Jelly Donuts
by Michael A. Kechula
“Who the
hell are you?” my wife asked when she
answered my knock.
“Don’t
you recognize me?” I asked
“No. Get
outta here, or I’ll call the cops.”
“I’m
Joe, your husband. Remember that day twenty
years ago when you had a terrible yen for jelly
donuts, and I ran to the bakery during a blinding
snowstorm? I never came back, because I was
abducted when I left the bakery. I’ve spent
the past twenty years on a Martian spaceship
cleaning their horrible toilets. Let me tell
you, you never want to be anywhere near Martian
droppings.”
“You’re
a sick man,” she said.
“Look
inside this bag,” I said. “Here
are the jelly donuts I bought for you twenty
years ago. Check the sales slip inside, and you’ll
see the date imprinted on it.
“What
flavor are they?”
“Blueberry.
Your favorite. ”
“Well,
even if this ridiculous story was true, why would
I wanna eat twenty year old donuts?”
“You don’t
have to. It’s just proof that what I’m
saying is true.”
“This
stupid conversation has dragged on long enough. Go
now, or I swear I’ll call the cops.”
“Okay. I’m
going. But I want you to know this: Martians are
waiting for me in the park. They’re
playing a stupid game. Just minutes ago, we
were flying over the bakery where they abducted
me twenty years ago. They made bets among
themselves about what might happen if they put me
on the ground with this bag of donuts and had me
confront you. One bunch bet you’d take
me back. The others said no way. If you don’t
take me into your house right now, they’ll
keep me captive until I die. I don’t wanna
clean their nasty toilets for the rest of my life. Won’t
you let me come inside for just an hour? That’ll
be the signal to them that you’ve taken me
back. Then they’ll abduct somebody else
to replace me.”
“You’re
nuts,” she said, slamming the door. From
inside she hollered, “You better run fast. I’m
calling the police emergency number right now.”
Dejected, I
returned to the park where my captors were
waiting.
The Martians
who lost the bet seethed with anger. To retaliate,
they created extra large piles of putrid dung for
me to clean up.
The winners
said for being such a good sport, they’d
abduct a woman for me next time we passed Jupiter. That
way I’d have female companionship.
Munching on
one of the old jelly donuts, I asked the pilot
what women from Jupiter looked like.
“Something
along the lines of what you call giant squids…but
not as cute.”
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