The Evil Donuts

I have a new arch-enemy, the donut. I work at dining services, and I love my job. Unfortunately everyday we have a whole bunch of donuts just sitting out wickedly tempting me. These are the donuts that were a little too small or too big or have too much glaze or frosting or whatever. They are the mess-ups from the donut shop. You would think that since they are defective, I wouldn't want them, but I am a very accepting individual. I understand none of us is perfect, and so I love them despite their imperfections. Most of the time I don't understand why these donuts are even considered defective. They look fine. They taste great. The best thing of all is that they are free! I can have as many as I want. I could probably have a dozen of them everyday if I wanted to do that, but I do exercise a tiny bit of self control. I don't eat a full dozen. In fact, I don't even eat a half dozen. The poor donuts though. They've been labeled defective. They don't get to fulfill their life's mission of being eaten. I feel so guilty that I have to save just one of them everyday and eat it. I usually save a chocolate one, and make all of it's wishes come true by chomping down on it (I have a hard time knowing that if I don't eat it, then that most precious commodity, chocolate, may be thrown away. That has to be a sin). I am just mad that I am doing these poor orphan donuts a favor by eating them, and then they go and make me gain a few pounds. How is that fair? It most definitely is not, so now I'm really angry at the donuts. I'm never going to eat another one again...well, maybe just this one more.