Let me explain before you crucify me, please. It was only technically eating out of the trash, and while I know that "technically" can't get you out of everything, like shooting somebody, I believe (and my lawyer Brad Chase agrees with me on this one) that it can get me out of this.
It was around Christmas--it was over winter break, I remember now--of last year. I know this because (this sounds like I'm explaining my answer to an open-ended question in school, God) my uncle brought over a box of Dunkin' Donuts for dessert for our Christmas Eve dinner, and we had a couple left over.
We don't get actual Dunkin' Donuts doughtnuts very often in our house--probably once every few months, maybe less. So no way in heck was I about to let any of them go to waste.
It was a few days later, and I went out into the living room to chill with my mom for a while. Well, I was writing a story on the couch, but still. We were in the same room, and I was watching the same thing she was watching. So I count that as Chilling.
ANYWAY. It's funny, but I remember more about stuff I was doing if there's food or eating involved. And I know there's no food involved in this story yet, but in about two sentences there will be, so keep your pants on, freak.
No, really. Keep your pants on. Nobody wants to see that.
I got hungry as I watched TV (see? Count 'em. Two sentences), and so I asked Mom if we had any of the doughnuts left, because there had been two left, and they were the holiday kind, with the red frosting and red-and-green sprinkles, and I just don't get to eat those that often (actually, I don't think I had ever eaten them before that Christmas).
I LIKE RED FROSTING ON MY PASTRY, OKAY? LEAVE ME ALONE!
Then Mom informed me that she had thrown them out because they had gotten hard and stale.
Nooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I asked her when she had done this. She told me like an hour ago.
So I jumped up and went into our kitchen (and because I know you're waiting to learn what we were watching when I ate out of the trash, it's coming. Hold on) and saw the closed box resting on the top of the trash completely untouched by anything spoiled or old or disgusting.
So, let's review the key points here (because Brad told me to): The box was shut and on top of the trash, and not soiled or grossed-up in any way.
All right, so that was fine. I pulled the box out and checked it. Fine. I pulled the doughnut I wanted (one of the last two, twins, like Luke and Leia) out of the box and studied it. It looked fine. I nibbled experimentally on the side. Fine. Sure, it was a little hard, but my teeth didn't break--I could tear pieces off, and everything. It kind of had the texture of a dinner roll, which most people eat with no problem (no offense if you can't). It just has frosting on it.
Mom looks up from the movie about the Partridge family that we've been watching for the past half hour to ask what I'm doing. I say I pulled the doughnut of the box in the trash and am considering eating it. I ask her if I can. There's nothing wrong with the doughnut.
She gets up and comes over, leaving David Cassidy (or, at least, the kid playing him, because it's a movie about the TV show) behind. She looks confused, probably because her daughter wants to eat a doughnut she threw out. She says "Fine, if you want to."
So I grab a paper plate and the doughnut and go back into the living room, and munch happily on my doughnut as I watch the kid playing Danny get the crap beat out of him by his dad.
My brother wanted to eat the other one, by the way, but that one was rock hard, and Mom threw it away while I watched and, yes, died a little on the inside. Shut up, all right? I really, really, like the red frosted doughnuts. AND I DON'T GET THEM THAT OFTEN!
So I got my doughnut. But does the fact that I got it out of the trash make me a "bum"? I mean, it wasn't really bad. And it wasn't bitten, and there was nothing wrong with the box....If there had been, I wouldn't have eaten it, no matter what. So, verdict?
Not guilty by temporary insanity.
Thank you, Brad.
Not the doughnut, but close enough
Where it came from
And a partridge in a pear tree.
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