Half Donut

Maybe I'm just a nice guy. Maybe I like to make my co-workers smile. Or perhaps, I just bribe people to be my friends.

So, I brought a box of donuts to work today. Nothing fancy. Certainly not anything like Krispy Kreme. Just a box of basic donuts.

Through the course of the day, friendly folks came and went helping themselves to the powdery rings of cake. Then, over time, as I returned to the kitchen for regular coffee refills, I discovered that the donuts were being halved.

Cut in half. Half taken. Half left behind like sinners after the rapture. The sugar-coated box became a bin of unwanted donut halves.

Now, the first question is, why cut the donut in half? Trying to preserve your girlish figure by only consuming 18 grams of fat rather than 36? Does it matter THAT much?

Are you too full for that second bite of Donut? Was the first bite to filling?

Is it really just a matter of guilt? You want that donut, but some voice in your head tells you that it's wrong or bad, so you steal away with only half, assuaging your guilty conscience with your semi-self-denial? Really? I mean, it's just a donut.

Then, the second question is, if you want to take only half a donut, and the sad snacker before you wanted only the same. And, their bisected breakfast treat remains in the box, why not take it? Why cut another donut.

And especially, if several folks have done the same thing, why not take any one of the half-dozen donut halves littering the bottom of the box??

And of course, no one wants to take the last one. They just keep cutting and splitting, chopping and pinching, until all that is left is the inevitable single uneaten bite, which will certainly be found in the box by the time I get there tomorrow.

I'm going to eat it, damn it. The last bite is mine.