Picture the following scene: a herd of donuts, about a dozen or so, is rolling across the pristine prairie. It is a mixed group, as they usually are. There are powdered, glazed, and the enigmatic holeless jellies. A smaller herd of their round young are rolling up behind them. It's a peaceful, tranquil setting suitable for framing above the mantle of some pastel-obsessed old people.
The sedentary oasis is shattered by a rampaging group of office workers. The donuts soft sugary skin is no defense against the blunt teeth and week jaws of their predators. In a matter of moments, the entire herd is gone, young and adults alike. It's a merciless scene played out on a daily basis across the world. The predators may be cops, construction workers, or lawyers, but the helpless victims are always the helpless donuts. If not them, then they're slightly tougher cousin, the bagel. The sight of the massacre got me thinking again. It's a good thing, I thought, that donuts don't have teeth. Imagine the carnage that would ensue if you were sitting down to enjoy a nice cinnamon donut when it spun around in your hand, its razor-sharp fangs hungering for human flesh? What about the jelly donut that you realize at the last moment is not filled with jelly, but with the entrails of your beloved pet? What about the éclair that lies in wait in your underwear drawer for you to feel the need to gird your loins? It used to be that way.
It is well known today that the wild donut is pretty much extinct. Sure there are some crackpots who claim that primordial pastries still roam the remote hills of the American West and the Himalayas, but I don't buy that crap. The last wild donut died in a Police Precinct in Sebewaing, Michigan at about 70 B.J.E. Since then, it's been all domestic stock raised mostly in the Midwest. Wild donuts were not particularly dangerous to people, but when they traveled across the continent in large herds they could cause people to trip or to become fatally obese.
They were nothing compared to the prehistoric donuts of the Ice Age, though. The saber-toothed donut, for example, was one of the most fearsome baked goods to have ever walked the Earth. Many a caveman surely fell to the ravenous, 8-foot in diameter beast. Almost as impressive were the great Wooly Donuts. They strode across the prehistoric tundra with holes almost large enough to drive a car through. Although archeologists debate whether or not primitive peoples could have successfully hunted such a beast, it would surely represent a feast that could feed them for days, if not weeks.
Most of these gigantic foods went extinct thousands of years ago, leaving only the modern donut. Scientists aren't sure when they were first domesticated, but by the 1800's they were well-established in America and Europe. Although the domestic variety became plentiful and exploded into dozens of different breeds, the wild donut was still hunted and eaten as a delicacy, often eaten with a side of truffles and do-do eggs. Today, no one will ever know what a wild donut tasted like, but that's OK. They weren't even glazed for Chrissakes.
So the next time you eat a donut, try to remember that you're only doing to them what they would do to you if they got the chance. Don't let those PETA freaks and their "Save the Donuts" campaign sway you from your God-given right to consume anything you damn well choose. Also keep in mind that you too can become completely delusional without the need for LSD. It just takes practice.
You know what else would suck? If you got shipwrecked alone on a remote Pacific Island and the only things you had to eat were LEMONS! And maybe bugs. I ate a lemon sliver today for the pure masochistic joy of it, and let me just say that I would not enjoy being marooned on a lemon grove. By they time they found me, my mouth would be puckered tighter than a 12 year-old virgin's honey pot.
