Faster Than a Speeding Doughnut
“Seven glazed doughnuts, please.”
The dimly lit glass gets colder as those words echo ominously throughout the store. The plastic-gloved hand swoops, taking one doughnut at a time, carefully placing a glazed into a white paper sack for the police man. The shadow of the massive hand looms closer like a vulture’s circling path each time a doughnut is taken. The comfort of a companion has been taken. I suffer with the dueling sentiments of rejection and relief.
“That’s five, six...”
The glass grows colder as I try to shrink into nothingness. I block out all senses, too afraid to remain conscious. When reality returns, I’m on top of the counter. In a bag. With a mustache peering down at me, hungrily.
“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
As the officer’s behemoth hairy hand reaches for the bag, the chime of the door’s bell alerts a new patron’s entrance. The officer turns to wave, knocking over the bag in his own clumsiness. The contents of the bag is scattered. I fall onto the floor...landing painfully upright. The room spins. When everything decides to become steady, I realize what’s happening. This is my lucky break. I begin my escape.
The gentle breath of fresh air coming in through the open door is more inviting than ever before. I roll toward the door. I keep on rolling, in greater haste than I’ve ever felt the need. The heavy footsteps of my pursuer follow closely behind. The checkered tile turns into a blur as I quicken my pace. I am reaching about 600 rpms when the metal bump of the door jamb hurls me into the sky. FREEDOM!
The landing was softer than I expected. Until the giant shoe of my assailant landed right behind me. The thundering footsteps keep a steady pace as I attempt to flee. This one must be a smoker, because he’s already panting, harder than a 600-pound woman climbing stairs. I get to a hill, and hurl myself down towards my destination: the river. The two participants in this involuntary race are neck-and-neck.
I am so focused on what’s behind me that I fail to see the wall just ahead, and skid into it...slowed down substantially. Our opposite-of-friend takes advantage of the situation and catches up. In a fluid motion, the hand of the officer reaches down and grabs me right out of my path. I sit, horrified at the scene that begins to unfold. Moments away from my inescapable doom, the gruff mustache twitching in excitement, I see the jaw set wide, the teeth glistening, the tongue dripping, get a whiff of smoker’s breath, I utter one last prayer. All of a sudden, a sharp inhale and a powerful exhale. A sneeze, rendering this large man useless. Suddenly, allergies become a doughnut’s best friend. I fall to the ground, yet again, and roll off the top of the bridge into the river, floating blissfully away.
. . . . . . .
Isn't he a terrific writer? He gets it from his dad. You know, they say that our best writing is usually born out of our own experience, such is the case with this one, to be sure. Here's the rest of the story:
The day after Josh got his license, he was pulled over for going 70 in a 35. Yep, that's double the speed limit. Reckless driving. And probably suspension of newly acquired license. The officer asks for his registration and he doesn't even know where it is. He finally locates it, and the officer asks why it doesn't match the name on the insurance. "Oh", says Josh weakly, "it was registered by my uncle, Rodney Dansie."
"Rodney Dansie?" asks the cop." I have a brother-in-law named Jesse Rodney Dansie. Any relation?"
"J.R? Yeah, I know him. He's our cousin."
"Well, since you're a shirt-tail relative, I'm going to let you off the hook this time. But I am calling your parents." (Which is how we came to know this story!)
So...some danger, some speeding, headed toward doomsday, and a miraculous rescue! THAT's where Josh got the inspiration for his great doughnut story! And I think it was just frightening enough to curb his speeding habit!