The Bagel Guillotine

I studied Anita’s ring finger, wrapped in a blood-soaked brown paper towel. Then I glanced at her face, twisted into a grimace.

“Do you want to go to urgent care?” I asked.

“No thanks. It’ll coagulate and stop bleeding.”

As she spoke, I felt her pain—because I, too, am a survivor. Once, I was the victim of a sharp butcher’s knife and a treacherously slippery bagel. I still remember the deep gash in my thumb that required three stitches. To prove it, I bear the scar to this day. I also remember the excruciating pain—and the humiliation of having to confess to my friends, “I lost a battle in the bagel-slicing wars.”

I cursed my stupidity and, in a moment of delirium, wondered, Was my circumcision this painful? I sincerely hoped not.

Yes, humanity’s age-old war with bagels has claimed millions of victims. This conflict has spilled more Jewish blood than all the nose-punching Irish bullies roaming the streets of Boston and New York combined.

My mind jumped to the day I bought my first Bagel Guillotine.

“I have finally won the war!” I proclaimed. “No more bloody fingers!”

I pushed down the handle and watched the bagel split cleanly into two perfect halves. In that moment, I marveled at mankind’s ingenuity in its eternal struggle against self-destruction—particularly when it comes to inventing safety-conscious kitchen tools.

“Who was the genius behind this marvelous contraption?” I wondered.

With the help of AI, I learned that in 1994, Rick Ricard received a patent for this life-saving machine. He was inspired by the alarming prevalence of Bagel-Related Injuries (BRIs), which routinely send unsuspecting breakfast lovers to the emergency room. Today, the device sells roughly 80,000 units a year—a quiet testament to both human cleverness and our ongoing inability to safely slice bread.

Eighty thousand units sold each year. A triumph of design. A monument to survival.

And yet, standing there with Anita bleeding beside me, I understood the truth at last:

The bagels are still winning.