Haute House

By Eric Farrell

Eccentric, mercurial, and as dashing as ever, Kaspar Buchnevich sits behind their gaudy desk and eyes down the private eye standing before them.

“Yee Elwood?” Kaspar verifies.

Elwood, a milquetoast, run-of-the-mill private eye, stutters uncertainly.

“…we are commencing Operation Sugar Cookie Backbone,” Buchnevich, of conservative upper crust, declares. He has already wired money to the account of the diminutive, pallid sleuth. Buchnevich is revered amongst the blue crowd, gently rolling on the waves of sunset canals. He's rich enough to keep the slovenly gumshoe interested:

“Boutique bakeries have orchestrated a scheme the like of which we have never seen,” Kaspar continues. “These haute-house-sourdough-starters have banded together to form an axis of so-called super-yeast. They are breeding something, you see. Selectively breeding a composite yeast out of all of their respective starters, with the intent on poisoning citizens and dismantling our society.”

“R-right,” Elwood stutters. The Dogecoin mogul extraordinaire sits across from him, an overnight billionaire basking in his fifteen minutes of fame. Kaspar Buchnevich wields enough influence to warrant hearing him out. He speaks with conviction, issuing the terms of the transaction.

“I will pay a sum of 50 Dogecoins for the conviction of these baking terrorists. The super strain has been integrated as the starter yeast for all sixteen of the city’s new bakeries. That yeast has begun to infect our brains. Detective Elwood, we are losing time. I implore, can you help us? Can you stop this?”

“Let’s get this bread” Yee says, his soul swiftly disintegrating.