As I came down my driveway this morning, I was witness to the aftermath of some sick and tormented soul perpetrating a crime in my neighborhood. There across the drive were about a half dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts scattered about with a crushed box tossed aside. I stopped, and with tears in my eyes, I picked up and threw out the victims. I mean, some harmless little doughnuts, life snuffed out before they could serve mankind in a gesture of sweet goodness. Life can be so hard some days. It wasn’t until I started driving down the block that I noticed the full horror in store for a waking neighborhood. More crushed boxes and scattered doughnuts. Down the block, around the corner, down the next street and up to the main road, probably 15 or so boxes in all.
Was it a gang fight (the Krispy Kremers, who have glazed icing and grape jelly as their gang colors) or an exploding delivery truck? A police shootout with the Krispy Kreme bandit? What devilry transpired on those quiet streets in the darkest hours of night, when respectable people were sound asleep, safe within their homes? I do not know, I’ll have to check the police blotter report in my local paper this week to mine out the details.
All I know is that I have the image of dozens of these precious doughnuts; scattered in driveways and across lawns, in the middle of streets. Some broken, some crushed, all lying lifeless and growing stale in the warm morning air.
Oh, the humanity!
