10 years later, wife believes I have acquired a mistress. She files divorce, and my bank statements are entered into the court as part of the divorce proceedings. The baguette vendor I visit every night when i sneak out to buy a baguette happens to be located next to the alleged mistresse's address (wife believes I was banging her and eating baguettes, in reality the only temptress was the baguette's vendor's sweet sweet tales of doughy goodness), and now in a number of US states I now owe her increased alimony for a "fault" divorce.

I walk sadly down to the baguette shop, sobbing into my smartphone, where I beg using my tiny remains after the divorce proceeding to buy just one stale baguette. The shopkeep takes pity and pulls last weeks remains out of the trash bin.

As the salt of my tears mix with the mold of the stale baguette, I sit in torment "why didn't I pay in Monero!"

-------- Epilogue -------

3 months later, I join the legion etrangere, the last respite for a soul with no money, no skills, and no baguettes. I have no family to miss me, and any wages I get in the civilian life are garnished. I'm deployed to Mali, a land of no baguettes. 5 more days until I finally get my 200 Euro's pay -- I finally can order a baguette. I hear a loud sound. Several tribesman surround me with pointed sticks. My FAL jams, and I feel the warm fiery sensation of the sticks piercing my organs, as the life force drains out of me. One more baguette was all I wanted. If only I had bought my baguettes with a fungible untraceable currency.