This morning, I had doughnuts at school. They were absolutely delicious, and when I was hearing about such sweet, sweet doughnut talk, it reminds of me when I was little boy in the old country. Where I come from, doughnuts are as rare as pearls, and nearly twice as valuable. In my country, it is said, “If thou shall chance across a sweet O, keep it near thine heart, as myriads of thieves will try your confectioned ring to take.” I have never really comprehended the true meaning of this adage, but I have tried to respect it as best as I can. But one time, when I was at the tender young age of eleventeen, I had a doughnut experience I will never forget. It was so terrible, and so horrifying that it brings pain to even consider thinking about it. What actually happened, you ask? Let’s just say that I ended up holding the doughnut, or perhaps I let the doughnut out of the bag, or maybe I spilled the doughnuts. But to be utterly honest, I don’t really remember.
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