The day was as unremarkable as a blank canvas, the monotonic drone of life humming its usual tune. You performed your daily routine with an almost robotic precision: breakfast, work, lunch, lulling boredom... and then 'grocery shopping'. As you roamed through aisle after aisle with a zombie-like expression, something pulled your gaze towards the innocuous bread section. One particular packet of sliced bread seemed to radiate an unusual allure — it was like a siren's call, impossible to ignore.

You plucked it from the shelf without second thought — oblivious to the extraordinary sequence you've just set in motion. Arriving home, you barely managed to put away rest of your groceries before the bag began shaking violently. Alarmed and incredulous, you watched as something within thrashed and thumped.

Will you stop twiddling your thumbs and open this forsaken plastic prison?

A deep voice emanated from within the bag. Following a few more desperate jerks, the bag ruptured and out tumbled... slices of bread?

Before you could react or even blink for that matter, they coalesced into a blinding flash that flooded every nook of your kitchen. When the light receded... there stood in front of you — impressive in his stature and commanding in his presence — a man dressed impeccably in a black suit.

At long last!

He straightened his tie with one hand while smoothing back his slick black hair with another.

John Sliced, God of Sliced Bread. Quite nice to meet you.