The Baker of Munich – A Magical Fairy Tale of Love and Cake
Long ago, in a sleepy hamlet nestled near the city of Munich—then called München—there lived a baker named William. Back in those days, when Prussia still stood tall and traditions ran deep, baking was more than just an art—it was a way of life. William, known locally as “William Baker,” was not just a baker by trade but by heart, soul, and every calloused finger he owned.
He never used recipes, not just because he couldn’t read, but because he didn’t need them. He had trained under a master baker for ten long years, absorbing knowledge passed down like ancient spells. Baking was a sacred ritual. He knew exactly when his wood-fired kiln was ready—by smell, by warmth, and by instinct alone.
William’s world was small. He lived alone above his bakery in a tiny one-room flat, watching the cobbled street below. Before the sun crested the hills, townsfolk knocked on his door, eager for warm bread, sugar-dusted buns, and twists of dough to pair with their coffee. His days passed in a rhythmic blur—kneading, icing, sweeping, baking. Night would fall, and again the fire would be lit. And so the cycle repeated.
Though considered successful, William was deeply alone. He never thought much of himself and had little to say beyond flour and yeast. His smile was rare and polite, never joyful. Even when young women tried to court him, he only saw them as customers—unless they inquired about cream buns, in which case he could speak endlessly (and quite tediously).
One day, an extravagant request came his way. A wealthy family, who had made their fortune selling underwear—but were terribly ashamed of it—were arranging a lavish wedding for their daughter and a prince with a face like a startled horse. They commissioned William to bake the grandest wedding cake Munich had ever seen.
“It must be gigantic,” declared the father.
“With unicorns!” added the mother.
“And geese!” he insisted.
“It should taste like heavenly butter!”
“It should glow! It should dazzle!”
“And,” they both shouted, “it must have absolutely NOTHING to do with underpants!”
William, though skeptical, agreed. They were paying handsomely after all. But that night, he lay awake, haunted by doubt. “How can I bake a cake like that? No matter what I do, it will never be enough!”
Unbeknownst to him, a goblin named Pungust was lurking in the rafters. Goblins, like many magical folk, are bursting with magic—but may only use it for others. And Pungust saw an opportunity for mischief.
As William slept, Pungust whispered a sinister rhyme:
“Pungust I am, a goblin friend,
I’ll make your cake, if an ear you’ll lend.
A magical cake, a wondrous confection,
But to make it I’ll need a young maiden’s affection.”
Pungust’s plan was simple: enchant William, have him lure a young woman into the room, and whisk her away to Fairyland. “Maybe,” the goblin snickered, “they’ll both be eaten. Fairyland isn’t all cotton-candy and unicorns, you know.”
The Strange Days that Followed
The next morning, William felt oddly optimistic. But something strange began to happen.
At 10:15, a cheerful milkmaid entered. “Lardy cakes, please,” she said.
“Come up to my bedroom,” William blurted out. SLAP.
At 10:50, a newlywed couple arrived.
“Two croissants,” said the husband.
“And a gingerbread for me,” said the wife.
“Come up to my bedroom,” William offered again.
PUNCH.
Baffled and bruised, he began to fear something was terribly wrong.
Then came Louise—a poised young woman asking about a cake. William tried to warn her but again shouted, “Come up to my bedroom!” in horror.
But Louise was no ordinary woman—she was a Witch. Instantly sensing something magical and malevolent, she smiled calmly and said, “Of course, lead the way.”
She had a plan.
The Confrontation with Pungust
Upstairs, Louise whispered, “Do you remember anything?”
William recited the goblin’s sinister poem.
“A lass for a cake?” she said, eyes narrowing. “And you agreed to this?”
“No! It was a dream! I never would!”
Louise nodded and motioned for silence as she pushed open the door.
Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind them. A greasy rope dropped from above, and Pungust slithered down grinning wickedly.
“At last! I have you!”
Louise, unfazed, interrupted. “Did you curse this man?”
“Indeed!” beamed Pungust.
“And can the curse be broken if we guess your name?”
Pungust grinned. “Three guesses! If wrong, the baker stays cursed, you come with me to Fairyland, and YOU must make three wishes—of MY choosing!”
“Very well,” said Louise.
“Rumpelstiltskin?” she guessed.
“No! That’s my middle name!”
“Brian?”
“No!”
“Mr. Tickles?”
Pungust roared in laughter. “All wrong! Now—”
But Louise calmly turned to William. “What did he say his name was again?”
“Pungust.”
The goblin froze. “Wait—he was cursed, not you—”
“Exactly,” said Louise, “and he guessed your name.”
With a shriek of defeat, Pungust thrashed around the rafters, furious. But magic is binding, and William now had three wishes.
The Baker’s Wishes
William thought carefully.
“I want the wedding cake as requested—with geese, unicorns, and yes, something to proudly reflect their business: red underpants.”
With a cackle, Pungust conjured a fifteen-tier goose-shaped cake wearing cherry-flavored red underwear.
“I wish for this goblin to leave and never return—after granting my third wish.”
Pungust sneered, “Fine!”
“I wish to marry a woman who loves the smell of fresh bread, doesn’t mind early mornings, and can help with kneading.”
Pungust snapped his fingers—placing a golden ring on Louise’s hand—then vanished in a puff of bitterness.
Happily Ever After
“I’m sorry,” William mumbled. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to propose.”
But Louise smiled. “I love the smell of bread. And early mornings. And I can knead with magic.”
And so Louise the Witch became Louise Baker. The enchanted goose-cake was served at their wedding, underpants and all. It was a sensation—especially the cherry flavor.
Even Louise’s parents approved.
The horse-faced prince found a duchess with a jaw to match, and they were happy too.
As for Pungust? Some goblins are destined never to be happy.
Moral of the Story:
True magic isn’t just in spells or goblins, but in kindness, cleverness, and knowing your own heart. And sometimes, the best fairy tale endings come with cherry-flavored underpants.
