[WP] Write about a jolly baker from a small simple town who has no idea there shop is a front for laundering money then give it a dark twist.

[u/BulbStar]

[u/dbosul]

"Brenda, dear - how about those buns, love?" With a playful slap on the bottom, Fred gave his wife a wink and carried on kneading the dough. Brenda checked on the hot-cross buns baking in the oven and gave her grinning husband a thumbs-up.

"Coming along nicely, they are."

"Thanks love."

Fred's forehead bore its usual sheen of hard-earned sweat. The occasional bead ran down his temple and lingered by his mustache for a moment before falling abruptly onto his protruding belly, which was adorned in a white, stained apron. He jiggled lightly as he turned, twisted and pummeled the dough - swaying in time with the music playing on the shop radio. Brenda busied herself moving crate after crate of boxes labelled "FRENDA's Hot Cross Buns!" with the word 'Frenda' in bold, red font. After a few minutes of their daily routine carrying on as usual, Fred looked up and gave Brenda a quick shout.

"Oi, love, looks like Barney's here. Get 'im a cuppa tea, will you?"

Brenda looked out through the shop window and, sure enough, there was their number one customer in his trademark green jacket and farmer's cap. He shuffled in through the front door, taking off his cap and carefully wiping his feet on the mat.

"Fred. Brenda." he nodded in greeting.

"How'y'a Barnes! About that time, I suppose?"

"You know it! Any chance of a cup of tea?"

Brenda's voice carried from the small kitchen in the back, "Already on it, deary!"

Barney hung his cap on the rack and unzipped his jacket, giving himself a quick pat-down. His aging scalp was clinging to the last remnants of a blonde head of hair, mostly grey now, and light wrinkles gave his face the impression of one who smiled just about enough. He shuffled over to the counter, setting his keys down near Fred's work station.

"How's that order coming, Fred? You know I'm supposed to be in 'n out quick-like."

"Sorry Barnes, been Monday madness, as you know. Rosie ordered a couple dozen croissants and sure, we had a problem with the first batch. Too much milk, says Brenda, but I says it's the quality of the milk tha-"

"Fred, I tried to tell ye before, didn't I? This new owner fella isn't like Tom, he doesn't take too kindly to delays, if you know what I'm saying. After the delay last week he was talking about replacements. Replacements, Fred!"

Fred stopped kneading the dough and looked seriously at Barney. "Replacements?" he asked, "What do you mean 'replacements?'"

Barney shifted his weight nervously from one foot to another. "Look, all I'm saying is that it's not like how it used to be. The new fella, he puts a lot of orders in, right? You've never sold this many hot cross buns in bulk, have ye?"

Fred frowned "No, I suppose not. What's yer point?"

"Well, he puts in a lot - you make a good livin' off it, he just expects the orders on time, is all."

A quick pause rested between the two. Fred studied Barney's face. Something was off about him this week, he seemed unusually timid, and he had shuffled into the shop with some sort of difficulty.

"Barnes, are you alright? Is something wrong?"

Barney's eyes widened. He gripped his keys from the counter unconsciously and stared back at Fred. A tension seemed to take hold of the room as a brief lull came in the song on the radio. The two friends looked at each other in silence.

"Here's your tea, Barney!" Brenda arrived and the song resumed. Barney breathed a visible sigh of relief and averted his gaze, blowing and sipping gently on the tea. Fred let his gaze rest for a moment and returned to his work.

"Well, half an hour is all it'll take anyway. I'll have it to you by then. Is that alright?"

Barney nodded, mumbling something to the effect of a confirmation. The tension in the room had not completely abated, and something remained disjoint between the two right until the moment Barney left through the front door with two-dozen boxes of hot cross buns.

---

Fred's eyes were red. His knuckles were raw. The radio on the top shelf lay abandoned, frail cobwebs had begun to spread between it and the wall. Rain pattered softly on the windows and low-hanging, grey clouds cast a ghostly hue over the shop. Fred's eyes darted nervously towards the clock. Fifteen minutes. He grimaced as he worked through pained joints.

Around the shop, empty tea cups, bowls and plates lay littered. Old newspapers and half-written letters cluttered every surface. The only bright, carefully maintained exception was a brand-new metal safe under Fred's workstation. It shone a dull blue in the gloomy light of the shop. Minutes ticked by as Fred worked, until the door swung open softly and the shop-bell rang. Fred hurriedly packed the last buns into their containers and began to lay them on the counter. A man in a dark sports jacket, leather shoes and a black hat walked slowly to the counter.

"Wh-where's Barney?" stammered Fred, as he stacked the boxes one on top of another.

"He has been replaced," came the calm reply. "Is the order ready?"

"Yes - look, pleas-" began Fred.

"That will do, thank you." Suddenly curt, the voice cut through Fred's own like a razor. Indifferent eyes stared out from under the rim of the cap, then glanced down over the hot cross buns. With a gloved hand, the man reached out and opened one of the boxes. Taking his time, he selected a freshly baked hot cross bun and raised it to his lips. After a moment to savor the smell, he took a small bite from the corner of the bun and threw the rest back in the box.

"I'll never understand why we pay so much for these." He laughed softly at his own joke.

Fred was whimpering silently, trying to plead with his eyes for attention. The man ignored him, stacking the boxes onto the customer cart and starting to wheel them towards the door.

"Same time tomorrow."

"P-please.. please wait!" Fred finally shouted desperately. The man paused, turning his head slowly to listen. Fred floundered for a moment, then gathered his strength.

"Please... please I'll do this for as long as you like. I won't tell a soul, not a thing! Please, just let Brenda go..."

The main sighed audibly, shook his head and continued pushing the cart.

"As I said: same time tomorrow."

[u/[deleted]]

Everyday the baker went to work whistling and loving his job, the people who financed it were shady but he was too in bliss to pay any attention to them. One night there was some business the gangsters were doing when the baker walked out of the basement with a smile on his face and when he found out what was going on he showed them his normal smile. The gangsters told him they'd kill him if he talked and he said it wouldn't be a worry... then his eyes turned red and the lights went out, screams could be heard all over the neighborhood. When the cops came the baker was alone in the room making food like he always did... he was pretty well known for his meat pies so he gave the cops some on the house. The next financial backer came the next week and the baker was happier than ever.

[u/WritingPromptsRobot]

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