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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.”