Seeing a tweet about a stolen candy bar made me think about how I love those little white donuts. You know the ones; they're covered in confectioner's sugar that gets all over you when you eat them. Each one is good for about two bites. They're awesome.
That tweet also reminded me of an episode that angered me at the time but is now a fond memory. I go through spells of watching episode after episode of a TV series. Back then, I was on a kick for old Perry Mason episodes. It was midnightish and the VHS (shudder) was feeding me my second episode of the evening when it occurred to me that I had a brand new bag of little white Hostess donuts in the pantry. You know the little thrill of such a realization, right?
Being a delayed gratification kind of guy in such matters, I didn't rush to my bag o'donuts. Nope. I watched Perry and Della and Paul and thought about those donuts. Mentally savored those donuts. Anticipation. It was gonna be a good night. Yum. Then finally, when the time was PERFECT, I headed barefoot across the Berber and tiptoed across the cold tiles of the kitchen...
...opened the refrigerator. Poured me a perfect glass of frosty cold milk. Not 2%. THE GOOD STUFF. Mouth watering? Yup. Opened the pantry and grabbed my bag o'donuts. WHAT THE CRAP?!?!? That brand new bag? Guess what it had in it? ONE PITIFUL HALF-DONUT AND A BUNCH OF THOSE HARD-TO-EAT TINY CHUNKS AND CRUMBS.
Being experienced in such matters, I knew who did it: ONE OR BOTH OF THOSE KIDS OF MINE STOLE MY LITTLE WHITE DONUTS. Despite lengthy interrogation, neither would really own up to it, but I know they did it. So now that they're grown, when I visit their houses, you think I show any mercy on their pantries? NOPE. And when they gripe because I pilfer a honey bun or a Pop-Tart or a tasty treat from Little Debbie, I just say "LITTLE WHITE DONUTS!"
