The old man raised an eyebrow as he looking at me slumped 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. I then explained everything that happened prior to him finding me.

“I should have locked the back door when I stepped out to give my little feline buddy Kevin some milk,” the old man said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Listen, kid, you can't just go breaking into people's shops. I'm going to let you off this time, but don't do anything this foolish again. Nice llama pajamas, by the way.”

" Uhh sorry, it won't happen again… and thank you, but they're alpacas.” I said. Wait…Did he say the cat's name was Kevin? Isn’t that Autumns…No probably just a coincidence.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” The baker said. I raised an eyebrow and was about to defend my onesie, but he continued. “The guys hunting you, that's your problem. You need to make smarter choices. Your reckless behavior involved that poor cab driver just trying to make an honest living and now you've dragged my shop into your drama.”

The old man was right. I was in such a panic I didn’t realize I would put other people's lives in danger by not thinking quick on my feet and running aimlessly without a plan. “Uh…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. But if you remember only one thing from this encounter, remember this: Every decision has its own set of tradeoffs - good and bad. No choice is perfect, so be ready to accept whatever follows.” The old man put his hands on his hips “I’m sorry to scold you so much kid but you remind 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.”

My phone chimed again, reaching into my pocket. There was a message from Syd. “Hey, are you okay? Call me as soon as you can,” she texted. There was no time to text her back now. I have to make sure I'm out of the weeds first.

“Hey, are you checking your phone during my speech?” the baker said, folding his arms and shaking his head. “By the way, what’s your name, boy?”

“It’s Tom and sorry, my girlfriend has been trying to get in touch with me.” I said, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “I really should get..."

Bullets pierced the store's front window and entrance, sending a wave of bullets cascading from front to rear to find us. "Get down!" I screamed, grabbing the old man and pulling him down underneath the large kitchen table.

Bullets transformed the kitchen into chaos - the three stand mixers sparked and died. Oven glass exploded outward in sharp shards. Bullets riddled the fridge until coolant leaked everywhere. The dishwasher sparked and died while the water heater burst, flooding the flour-covered floor with scalding water."

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 cash register that were still sparking. The hand painted "The 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 broke 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 no, sir, we need to get you to a hospital fast!" I said, looking around for something to stop the bleeding.

"Don't waste your time saving 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 great on gas, so you’ll be able to get pretty far without having to make any stops." The baker coughed more blood onto his shirt.

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

"I'm 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 definitely llamas." The Muffin Man laughed again before going into another coughing fit.

I lifted the chest part of my onesie and looked at the animals a bit closer. Oh fuck, he’s right! "Thank you, sir, again truly," I said, looking back at him, but there was no response. The Muffin Man’s eyes were closed, and he had a large grin on his face.

The Muffin Man was gone.

I could hear murmuring 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 crawled to the main entrance and left the bakery. Clicking the unlock button, the car parked in front of me came to life and the lights blinked. Persephone was a brand-new Prius Prime. The Muffin Man had some serious dough. Getting in the car, I pressed the start engine 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 mob’s hit list, because I picked the wrong day to indulge in my guilty pleasure of people watching. Then I got the Muffin Man killed. On top of all that, I bought the wrong onesie!

Sometimes life truly does suck.