Proof in the Pudding. Filling.
|Donut Cake. A thing of Beauty...|
Get up at the arse crack of dawn to both run and to buy donuts aplenty for a birthday cake of sorts. (Don't be all judgey, the kid likes donuts and I don't have white sugar or butter in my house.) We make a masterpiece of donuts and fritters and frosting and candles and bask in its glow... However, the birthday donut aficionado is still snoring away, so life goes on.
I walk by the Donut Masterpiece and notice a sprinkles donut is gone. I assume it is a payment for getting up at the crack of dawn and helping me create such a maaahvelous birthday breakfast. Rude, but, whatever...
I saunter into the kitchen to get more coffee and I see. This. A chocolate glazed donut with several hasty, messy bites take out of one side. A sprinkled payment donut, I can live with. But bites out of the actual masterpiece? Too. Much. I walk down the stairs and tell the monkeys to knock it off and quit eating the Masterpiece.
I get blank stares and then indignation. Denials, to the point that I ask, "If you guys aren't eating the Masterpiece, who is?!"
Behold, the proof. It's not in the pudding but it is in the chocolate icing. And possibly the boston cream filling. Mehhhh.
|Chock full of guilt. And apple fritter. And sprinkles.|