Friendship or FIENDship Bread
or what fresh (baked) Hell is this?
Okay, so there's this recipe that comes around every few years for Amish Friendship Bread. On the surface it looks benign enough. It's one of those deals where a buddy hands you a baggie containing ecru colored goo, AKA a starter and a sheet of paper with instructions for the care and feeding of said bag 'o goo.
When it's all said and done, the end result is mighty tasty, but here's the deal--it takes ten freaking days and 28 pounds of sugar and flour to get to the eating part! No shit.
This is no ordinary confection. No. It demands a commitment. Holding out on its delectable creamy center, teasing you with its tempting mouth-watering aroma until you get on one knee and pledge your undying devotion to it. And even then when you take the leap of faith, there are STILL strings attached.
This must be what it's like being a horny guy. "Hey, babe. I'm not asking for a lifetime, just a little sugar."
Then its last demonic act is to make you involve your friends. It demands you suck them into the cycle of satanic stew by forcing you to split the batter into FOUR MORE starters--one for you to keep in order to perpetuate your own personal madness--the other three to thrust upon your unsuspecting pals, propelling them into their own nut bread nightmare where they can chase down their friends with the baggies...who will chase down their friends...who will chase down their friends...
And so it goes on and on in perpetuity... starters passed from one to the other, friends ignoring phone calls and avoiding eye contact for fear of receiving yet another bag 'o life-sucking slop until one of you has the strength and courage to break the cake or death circle and throw...the...bag...OUT!!
Then we can all breath easy until one day, when you least expect it, there's a knock on the door and sitting on your stoop is a baggie filled with...
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Friendship bread, my ass. More like fucking FIENDship bread.
I need an old priest and a new priest...
