Joe was only at Dunkin' Donuts for some coffee before his math class yesterday. Extensive caffeine intake is required for sitting through three hours of lecture delivered completely without words, at least any words recognizable to the general adult population: "l ´ m [0] p = Ï [x]."
His motives were pure. He had absolutely no intention of buying a donut
But it was get-a-free-donut-with-your-coffee day. Even then, Joe -- mindful of diets and waists and the terrors of trans fat -- politely refused the offer and ordered a lone coffee.
Then, while the woman was getting his order, he came to his senses. It's a donut! And it's free! He was soon on his way with his coffee and a Bavarian Creme in tow.
As he drove to class, he comforted himself with the altruistic thought that well, I could share it with Holly.
But donuts are funny that way. They don't like to be ignored. They don't like to be saved and shared with someone else. They want your full attention. They have a bond with you, the person that bought them, and they are not going to let you hand them off to someone else. You have a duty -- nay, a calling -- to eat them yourself.
And so the Bavarian Creme worked on him, all the way to campus. Eventually, it helped him come to the logical conclusion that well, Holly can have a donut another time.
And he and the Bavarian Creme became one.
In the end, though, perhaps struck by a conscience still guilty from the Kit Kat incident last week, he did save some of his donut for me. He left me the donut powder all over his dark shirt.
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