The old man raised an eyebrow as he looked down at me on his pantry floor. “You alright, boy? I’ve owned this shop for years, and usually when you catch thieves in your pantry, they don’t have a giant smile across their face,” he said.

"I'm sorry I broke into your shop, but these men are after me, and I just needed to find a place I could hide and think of a plan," I said, standing up and putting the rolling pin back where I found it.

“Well, I stepped out to buy some milk for my little buddy Kevin, but you scared him off!” The old man said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look kid, you can't just go breaking into people's shops like that. I'm gonna let this slide, but promise me you won't pull something this crazy again, alright? And nice llama pajamas, by the way.”

"Uhh sorry, I should have thought more about my actions.” Did he say the cat's name was Kevin? Isn’t that Autumn's… No, probably just a coincidence. “Also thank you, but they're alpacas, and thank you.”

“Sure, you can keep thinking that if you want.” The baker said. I raised an eyebrow and was about to defend my onesie, but he continued. “That’s beside the point. Those men chasing you is your business. Think more carefully about the decisions that you make. Now you’ve involved my shop in your little mess.”

The Muffin man was right. I was in such a panic I didn’t realize other lives would be in danger because of me. “Yes sir, I’m sorry. I should’ve been more mindful.” I said

“It's okay; you're still wet behind the ears, so I really can’t blame you. If you remember nothing from this encounter, remember this: Your decisions carry weight, and every decision has tradeoffs. It's a bit off topic but it will be valuable as you get older. There is no such thing as a perfect decision; there will always be positive and negative tradeoffs. Make sure that whatever decision you make, you’ve thought about the tradeoffs.” The old man put his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry to scold you so much, kid. But this reckless behavior just reminds me so much of my son, and I wish I could say all of this to him, but he moved away a long time ago.”

Reaching into my pocket, there was a message from Syd. “Hey, are you okay? Call me as soon as you can,” she texted. I’ll respond to her when I leave.

“Hey, are you checking your phone while I'm trying to give you some wisdom?” the baker said, folding his arms and shaking his head. “By the way, what’s your name, boy?”

“It’s Tom Morningstar." I said

"Eww, that's a creepy last name." The baker said, "Anyway, who could be so important at this moment?"

"My girlfriend, she's been trying to get in touch with me since the mafiosos started chasing me.” I said, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “I really should get..."

Gunshots exploded through the storefront, and bullets ripped through the opening in the front counter, spraying into the kitchen where we stood. "Get down!" I screamed, grabbing the old man and pulling him down underneath the large table.  

Bullets transformed the baker's kitchen into chaos as three stand mixers sparked and died. Oven doors shattered and sprayed glass everywhere. Refrigerator walls were punctured so badly that coolant began leaking out. Dishwasher control panels burst into sparks while a water heater exploded, sending steam and hot water across flour-dusted floors.

A mixing bowl spun off the counter, spilling cake batter across the tile floor. The industrial mixer rocked with each impact, its stainless-steel surface now dented and scarred. Trays of fresh bread, laid on the counter to cool, were now scattered among broken ceramic bowls and measuring cups. In the sudden quiet, sugar and flour continued to drift down like snow, dusting the wreckage in a deceptively peaceful white coating.

When I heard the car outside peel off. I took a deep sigh of relief; thankful they decided not to check if they killed their target.

I looked up over the table and saw the once-charming storefront was now a skeleton of itself. Shattered glass from the windows carpeted the floor, mixing with scattered pastries and broken pieces of the cash register that was still sparking. The hand-painted "Muffin Man’s Bakery" sign hung askew from the top of the front counter, while overturned cafe tables and splintered chairs littered the checkered tiles beneath the smeared menu board.

The old man was the first to break the silence. "Boy. They’ve got me." Looking down, I saw there were three patches of blood growing from different locations in his torso.

"Oh fuck! We need to get you to a hospital fast!" I said, looking around for something to stop the bleeding.

"Don't waste your time trying to save the dead, Tom. Here, take my keys; you’ll need a getaway car.” The baker coughed, and more blood splattered on his shirt. “You’re in luck. I just filled up Persephone. She’s fantastic on gas, so you’ll be able to get pretty far and lose those motherfuckers." The baker started coughing more blood onto his shirt.

"Thank you so much, sir… before I go, you never gave me your name."

"You can call me the Muffin Man."

"Oh wow, I guess I can finally say I know the Muffin,Man."

"Fuck you,” the muffin man laughed, and then coughed more blood. “One last thing, you said those are alpacas on your PJ’s, you’re an idiot. Look at those long faces and banana-sized ears; those are clearly llamas." The Muffin Man laughed again before going into another coughing fit.

I lifted the chest part of my onesie and took a closer look. Oh, fuck, he’s right! "Thank you, sir, again truly for all that you have done for me." I said, looking back at him, but there was no response. The Muffin Man’s eyes were closed, and he had an enormous grin on his face.

The Muffin Man was gone.

I could hear murmurs coming from the back door. The men must have pulled around back; they were coming to check if they got me in their bullet storm. I cautiously made my way to the front door and escaped from the bakery. I clicked the unlock button on my key fob, and the car parked in front of me lit up with blinking lights. Persephone was a current-year Prius Prime. The muffin man had some serious dough. Getting in the car, I pressed the engine start button and got the hell out of there.

This was turning out to be an amazing Christmas eve. My prized cinnamon roll is currently splattered all over my living room floor. I’m now on the Russian mafia’s hit list because I picked the wrong day to enjoy my guilty pleasure of people watching. Then I got the Muffin Man killed. Now I just found out that I bought the wrong PJ’s and I’m wearing llamas.

Sometimes life truly does suck.