The nice lady that refills the vending machines just popped into my office.
“Would you like a package of donuts? They’re going to be past their sell-by date next time I’m out, so I’m changing them out now, and no one else wants them.”
I scowled at those donuts for the better part of an hour, despising their presence and craving nothing more than to glory therein. Then I went outside and, keeping an utter stillness in my head, opened the package and dumped the sugary morsels right into the trash can.
If y’all will excuse me, I’ve a need to go kick puppies.
All through this nasty episode, I kept thinking of Michael Girabaldi from B-5. I can’t say why; I’ve got lots more hair than he does.
Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry