The Time I Made Bread, aka Aliens

Step #1: Easy part, sorta. I mixed stuff
 together and added green & yellow
food- colouring to make it ugly.

There's absolutely no one like Chelle and there's absolutely nothing like her hilarious contests and handmade (!) prizes. Last year, I missed the deadline but I entered anyway just 'cause she inspires me. Anyway, this year, I am determined to win Rhoda the Sock Zombie for my daughter's birthday. That's why I'm going for three entries plus (unlike some of you lazies who are just photo-shopping bread pictures). How so? I MADE bread today, my inaugural attempt. (Mrs. Tuna no doubt you are impressed. Recipe to follow.)

BUT OH THE CARNAGE! I will NEVER do this again.

My wife makes great bread but she was away for the weekend, so I just googled how to make bread and watched a few videos. (This is the same way I fixed my roof.) I chose somewhat-pixelated-Fuji-Mama's video because she looked like a real reliable Mom instead of the video by uh, the buxom hippie-lady in the tube-top, although that was indeed entertaining. (Insert Ricky-Bobby catch phrase here.)

Firstly, I thought I would make Oprah ugly-cry bread. As usual, I have no pea-brained idea what that even means but after I mixed the ingredients and added green & yellow food-colouring, I decided it would be Mountain Dew bread: DO THE DOUGH! Again I have no idea what I'm talking about. Anyway, after Step #1 my dough looked more like a hat created by Lagy Gaga in her I'm-easy-bake-oven. But whatever, I thought, I'll just let it rise. *deep breath* And then the CARNAGE began....

Step #2: During the pupae stage,
bread dough secretes the dreaded
clingy-girlfriend hormone.
(I think this caption deserves a
 fourth entry, don't you Chelle?)

It rose. And I coaxed it out of the bowl but well, no one told me bread has a pupae stage! It was like a scene from Aliens and I'm not brave like Sigourney Weaver. I started to sweat as I desperately attempted to flick off the larvae-globs of dough attempting to breed with my hands!

I intended to form the bread into bun shapes or maybe two pumpernickel-type loaves but I panicked because it would not stop trying to crawl inside me and so I attempted to cut it but then it tried to absorb the knife and it all became too David Cronenberg for me and I started to have that falling-down feeling inside and Ripley where are you?! but then the oven beeped me out of my reverie and I took a few deep breaths and resolved to continue furiously hacking the larvae into shapes and just ignored all the hissing and twisting and somehow that brought me to Step #3.

Step #3: The bread larvae stare at me.
(I think this caption deserves a
fifth entry, don't you Chelle?)

None too soon, I pushed those evil clumps in the oven, pulled out the hazmat gloves and did my very best kitchen/trauma-scene clean-up but then I pulled the plug and that's when I realized JUST HOW HEINOUS and tricky these bread-larvae really are!

Step #4: LOOK what the hell those
dough-larvae transformed into
at the bottom of the sink!
Dough worms?! Dough leeches?!
(I think this carnage photo-evidence
deserves a sixth entry, don't you Chelle?)

Meanwhile, those little bastards baked to death at 350. And well, twenty-five minutes later, out came bread, kinda ugly but real bread. Metamorphosis complete, I mixed up some tuna with pickles and miracle whip and ate one. But now I can't help thinking that maybe something is growing inside me like what happened to Ripley. Something, I don't know, like a sock-zombie. Right Chelle? Am I right? Right? Pretty please?

Step #5: Actual bread.
How the hell did this happen?

Metamorphosis Bread, A Recipe
~5 1/4 cups flour (I think I just used 5)
~1/4 cup sugar
~1/2 tablespoon salt
~1.5 tablespoons yeast I found in our fridge
~1.5 tablespoons oil (I used canola oil.)
~2 cups hot tap water
~food-colouring (optional)

Mix for 5 minutes. Let rise for in a warm, moist, dare-I-say breeding area for 25 minutes, then fashion the pupae into bun shapes or whatever; this requires lots of time if you're going to freak out like I did. If you panic just push it all together in some sort of smush-loaf. Bake for 25 minutes at 350 degrees. (I'm guessing Celsius because I live in Canada but we are a culture that recklessly mixes imperial and metric all the time so good luck with this part.) Anyway, after all this, the pupae are baked and can no longer attack you unless you forget to let them cool.