Shyzer.com

Somebody do me a favor. Call the Krispy Kreme that sits right next to my apartments and tell them never to allow me in there again. I should have never found out that went the “Hot Donuts Now!” sign lights up that they will give you a free donut just for walking in. I should have never discovered at a young age the joys of a chocolate creme filled donut that cost a mere .90 cents. And I most certainly shouldn’t have accepted the many coupons from Jess that entitled me to “One Free Donut” and “One Free Dozen Donuts.” My carpet it littered with colored sprinkles and bits of glaze, my stomach has joined in alliance with my eyes, neck, and back to try and make my life a living hell, I’m shitting solid blocks of pure sugar, and no matter how many times I scrub my hands with soap and hot water, I am still plagued with a sweet, sticky, glazed coating which has enveloped my fingers.

I now know what it’s like to be addicted to crack. I get the shakes if I haven’t had my hourly dose of donut and I recently found myself going over some complex math which involved how long I could supply myself with Objects A (donuts) if I pawned Objects B (TV, Computer, Truck, Body, and Murder for Hire). I’ve run out of coupons though and we all know that when I have to start paying for something, I suddenly remember that I have no money. For the first time, I am thankful for having a low bank account, since I am able to make the right choice when it comes down to donuts or rent.

Homer: Donut?
Lisa: No, thanks. Don’t you have any fruit?
Homer: [offers some of the donut he's eating] This has purple stuff inside. Purple’s a fruit.