And verily it came to pass, that a yeast shortage came upon the land, and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. "Give us this day, our Daily Bread", shouted the masses, but the priests could only offer Pop-Tarts and the promise of a brighter future. Even the chocolate frosted ones brought no solace, no comfort. Farmers released their aging swine into the streets; the lack of bread meant no ham sandwiches, or even SPAM sandwiches, and they kept procreating because they were, after all, pigs. Peanut farmers’ fields lay fallow, as baseball was not sufficient for them to reap and sow. Tomatoes ripened and then died on the vine, and cucumbers shriveled in lieu of pickeldom. Children cried out "Spaghetti, Again?" on Tuesday and Thursday nights. Two score and ten left them without ales, alas the beverage known as "Bud" only incited the masses to cry out obscenities and the names of their favorite sports teams. The pleas for peace from His Eminence, the newly elected Pope Porous V, the former Cardinal Dunkin were soon merely echoing in the halls of the Fatican. Matzoh and Foccacia tried to stem the tide, but soon the chants, of "No Yeast, No Peace!" and "All we are saying, is give Yeast a chance" soon drowned out those seeking calm and order. Cheese and crackers were no substitute for Heros and Heifenweizen.
Then, one day, when all seemed lost, a stranger appeared. He appeared to be a gypsy, a drifter who was not to be trusted. The first thing people noticed about him was the smell, a slightly fermented smell. That something was a rye, was evident to those with strong memories. "Who are you, they asked, their noses filling with nostalgia and want. "I am a visitor from – the Yeast (like you didn’t see that one coming), and I bear tidings of joy and prosperity to you. Take these seeds and sow them according to the ancient ways, and thou shalt be rewarded." All you must do is be kind to one another, feed the poor, and give everyone a home of their own. But in their selfishness, they set upon him, killed him, and took his stores. They immediately used the yeast to bake bread, make beer, and pretzels, and it was not long until, in their carbo-loaded drunkenness, the precious enzyme had been spent.
The skies grew dark, and the ground shook. The clouds parted to reveal God, herself, nicely attired in a Donna Karan original. "What you have done to the yeast of thieves, you have done unto me! From this day forth, it will come to you again, but to use yeast with anything less than temperance will bring obesity, insanity, and your heads will pound with the reverberations of a thousand hammers in the morning!" And so it was. Nothing had really changed, but there were more headaches.
The End.
