Einstein Bros Refuses To Add Poop Bagels to Menu, Chaos Ensues

By Annabel Friedman | Photo by Tara Mullaney

In the realm of food with holes, there have been some pretty memorable trends: rainbow bagels, cronuts, bleached assholes, swiss cheese, you name it. Reinventing this scene, we now have poop bagels. 

Some more hip cafes have already jumped on the trend, with Pavement already bringing quarter scoop and full scoop options to select shops around Boston. They’re the talk of the town! Yet, the CAS basement Einstein Bros. had yet to come around to such a genius idea. 

After walking into the establishment excited to try a poop bagel, all I got was shit. When I was told they couldn’t accommodate my order, I was given a crusty ass piece of bread with cream cheese the texture of semen. I could feel my Ashkenazi ancestors rolling in their graves.

I decided to combat this iss-poo from the source. After an unassuming job search on BU job listings, Einstein Bros was practically begging me to take the job. They took me through the works, I saw how the sausage was made (both literally and figuratively, it’s not pretty. DO NOT eat the Einstein Bros sausage). 

I decided to start my poop bagel agenda by understanding my consumer base. On day two, I brought my charisma to the front register. A girl approached me, asking for an everything bagel.

“Do you want everything on there?” I said with a wink. 

“What?” she inquired.

“Do you want a bit of poop on there?” I whispered seductively, an enticing look in my eye.

Her face fell, she was taken aback. She runs away in tears, causing a scene. A miss, you’ll get the next one.

For the next customer, I decided to be a bit more discrete. While the customer was in front of me staring at the menu, I mumbled repeatedly, “Poop bagel, poop… poop… poop…” 

He looked at me like he came up with the idea himself, eyes all lit up.

“Hey, do you guys do poop bagels?” he asked.

Booyah.

I leaned in. “They’re not technically on the menu, but I can do that for you.” I said quietly,

“Meet me out back in five minutes.”

He nodded. 

Out back, hoods up, we exchanged the package. He kissed me on the mouth. “Thank you,” he said. 

The next day as I woke up for my shift, there were hundreds of notifications on my phone. Oh my god, he texted the WHOLE SCHOOL. 

At Einstein Bros, there was a line all the way up the CAS basement hallway and out the door. “I’ll get a bacon egg and poop on sesame. Lemme get a double scoop poop, I could use the protein,” a customer said.

“What the fuck? We don’t do that. Why is everyone asking for poop?” The cashier cried. 

“Hey, new girl, get in the back right now,” My manager barked. 

We went to the back. The manager slammed a poop bagel down on the counter. “Was this you? People are going crazy over these,” he pressed on, “This is a crazy health code violation, you’re SO fired.”

 I slammed my hands on the desk. “You think that will stop us?? Do you SEE the crowd? They are all here for poop. This can’t be stopped by your silly health-code agenda.”

As I walked out of the office, the aroma of fecal matter filled my nose. The supporters were revolting. It was everywhere. 

“WE WANT POOP, QUARTER SCOOP, GIVE US POOP…” they chanted repeatedly.

My feet lifted off the ground and I was carried outside, being paraded down Comm Ave. Supporters were shitting everywhere, making supply for the revolution of tomorrow. 

So please, next time you’re at Einstein’s, stand in solidarity: ask for a poop bagel.