Fistfuls of dough

I don’t typically have cravings. Sometimes I get a hankering for some food or drink or experience, but nothing really deep-down, nothing can’t-get-it-out-of-my-mind, nothing gotta-have-it-now. Perhaps a religion so heavy on self-denial as Catholicism can have this effect on its more earnest followers.

But this past week has been an entirely different story. I want doughnuts like I have never wanted them before. And I’m not talking like, “Oh, I could really go for a jelly-filled right now.” No, this is a James Frey, face-down-in-a-table-sized-pile-of-coke-till-my-nostrils-bleed kind of craving. I want to drive to Cub Foods and grab one of those assorted dozens and a gallon of whole milk, and I want to drive home as fast as I can, except I couldn’t wait that long, so I would sit in my car, right there in the parking lot, and I would open the box on the passenger seat, and I would uncap the milk jug on my lap. Then I would eat the pastries, all of them, one after another, washing down each ravening bite down with big thirsty chugs of the sweet, cold cow juice.

I would eat the maple fried cinnamon first, and it would be gone in a flash. I would follow that with the apple fritter, the glazed raised doughnut, and the cherry bismark. There would be a lemon-filled doughnut, and a chocolate covered one; these would be the next to enter my insatiable maw. I would chew on the sugar twist for a little while, catching my breath. Calmer now, I would savour the old fashioned doughnut, and the custard-filled bismark with chocolate frosting.

At this point I would probably feel sated, and perhaps even rather full. And the three things left in the box — the white-frosted long john, the cake doughnut with coloured sprinkles, and the second glazed raised — would not excite me that much. But I would eat them anyway, because they were there, because I could.

I would eat these last slowly, each mouthful adding to the nascent pain in my middle. But I would triumph in the end.

My craving satisfied, I would drive home, very slowly, and pass out on the living room floor. And my dreams would be very, very sweet.

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