Dear Esteemed Grumpians,
It is with a heavy heart and even heavier stomach that I write to you today. If you recall my post on August 28, “Give Me Doughnuts or Give Me Death,” I decried the shameless pillaging of our weekly doughnut tray that is set out to entice fellow workers at Southern Living to arrive early and actually put in a full day’s work.
I incorrectly blamed most of the debacle on our earnest yet sinister copy editor, Libby Minor, and our innocent yet calculating assistant features editor, Allison Barnes. Libby complained bitterly that she never leaves behind a half-eaten doughnut. Allison reminded me that she never eats anything that has to be cooked. (This explains why herds of livestock graze so peacefully on her balcony.)
The Grump apologized for sullying the reputations of these two fine women and assumed that would be sufficient. But no. Revenge, as they say, is a dish best served cold – in this case, a dish filled with delicious, sugary, calorie-crammed, artery-clogging, serotonin-releasing, tummy-pleasing, esophagus-greasing, taste bud-teasing, stuff-em-in-my-face-til-I-start-wheezing doughnuts.
I secretly entered Southern Living’s Doughnut Sanctum Sanctorum, a conference room where these delectable confections miraculously appear. I expected to find just shards, crumbs, and smeared jelly on the platter, but it sat there untouched!!
Could this be? Could they all be for me? Could I have beaten Libby and Allison to El Dorado?
I reached greedily, wantonly, for that chocolate filled doughnut and shoved it lustily into my mouth, every nerve firing simultaneous sensations of unspeakable pleasure, when FLASH! A secret camera planted to ensnare me went off.
I am caught. I am ashamed. I feel so dirty and alone.
Libby and Allison say they are taking steps to have me designated as a Registered Doughnut Offender. This stigma will follow me for the rest of my life. People who see me on the street, in the pawn shop, and in the love-stuff store will point at me and whisper. They’ll all know.
Tonight I’m attending my first meeting at Doughnuts Anonymous. I’ll look at everybody sitting there and pitifully say, “Hello, I’m the Grump. And I love doughnuts.”