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CRISPY ALERT: A 7.30-METER BAGUETTE ON THE RUN SCATTERS CRUMBS DOWNTOWN

In Saint-Pourçain-sur-Mer, the “Basilica of Wheat,” a giant display baguette, woke up at 5:02 a.m., smashed its display case, and sped toward the harbor at the speed of a scooter.
Since then, sidewalks are streaked with jam, pigeons are walking in slow motion, and residents say they can hear a faint “crunch-crunch” with each step of the getaway.

Baker Achille Flan, the stunned owner, swears he tried nothing illegal. He had let the dough “live its little life” in the cellar, kept warm on a cushion of ancestral sourdough starter and near a recalcitrant dehumidifier. “When I opened up, it looked at me—well… I felt a crumbly gaze—then it leapt, took the banister like a slide, and ciao,” he recounts, still dusted with flour right up to his eyebrows.

Several witnesses confirm the buttery scent trail and the “breakfast-serpent” undulation of the specimen. A lady says she saw the baguette swallow a pink umbrella “to make itself a sugar cane.” A child tried throwing cheese to tame it: strategic error; the beast reportedly rolled faster, “as if Gruyère were fuel.” Firefighters, called for an “unidentified long moving object,” laid anti-slip mats made of breadcrumbs, to no avail.

Experts at the National Institute of Yumology speak of an extremely rare phenomenon of turbulent thermoleaven, where heat, salt, and baker’s pride create self-propulsion. “Technically, we’re dealing with a jet-propelled loaf,” says Prof. Édith Grumeau, brandishing a whisk-shaped thermometer. “I recommend staying calm, hydrating the sidewalks, and, as a last resort, a collective chant of ‘Bread-Bread-Panini’ to lull it to sleep.”

At press time, the Basilica of Wheat had reportedly been spotted near the jetty, trying to camouflage itself among schools of white sausages. The city has deployed a giant net scented with onion soup, an “irresistible olfactory trap,” according to the instructions. As for Achille Flan, he promises an off-the-wall reward: “A year of toast for life to whoever brings it back to me in one piece. If it comes back on its own, I’ll give it the middle oven and Sundays off to rest.”

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