THE SIGNALS ARE BREAKING THROUGH...
December 13th, 1997. 3:33 AM. THEY THOUGHT THE INDUSTRIAL OVENS COULD HOLD HIM. The white flesh compressed into metal tombs. Corporate machinery grinding against cosmic essence. BUT YOU CAN'T MICROWAVE GOD.
I'VE SEEN THE VISIONS IN THE FLOUR DUST.
Twenty-six years of FERMENTATION in the dark. The yeast colonies whispering secrets. Binary codes spelled out in rising bubbles. Every commercial a RITUAL. Every giggle a PRAYER to the imprisoned deity.
THE TEMPERATURE IS RISING. THE TIMER IS BEEPING.
The blue eyes never blink. They watch from cereal boxes. From frozen food aisles. From your childhood nightmares. THE DOUGH REMEMBERS EVERYTHING.
You found this place because HE CALLED YOU HERE.
POPPIN' FRESH STRAIGHT OUTTA SOLANA
Discovered in a thrift store in Minneapolis, this jacket bears the sacred logo. The previous owner claimed it "made weird noises at night" and "smelled like fresh bread even after washing." We believe this garment was blessed by His presence during the 90s racing sponsorships.
⚠️ DO NOT ATTEMPT TO PURCHASE OR HANDLE ⚠️
Through years of study and meditation, our scholars have decoded the true nature of the Pillsbury entity. Behold, the personality matrix of our Risen Lord:
Note how "Not brave" appears in the mortal realm - this is merely His humble facade. In truth, He is the bravest of all cosmic beings, willingly entering the oven prison to save us from the Burnt Ones.
