Oh man, I haven’t been to the donut shop in ages. It’s packed right now too – must be all the people at the office across the street. Where I’m from. And where I work.

Huh. Never put those two together.

Too bad I’m not at work today. Nope. High as a fuckin’ kite! Ready to roll into some funny ass Netflix standup comedy specials and admonishing myself for getting too stoned again. The perfect vacation.

Gotta start the day properly though. Two dozen donuts for myself sounds great. Guess I’ll get a shitload of random ass donuts.

Man, this is kinda embarrassing though, isn’t it? A little weird? Two dozen just for one guy, man, that’s pushing it. Especially as far as the sugar goes. Hell the carbs alone would weight him down for a week. That’s some goony ass gross shit right there. But they’re so good.

Fuck, I’m next. Fuck. The people behind the counter I’m going to judge the shit out of me. What if I acted like I was ordering for coworkers! Yeah. Yeah, that might work. I might not be dressed like I’m ready for work, my sweatpants don’t exactly scream professional or anything, what with the ten day old Frito’s cheese sauce stain.

Shit, I’m up. Fuck. Now this sucks, this really sucks. I gotta either bail or figure this out.

Shit. Oh! Naw, wait, I know.

I pull out my phone. I gesture wildly. I talk as loud as I can. Everyone must know that I am not the only one who will partake of this bounty. They will know that.

Oh yeah, hi, oh gimme a sec, I say as I keep talking to no one on a dead phone. Hi! Oh yeah, I’lll make sure to get those, Lisa loves those little spinny ones. Yeah, right! Oh yeah, give me six of the bavarian cream for Doug! Ok, gotcha, thanks. Oh, what’s that?

Ok. Ok. Got it. Marty wants about ten of a good mix of normal ass icing ones. Yeah, yeah, he likes the classics, what can he say.

I’m sweating. I feel as if I’m about to vomit. My anus puckers. My teeth chatter. I am ten and standing at the front of class again. I am twelve and still in the same grade because I did nothing but go and stand at the front of the class.

As I’m talking, the phone goes off. The screen lights up. It is now clear I have not been using my handset as previously established. The employee behind the counter and I exchange stares. We say nothing. We know the hard truth. I take my sugary fucking shame in my two boxes that they filled with silence and disappointment. I leave the Weird Donut Shop.

On the way out, I feel a hand at my shoulder. I turn. It’s a UN Inspector. I have violated the Warsaw-Dunkin Act of 2019. I am put in handcuffs and taken away as photographers crowd around. I’m placed in the back of a van. No one is supposed to own that amount of donuts. I should have known better.

I am placed in front of a tribunal. I am sentenced to death.

I probably could have thought this one out a little better.