‘A light rain and a donut,’ engraved across Phillip’s grave. He preferred ‘donut’ to ‘doughnut.’ Some thought it was because he was too cheap to put three extra letters on his headstone. Those who knew Phillip knew it was because ‘donut’ was visually more appealing than ‘doughnut.’ Out of all the people who knew Phillip, few got to join him on what he considered his serenity; a light rain and a donut.
Oh, it was a beautiful rain that morning. They were on the verge of spring, so a good rain to stave off white stains uplifted all. Phillip pulled his large Chrysler 5th Avenue right up to the door, snatching his usual parking spot and a half. He stepped out of his car with no umbrella and no hood, because he liked the way cold rain trickled through his thinning hair. He happily strolled the five feet to the bakery door. One of his favorite parts of visiting the bakery is the rush of baked love that floods your nostrils when the door opens. To his right, a fridge filled with milk and sodas, and to his left were the goods. Now, out of the rain, he ran his fingers through his fading follicles. It was 32 degrees, warm enough for rain, and cold enough to freeze.
He had choices. Well, he had many choices, but he knew which goods he preferred. All donuts are good donuts, but Phillip loved honeymooners the most. That day they had all been eaten. This felt strange to Phillip, honeymooners were a popular pick on Thursdays, not Mondays. “Oh well,” he thought, shook off his discomfort, and politely asked for a twist.
“It’s fifty cents with the Phillip discount!”
Blushing, as he did every time, he gave the nice lady two-fifty. Usually he would stay and chew the fat with her, but he could hear the light taps on the window; fingers from the clouds dancing on glass seducing Phillip.
A lustful smile filled Phillips face when he got his hands on the white paper bag. “It’s almost too tempting to wait until I get to my car! I’d hate to make a messy fool of myself though.” She giggled politely, and wished him a pleasant day.
As he got one foot out the door he turned and asked, “Wendy, I know you have a job to do, but would you care to join me? You know I love the light rain and how it comforts me the same way your donuts do.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Phillip. No pun intended, but can I get a rain check? Maybe Thursday? It’s supposed to rain, and I’ll make extra honeymooners that day,” she replied.
Without embarrassment, he accepted the rain check and thanked her kindly. On the five foot jaunt back to the car he could feel it in his stomach. The way the donut would glaze his tongue as the wind shield wipers waved at him. This made him put a bit of pep in his step. Phillip swung open the car door, hopped in, and took off.
On the edge of town he took his first bite, he melted. As if he were a wicked witch driving a convertible, he sunk in his seat. With every bite he was reminded why this bread burned holes in his pockets. Soon the tranquility of his spotted windshield, where the drops had splashed, consumed him. He took another bite. A good giant bite! One that overflowed his mouth so he had to chew with his mouth open.
“Thank god Wendy can’t see this,” he tried to say, while spitting little chunks of donut onto his steering wheel.
Reaching for his napkins he kept in his glove box, he jerked the wheel. His car violently fish-tailed making a perfect roadblock for the oncoming semi-truck. The roads slicker than a bowling alley, and his tires balder than he. Phillip didn’t stand a chance. The last thing Phillip ever heard was shattering glass. His last thought: a rain check left uncashed.