I Don’t Want Six Doughnuts!

As most of y’all know, I get up well before the crack of dawn—usually somewhere between four and five-thirty. This morning I rolled out of the sack at four-forty, feeling good and ready to roll.

We were out of English muffins—my usual morning fare—so a little after five, I poured myself a cup of coffee—in one of those adult sippy-cups—and jumped in the old blue pickup, the nearest donut shop my destination.

The closest donut shop to where we live is about two miles away, and is owned and operated by a Vietnamese couple; the lady is always the one to wait on me. She came from the back—where they make the donuts—and as I stared forlornly at the empty case where the donuts usually are, she asked if she could help me.

“Where’s the doughnuts?”

“Figh minute,” she said. “You wait figh minute. What kine you wann?”

“Four chocolate-iced and one apple fritter,” I said.

“No apple fritter,” she answered.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be back in five minutes.” She said okay and hustled back to the kitchen.

I hopped back into old blue and headed for the next closest donut shop—Shipley’s—which was another mile or so toward town. I thought I knew right where Shipley’s was, but I missed the turn and had to double back. There was a good reason I’d missed it, too—the lights weren’t on. I was aghast that a national donut chain was not open at five-thirty in the morning!

I had to have an apple fritter! It was for Sherry, and they’re her favorite! I thought for a minute, and decided Kroger’s would be the place to get one! Kroger’s is right across the street from the first donut shop I’d gone to this morning—I think it’s called Top Donuts.

Kroger’s did indeed have some apple fritters, so with that part of the deal closed, I eased back over to Top Donuts. I was happy to see a tray of donuts in the glass case, and among the two dozen on the tray were my favorite; chocolate-iced. The lady came hustling from the back again and once again, asked if she could help me. Here’s where our familiar ritual begins.

“Four chocolate-iced,” I said.

“You wann six?” she says.

“No, I just want four.” Let me explain something before I go on. I shouldn’t be eating even four—probably none—and chocolate-iced donuts do not do well if they sit for a day, so they are never good the next morning. Okay?

“You get six for only thirty-figh cent more,” she says. Then she goes through the math for me, explaining that a half dozen is $2.75, and four at sixty cents each is $2.40. The first couple of times I went in the shop, I let her talk me into it. The first time I ate all six that morning, and was miserable for half the day; the second time I ate three, thinking I’d give it another shot—I’ve tried it before—and see if they were edible the next morning. They weren’t.

So today, I was determined to stick to my guns. “I smiled and said, “No thanks. I just want four.” I thought she was going to come across the glass case and rip my heart out—the lady looked downright mad!

She rattled the math at me again, and I was shaking my head side-to-side the whole time. I was not going to be intimidated by the donut lady!

Still glaring at me, she shoved the four donuts into a sack and walked briskly to the cash register where she tossed the sack onto the counter in front of me. She banged the cash register furiously then snapped, “See! You get bad deal!”

I smiled and handed her a twenty. She snatched it from my hand, fumbled my change from the till, held it out to me, and as I took it from her hand, said, “You have nice day! Okay?” The manner in which she spat that last word left me with the distinct feeling she was not sincere.

I think from now on, I’m just gonna order six chocolate-iced donuts when I go there. Maybe you can freeze them. I haven’t tried that yet.



  1. Sherry Mashburn said

    Maybe you should just get 3.

  2. gary williams said

    Did you have donuts in the sugar shack also?

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