Zach Randolph slumped sadly against the cinder-block wall of his cell in the Sacramento County jail. His mind was filled with regret as he closed his eyes. Why had he ever thought it was a good idea to break into a Krispy Kreme donut store? He had plenty of money with which to buy donuts legitimately, heck, he had enough money to buy his own Krispy Kreme store if he wanted…
“Whatchu in for?” asked his cellmate, a rough-looking Mexican man with a ponytail and mustache who might have been in his 40s.
“Breaking and entering,” Zach replied, not opening his eyes. “You?”
“I killed a dude,” said the man with a shrug. “But your story is probably cooler.”
“Not really,” Zach said, not wanting to talk about it. Then, all of a sudden, he found himself pouring out the whole sad tale to this man who was probably a maniac. “All I wanted was some Krispy Kremes, man, so I broke into the store this morning and I started making the donuts myself with the conveyor belt because they don’t keep the donuts overnight, and then when the donuts started coming out of the machine I took all my clothes off and ate them and did indecent things with them, and I’m really sorry, it was a terrible idea, and I’m not a bad guy or anything, really, I just wanted some donuts is all.”
“Krispy Kreme donuts are pretty good,” the man agreed. “Too bad I’m never gonna have one again.”
It suddenly occurred to Zach that if they charged him with enough crimes, they could probably jail him for life just like this murderer he was sharing a cell with. He began to cry. “I’m not a bad person, I just turn into a different guy when I see donuts, and now I’m gonna be locked up forever!”
Zach was so consumed by his self-pity that it took him a while to realize that a visitor had walked up to the bars of the cell. “George! What are you doing here?” Zach asked, his tears coming to end when he saw his teammate George Hill.
“I just posted bail, so you can get out now,” George said unenthusiastically. “The guys voted and they decided my contract was the biggest, so here I am.”
“How did you know I was in jail?” Zach asked. He hadn’t yet made his one phone call.
George rolled his eyes. “It was all over the news this morning. ‘Naked fat man helps self to Krispy Kreme donuts’ was the headline. They had your picture, and, sad to say, I would recognize your pimply disgusting butt-cheeks anywhere.”
The Mexican man made no attempt to escape when the cell door was opened just wide enough for Zach to squeeze through. “Thanks man. I thought I would be in there forever.” The two men walked out to George’s car; Zach got into the passenger seat.
After driving a few miles, Zach’s stomach rumbled loudly. “Yo, man, do you think we could stop for some grub? They didn’t give me anything in the pen.”
It took a while for George to respond, as if he was weighing his options. Eventually, he relented. “Okay, fine. What are you in the mood for?”
“Donuts?” Zach answered hopefully.
“Nope.”