Loopy’s Adventures at Ye Old Donut Shoppe: Part I

“Must ‘ave been from that spelunking trip where i got trapped in a cave for three weeks,” says flabbergasted 47 year old Penitent High music teacher.

These were the headlines in my mind when I stepped up onto the curb at approximately 9 o’clock on a Thursday night, crossing over Juniper Ct and moving south on Lincoln St, en route to rendezvous with the sweet crustated circular pieces of sweetness that I like to call “my fix.”
“Ma! I’m going to go get my fix!” I call out to the motionless sack swathed in sweat clothes seated before the TV as I slip into my windbreaker.
I like custard and I like jellies and I like them old-fashioned and I like them powdery and twined and plain and sprinkled.
I depressed my left nostril and blew snot gustily out of my face as I entered Jimmy’s Pizzeria on a little detour. I like to let my desire peak before I get my fix. So I grunted at Herbert as I walked by the counter, and he rustled his paper at me, and I stuck my quarter into the slot of the Ninja Star 3 coin-op. It’s the only one left in town, and so far no one has topped my high score of 14,773,815, set on the eve of February 25, 1991. I remember that date very well. I had just received a haircut, and I had gel stiffened into my hair and it seemed to encapsulate my skull like a helmet, such that I felt very focused, kind of buckled in. I only used 2 quarters. Herb gave me a free slice of mushroom pizza. I had to pee so bad afterward that I went on the sidewalk in front of Jimmy’s, and the Walker kids saw me on their way back from a junior high school dance. They told their parents that they “saw my big wee-wee” and their dad got really mad and told the police and everyone thought I was a pedophile flasher for a while, and I kept getting frisked every time I went out of my house. The whole hoopla kind of died down when one of the Walker kids was found sniffing glue behind the kickball courts. I made pretty good friends with the police in the meanwhile, and they were impressed with my high score.
That was actually about the time that my fix got started. After hanging out with Officer Dibble and his gang for long enough, I began to get cravings for donuts, because he’d offer me one from the pink box he always has next to him in his front seat. He still frisks me down sometimes, kind of to keep me in line and ensure that our relationship appears professional.
I jiggled the joystick around for a while and got to the 4th level, but I missed a beat on the fat guy with a bo stick, and got killed by a stray rolling oil barrel. I may never top my own score, I guess I had reached a peak, kind of like how an athlete can only be so good for so long before they get too old. Maybe it’s because I no longer have the same ambition, the same drive I once did, now that I’ve got my fix.
My fix. I wiped the drool from the corners of my mouth and hitched up my pants. Time to pay Josephine a visit.
“Here I come,” I murmured huskily to myself, cocking a finger pistol at Herb as I passed. He pretended to collapse backwards, and knocked over a stack of pizza boxes. I decided that it was worthwhile to stand and laugh. But soon I tired of belittling the pathetic worm, and continued onward to my mission.
And then I suddenly knew that tonight was a special night, that the planets were aligned for me. Because right as I plunged out into the cold, cruel night, Officer Dibble was cruising by, grinning crookedly all over his ruddy face under his grey spiked hair.
“Hop on in, boy!” he beckoned to me.

Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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