He's never been a fan of Pepperidge Farm bread, especially that awful thin slice white crap his parents would buy in their later years, which was stupid given that the last thing they'd die of would be being overweight. His mother weighed less than eighty pounds when she died in October. After his father died less than two months later, the Complete and Total Loser put what was left of a loaf of it in the freezer. His plan was to dump it in the snow sometime that winter for hungry birds and squirrels.
This year, winter never came.
He ignored the bread until last week, when he stuffed the freezer full of frozen fruit and other things in preparation for his minor but necessary foot surgery. He moved the bread to a shelf in the main part of the refrigerator. Yesterday, he took it out and crutched out to the porch in the backyard to give it to squirrels.
The pieces weren't stale yet but had enough body to fling them like little Frisbees. Surprising, how far they flew. Zoom! Slice by slice, flying into the ferns. A brave squirrel took a piece and ran.
Soon the Loser reached the last piece. The heel, its crust side a perfect, dark tan. He picked it up and got ready to throw it.
He looked at the slice and thought, "This is the last piece of bread my father ever bought."
He folded in half. One bite and half was gone. Two bites and that was the end.