Dateline: 1995 Severna Park, Maryland. A bizarre shooting occurred at the Dunkin Donuts on Ritchie Highway at 3:00 PM yesterday. An argument broke out over a pen, and ended in severe injury to the pen’s owner. The shooter asked to borrow the victim’s pen, then decided that he wanted to keep it. When the victim protested, the shooter, well … shot him. Preliminary reports indicate that it was a Bic.
I tried to look up this little piece of Americana online so I could get the facts straight, rather than rely solely on my “Mission Impossible” recall. (This memory will self-destruct in five seconds.) What I learned was that to get the world’s best coffee, you may be stepping into a hail of gunfire.
Since that fateful shooting many years ago, I walk into the Dunkin Donuts wearing my best Clint Eastwood squinty eyes and lip curl, daring anybody to ask to borrow my pen. Are you feeling lucky, punk? I’m packing enough cream filled donuts to give you an instant coronary!
Of course, I tell my friends I’m just going for the coffee, but in reality I’ve become an adrenaline junky. I look each person in the eye, especially anyone who asks for an egg-white sandwich in a donut shop. These people are obviously either hardened criminals or escapees from a mental ward.
In a nation where obesity runs rampant, what are we teaching our children? Do they know how dangerous it is each time they ask for frosting with sprinkles? I watch whole families march into the donut shops, unaware of the imminent peril. I wonder if your buddies at the office realize how close you came to death so they could have two dozen glazed donuts for the budget meeting.
Sure, I tell people I’m going for the coffee, but if a toasted coconut donut happens to end up in my hand, I just tell myself that life is short. If I’m going to put myself in harm’s way for a medium, cream-only cup of java, I may as well go for the gusto. I’m still not tempting fate by going for the dozen cream filled. Those things will kill you!