Powdered Sugar Donuts

Powdered Sugar Donuts

"I promise no new taxes and we'll have a balanced budget!" His words, sailing out over the crowd, catapulted to the ground in lumps of dead black rhetoric before the sound even dissipated in the air. Not well received. The chunky politician in a blue suit felt his face flush as red as his tie. The blush rushed all the way to his balding head, up, up, up like a flooding river running in the wrong direction. A man can never feel more vulnerable than when his bald head is unprotected and exposed.

You stinkin' Republican! You just want to get richer!

You're saying you won't tax us, but you will!

You bastards are all alike!

Bill Brandy leaned down to talk to his second-in-command. That fine fellow sat in the first row, hunched down in his seat under the barrage of angry voices. Bill mouthed the words at him.

"Who the hell let these people in here? I thought you screened the audience!"

Jim Jenson got up and went to his boss. "We did. Looks like the Demmies pulled a fast one on us!"

"Filthy Bastards!" Bill loosened his tie and glared out at the mob. "What'll I do?"

"You can't cut and run. It'll look bad."

Brandy wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with a clean white handkerchief. He took a deep breath. "Okay, but my blood sugar is low. You gotta go get me some donuts. I need donuts, powdered ones. I need them now or I can't go on."

Jim Jenson stared back, his jaw dropped. Donuts! At a time like this he wants donuts!

He headed for the lobby. If you saw the middle-aged clerk, you wouldn't think he would be campaign manager for a big time politician. He stood only 5'7" tall, thin light brown hair, a face overrun by huge brown shell glasses, and a sheepish demeanor with a nervous little mouth and tiny evasive blue eyes. But when it came to politics, he grew horns. He was a Party animal to be reckoned with.

Finally, he spied a coffee shop. A colorful array of donuts were stacked on the counter under a glass dome. As he rushed in, the scent of sugar lined his nostrils with its sickening stench. Donuts! Yuck! Even as a child he hated their heavy grease and tons of lightweight sugar powder and gooey icing. He'd rather have a nice thick satisfying Snickers any day. Donuts were for wimps.

"Can I help you?" The tiny clerk tapped her finger on the counter as she waited. The noise, along with her face with its crooked lines and her big hair fighting to free itself from a hair net, spun off an overall feeling of a war in progress.

"I need two powdered sugar donuts."

"We're out of powdered sugar. How about glazed?"

BAM! The plan had slammed into a brick wall.

"I don't know! Do you have anything like powdered sugar?"

"Eh?"

"You know, something that looks or tastes like it?"

"What? Donuts are donuts. They're all good!"

"No. I want powdered sugar. If you don't have powdered sugar, perhaps I should look elsewhere." That should do it. Whenever you threaten to shop elsewhere, the stubborn clerk always finds what you want underneath. They always have one of the good stuff stashed underneath that they're holding for someone else.

"I told you! I don't have any!"

"Yes, you do. Now pony up with the donuts, sister!"

"Are you crazy? ...SECURITY!"

For such a tiny woman, she had a loud voice. Short people are like that, voices shrieky like little Chihuahua dogs. Her cry thrashed out into the lobby like a banshee on the run. Security guards ran in from all directions. In a matter of minutes, they had Jim Jenson cuffed and transported to the office for questioning.

Back at the lecture hall, Bill Brandy sat on the edge of the stage, bawling like a baby. "Where are my donuts? Powdered sugar ones? W-a-a-a-a-ah!" He didn't win the election.

Copyright 2007 JO Janoski

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