can’t think.”

Brian tutted “You know it’s at three o’clock mother.”

“Billy will want breakfast and lunch then.”

“Don’t talk so silly woman,” Brian laughed.” He can’t run on a full stomach, nobody can.”

Brenda’s face crumpled, “Well I saw a ring doughnut running down a hill after eating a big pie.”     

“Yeah but ring doughnuts are not all there,” Brian said tapping the side of his head to indicate his meaning.

Brenda giggled a bit like a cream bun at this.

They passed the morning talking to each other and Barbarella their teenage daughter and playing games with little Bobby.

At two o’clock the family arrived at the stadium and took four front seats in the stand.

“Why is it called a stand?” little Bobby kept asking anybody. “Dad?” “Mum?”

“Babs, do you know?”

“Don’t call me Babs!” Barbarella snorted at little Bobby.

“I don’t flippin’ know.” His Dad told him for the umpteenth time.

Brenda shrugged.

“It don’t make flippin’ sense, everybody is sitting,” the small boy added.

“Watch your language,” his Mum told him and flicked a protruding currant on her son.

“Dad said flippin’ ……” Brian gave Bobby a look that stopped his protest.

They watched the Bread Puddings ‘putting the shot nearby. Bobby cheered them all. Then they watched the Meringues in a walking race. Brian had to look at Bobby often during that event and tell him to sit down as he mimicked in an exaggerated way their walking action.

“They do not put a hand on their hips Bobby.” Brian said stifling amusement.

Then the time came at last, they all jumped up and cheered and whistled when Billy and the others came out on to the track in front of the stand.

“Billy!” “Billy!” “ Billy!” they chanted. Cakes around them tutted and told them to sit down and be quiet.

The hundred metres contestants knelt down, took off tee shirts, walked around and jogged on the spot, knees up high. 

Brenda’s eyes had filled with wet stuff and Brian pretended his had not. The currants pulsed hard in his chest. Barbarella clapped. Little Bobby waved his arms everywhere and jumped about.

The announcer cleared his throat over the loudspeakers and then began to announce each contestant.

“Dennis Doughnut” Dennis waved both arms in the air and grinned confidently.

“Mark Muffin.”

“Melvin Meringue.” A very white cake smiled and did a little dance.

“Frank Fruit-Cake.” He sliced a hand through the air in acknowledgement of his name.

“Cyril Scone.” The announcer said with difficulty owning to his lisp. Cyril did a little jig on the spot.

Next an Eccles, a Cupcake and last but one Dirk Danish a very pale thing.

“And finally,” the announcer cried out.

Brenda’s heart thumped in her chest, she squeezed Brian’s hand till it hurt him.

Barbarella smiled serenely and little Bobby jumped up and down screaming his head off “ Billy! Billy! Billy!”

“Billy Bun.” The announcer finally said.

Billy waved and Brenda knew he was waving to her.

Brian’s chest swelled so much a few currants popped out and his mouth went dry.

A hush came over the Stadium. Except a Krispy Kreme nearby humming a rock and roll tune that Brian recognised to his annoyance.

The contestants knelt with their bums in the air.

“Bang!”

Brenda jumped up. The others stood.

The Meringue stumbled forward and fell flat on his face and the others raced up the track in a blur. Dennis and Billy seemed to reach the tape first but together.

It was all over so quickly.

The announcer announced that they would have to study a photo to see who won. “Number One and number eight,”   he said.

Brenda couldn’t understand.

“Why a photo?”

Brian laughed, “It is a camera on the finishing line,” he explained,” it will tell who was just in front by hundredths of a second.

Brenda had never heard of hundredths of seconds. Minutes, hours and even seconds but…..

“Who won?”  asked Barbarella.

“Billy!” shouted little Bobby.

Brian was now trembling with nerves, Brenda felt faint.

At last the loudspeaker crackled.

“And the winner is………” he hesitated like they do on The Bakery’s Got Talent TV Show.

Brenda still held her breath, Brian his.

“Billy Bun!”  The announcer eventually announced.

Billy was running towards them with a bun flag rippling out behind him from outstretched arms as he raced towards his family.

Brian,Brenda and Barbarella gathered Billy up in their arms and little Bobby danced around the group hug in circles screaming his head off. “Team BB, team BB,team BB! Team BB!”

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