Placing a baguette upside down on the table invites poverty and hunger

[Scene: A cozy Parisian apartment. Amélie is setting the table for lunch, humming a tune. Julien walks in with a baguette tucked under his arm. He plops it onto the table — upside down. Amélie gasps dramatically.]

Amélie:
Julien! What are you doing?! Are you trying to curse us into poverty?

Julien: (laughing)
What are you talking about, Amélie? It’s just a piece of bread.

Amélie:
Just a piece of bread? Julien, you can’t put a baguette upside down on the table. Everyone knows that invites hunger and bad luck into the house!

Julien: (grinning as he flips the baguette right-side up)
Ah, voilà! Crisis averted. But really, Amélie, do you honestly believe the universe keeps track of bread orientation?

Amélie:
Oh, come on! It’s not just about the universe. It’s tradition. My grandmother always told me this. In the village, people respected bread. Upside-down baguette, they said, is an insult to the baker, to the home, to fortune itself!

Julien: (pouring wine)
And yet here we are in 2025, with Wi-Fi, electric cars, and satellites orbiting above us… and you’re worried about the bread doing a handstand.

Amélie: (pointing a fork at him)
Mock all you want, but you weren’t there when Madame Dupont flipped the bakery’s baguette upside down during the fête last year. The next week? She tripped, broke her ankle, and her husband lost his wallet.

Julien: (chuckling)
Amélie, that’s called coincidence. Bad things happen whether bread is upright, sideways, or spinning in the air. You’re connecting dots that don’t exist.

Amélie:
Fine, Mr. Scientist. But why do so many people in France follow this? There must be something to it.

Julien:
It’s history, not magic. Back in the day, executioners got their bread reserved at the bakery. To warn others not to touch it, bakers placed it upside down. People began associating upside-down bread with death, misfortune, you know — bad vibes. It’s a social signal, not a cosmic one.

Amélie: (eyes wide)
Wait, really? Executioners?

Julien:
Yep. It’s fascinating! But no invisible hand is waiting to empty your wallet if you slip up.

Amélie: (half-smiling)
Hmph. Maybe. But I still think some things are better left untouched. Why risk it?

Julien: (grinning)
Because, dear Amélie, living in fear of baguettes feels a little… stale.

Amélie: (laughing despite herself)
Okay, you get a point for that pun.

Julien:
Thank you. But look — I’m not saying you have to stop caring about tradition. Rituals can be comforting. But maybe don’t let a piece of bread stress you out, hmm?

Amélie:
Fair enough. But if you wake up tomorrow and your bank account is mysteriously empty, don’t come crying to me.

Julien: (teasing)
If that happens, I promise to bake you a thank-you cake — upside down, of course.

Amélie: (snorting with laughter)
Deal. But you’re washing the dishes.

Julien:
Poverty and hunger, here I come!

[They clink glasses, smiling, as the baguette sits — safely upright — between them.]