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...

Mysterious bites...

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.

Terrier Teethmarks

Chock full of guilt. And apple fritter. And sprinkles.



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