Eat Me, I’m Irish

It was St. Patrick’s Day.  Daniel and I were both sporting green shirts to celebrate my great-to-the-somethingth grandmother Susie Duke from the old country.  We stopped at the gas station so I could get my standard three pint refill of Diet Pepsi.  The fountain dispenser is right next to the donut rack.  The gas station used to carry Dunkin’ Donuts, but now they have some local baker bring them in.  I see his truck every so often in the middle of the night.  Normally, the donuts look pretty good (too good, in my opinion).  They tend to be bigger, fluffier and more creative than the Dunkin’ Donuts ever were.  However, that’s not always a good thing.

It was after dinner and normally the donut selection is pretty thin by then.  However, the Mobil patrons had decided to quaff green beer, Irish Coffee, or suck down toothpaste flavored milkshakes in lieu of a holiday themed donut.  The baker had decided to “go green” for St. Patrick’s Day.  The chocolate éclairs that normally overflow with creamy white frosting were oozing this greenish ectoplasm.  The cinnamon donuts had been liberally sprinkled with a mixture of green colored sugar, making them appear slightly radioactive.  And he had added green food coloring to the dough before frying up the glazed donuts.  I made that mistake last year when Daniel and I baked a dragon cake for Cub Scouts. What starts as green doesn’t necessarily stay green when cooked.  The dragon cake had turned a rather unappetizing ear wax color.  The donuts were even worse.

“They look like fake vomit,” said the gas station lady.  I felt kind of bad, looked the donuts over and finally found one that looked okay.  It was a regular chocolate cake donut that had been liberally covered in candy sprinkles colored yellow and green.  I asked Daniel if he would like to have it for dessert.

“No way!” said Daniel.  “Those are Packer colors!”  So much for that.  I shrugged at the gas station lady.  She shrugged back and started tossing them out in the trash.


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