Zach Randolph approached the Krispy Kreme store quietly. It was two in the morning, and the store was dark, empty of its usual lines of donut-seeking customers. Now he would be the only one in line.
Thankful for the store’s location in the middle of a sprawling concrete expanse of shopping centers and big-box stores, he took the heavy cinder block in one hand and lobbed it through the front window. It made a terrific crashing sound, but didn’t set off any alarms. Zach carefully made his way through the broken glass, struggling mightily to contain his animalistic impulses.
There were no donuts up front, but Zach had expected that. Krispy Kreme donuts were made fresh all day, every day. That’s what made them so delicious, so irresistible. So he awkwardly scrambled over the front counter and into the back of the store where the baking equipment was located. Weeks of watching Krispy Kreme training videos on YouTube had prepared him for this moment.
He retrieved a large container of dough from the industrial-size refrigerator and began forming it into rings. Once he had enough rings laid out on the conveyor belt mechanism, he hit the single switch that brought the machine to life. The donuts were on their way to completion. Zach continued to make more rings of dough, trying to keep up with the pace of the belt. He didn’t know how many he would want to eat now and how many he would want to take home with him, but he figured he would just continue making more donuts until the first ones popped out, hot and ready, at the other end of the line.
So Zach kept his eye on the conveyor belt’s output area, his craving for fresh donuts growing more urgent by the second. His desire for a Krispy Kreme donut almost bordered on arousal. When the first one emerged from the tunnel, shining with fresh glaze, he sprinted over to it, picked it up, and devoured it in one large bite.
The sensation of fluffy, fatty sweetness entering his mouth, and then, his tummy, triggered something primal within Zach. He was no longer human. He was a donut-consuming beast. Donuts were pouring off the conveyor belt now. Somehow, his clothes had been removed, and he rolled around ecstatically in the pile of donuts that was on the floor, sometimes consuming them, sometimes just savoring the feeling of the slick glaze sliding across his most sensitive places.
“I love you Krispy Kreme,” he moaned, taking three donuts at once and stuffing them roughly into his mouth. The sugar, the fat, the texture, it was all overwhelming him.
Zach woke up and noticed that he was in the back of an unfamiliar car. The first rays of the sunrise were just peeking over the horizon. When he looked down and saw that his hands were in handcuffs, the memory of what he had just done came flooding back. At some point, he had blacked out from the pleasure of the donuts.
“Listen, man, I’m sorry,” Zach said drowsily to the cop who was driving the police car. “I didn’t mean to.” He thought about the donuts that he hadn’t been able to eat, his contrite sadness became anger. “It wasn’t me, man. It wasn’t me. You got the wrong guy. This is a violation of my rights.”
“Tell that to the judge, tubby,” the cop replied. “I’ll warn you, though, they don’t give you Krispy Kremes in jail.”
The magnitude of what he had just done hit Zach at that moment, and he began to blubber pathetically. “I just wanted some fresh donuts. That’s all I wanted. I’m not a bad person,” he cried. He saw that his fingers still had crumbs on them, and he licked them off until they were clean, unsure when he would next taste that delicious taste again.