Today is March 32nd. “My name is not Merv Griffin, my real name is George.*” I am 276 years old today. I recently quit my job at the coal mine, and became a professional mime, working undercover for Dunkin Donuts at the CIA. I did it because on my resume I only had to change one letter. I am not an alien, I have travelled through space and time which has had the unexpected consequence of eternal youth.
My family knows nothing of any of this, so if any of you dare to tell them, I am obligated by federal law to take you to an undisclosed location with a secondary secret bunker, tie you up in weak strands of oregano fibers, suspend you over a vat of meatballs and marinara sauce, and film the ensuing hilarity for America’s Funniest Videos while enjoying crusty home-baked garlic bread with broiled-on mozzarella cheese. My strict instructions do not include retrieving any newly acquired meatballs from the sauce.
I’m the one wearing the safety goggles, trying to escape the invisible box while at the same time trying to keep the chocolate glaze off of my white gloves. Donut make me sauce you.