“A Baktion was my first infection.”
A Baktion is many things, perhaps it is all things, however scholars generally agree its not that thing over there. That is not a Baktion.
Scholars of Fiqh (Mooselama-icky Jurispuddingants) agree that the Baktion concept was formed when the Baker from down the lane was involved in a horrible car crash with your mom, and possibly a small nation, and a moose. This moose would later on move to become lord and lady Mountbatten, but that is another story entirely.
Once the Baktion was born it agreed that it should reveal itself to man, woman, nor tschüs. Thus it did embark on a journey to forever feed the world's populations with its bak'd goods. Oft it be that the Baktion happend to be involved in incident of testicular manslaughter.
The Question, That doth wringe the nubs of glen, Bestokes the Baktion, With childr made from the loins hen.
A poem from the early modern post If It's Not Baroque Don't Fix It time period, detailing the horrific daily tribulations of Englandican children, as they fear the time when the Baktion high on the drugs of yore, comes down on them and forcibly inserts them into the bodies of hens.
Since that time, the Baktion has kept itself relatively hidden well, unless it comes out to see the moon, which resembles a spoon, which of course it realizes makes it quite a loon, but then again he did see it on a cartoon. The Baktion is also worshiped by several peas, a pod, and a homosexual somatic cell in vino veritus a phagocyte, (pronounce Faggot-a'ight).