Please don't put LSD in my Wonderbread

Okay- I have lived in my current town for almost 6 years now, and for 6 years I have driven past this bizarro store and wondered in confusion as I read its sign:

"Bakery Thrift Store".

Huh? What the stink is a bakery thrift store?

I mean, I know what heaven a bakery is: Delicious doughy carbs covered in high-caloric glaze.

And I know what a thrift store is: Where I dump all my clothes I'm too fat for and then they let other people buy my sweaters that already smell like my deodorant and pants that probably still have remnants of poop and snot permanently crusted on them (I work with a lot of old people and kids...bound to happen.)

But "bakery" + "thrift store" together just totally confuses me and makes me go to a bad place...

The only thing I can assume goes on inside those walls are that little old ladies bring in their week-old homemade bread that has gone uneaten but that their cats have started to nibble on. The thrift store owner gives them money, and then turns around and sells the bread to someone who doesn't mind stale bread with hairballs on it.

This is totally an accurate guess, right?

Or, all my local sex offenders bake roofies into some innocent looking cinnamon buns, then they wait outside the store to see who buys them, and then follow that person home and just lay in wait.

Totally plausible.

I know our economy is totally in the toilet, but whatever this "Bakery Thrift Store" place is, I am SOOOOO not there yet financially to even *think* about darkening the doors.

Now excuse me, I have to go dent some cans of soup at Walmart so I can get them at a discounted price.

Cellulite and Tell You Right,
Andy