Why Not White Bread?

Why Not White Bread?
Jack took out the creased piece out of his crisp starched jeans and stared at it blankly , chewing on his already chapped lower lip .
“ Go to Kobbs Grocery Store and buy one loaf of pumpernickel bread . Just one and you don’t have to stay there long. And No, Absolutely NO! running.
A note written by the insatiable Dr Marx, simple, concise, his assignment for the day….Well week really. Actually it was something he had been supposed to do for the last two months. BUT Dr Marx had told him today was going to be the day , he had a feeling . Dr Marx was all about feelings, guess he had to be…or maybe he was just annoying that way.
Jack grimaced wondering if Marx, or Ole Shoebert as he liked to call him deep in the recesses of his back brain, had ever felt the spontaneous stickiness of cold sweat running down his back, pooling in his armpits while walking through those automatic doors. They could close on you at any second, totally dismembering you in the space of a neuron synapse. With technology today you never knew, it could be faulty or even worse have developed a kind of artificial intelligence, killing humanoids off for jollies.
And the people …oh the people, putting their grimy infected hands on everything; you never knew quiet what a person could be carrying nowadays. Or what if they were aliens, and not the illegal kind, studying him pronouncing his brain would look awfully tasty with a side of tartar sauce, spindly fingers caressing ray guys hidden underneath cotton pockets. What…it could happen.
Jack did not like Dr Marx. He wore loafers and not just any loafers, but ones that could have been purchased at a friendly corner store right after the Big Bang. So worn down that Marx could cover the broken down hells with his standard argyle socks, the kind that women with craft fetishes liked to make into sock monkeys. Sock monkeys that could have little cameras in them that enabled the government to watch your every step or quiver.
No, Jack did not like Dr Marx and pumpernickel, why always pumpernickel, why not white or wheat! Jack absolutely despised pumpernickel, he had never tried it of course, but just the name made him nauseous.
Jack glanced again at the blue ink and took a gulp of air that couldn’t quiet reach his lungs. His eyes wandered to the red Chevy that would transport him to Kobbs Market.
It was so bright that it would probably distract the other drivers, causing a five car pile up which would send him flying through his windshield and into someone’s impeccably groomed yard back broken, body discarded.
He took one long step back into his doorway, onto his Formica tile. Nope, no grocery store today.
Why couldn’t it be white bread, he would have been able to do it if it had been white bread.