Midnight Doughnut Run

Illustration by Bob AulThe best doughnut shop opens at midnight and has just four tables—three of which are always taken by the locals; it's a cheap way to sleep under shelter. While I'm sitting at the fourth table with my doughnut and OC Weekly, a young woman comes into the store all pissed-off and hungry. All 87 pounds of her are barking orders at the cashier. As she looks around for preferred seating, I think, what the hell, and offer her a seat. I ask, "How are you?"

"Look," she says, "I don't mean to be rude, but leave me alone."

"Whatever."

Minutes later, she accidentally taps the old lady sleeping behind her. The old lady screams, "PLEASE DON'T HIT ME!"

"SHUT UP, LADY!"

"PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!"

"I BARELY TOUCHED YOU!"

She turns to me. "What did you see?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, how convenient!"

I give in and tell her what I saw, but it isn't good enough for her. She grunts and looks the other way.

I finish my doughnut, get up and walk away after a few more minutes of silence. The grand revelation is always the same: no act of kindness ever goes unpunished.