You might know about the monster that lurks under the front passenger seat of my car. Croissanzilla. A piece of pastry that refuses to decay. Bought at the start of July 2013 at Tesco and showing no signs of mould. A little desiccated perhaps, but otherwise robustly oblivious of the march of time.
I have to accept that Croissanzilla will be around for a while yet. In that vein, the pastry deserves at least a gender. Is a croissant a he or a she?
Turns out Croissanzilla is male. “Le croissant”.
I imagine him as a leathery mariner from Marseille. I hear they breed them tough in that city. A no-nonsense sort of pastry that would back down for nobody. Irascible and indelible. Big on attitude. Scary.
I tell you this: steal my car at your peril. He’ll rip your ears off.