Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Ode to Krispy Kreme
For five years, I lived behind a Krispy Kreme. (Or catty-wampus, to be precisely imprecise.) Oh, those men in paper hats - they loved to power wash at two AM, and drive their doughnut trucks in reverse for what sounded like hours at a time (cue incessant beeping.) And when our parties turned rowdy, there it was...glowing in the night...smelling like sugar and fat globules - and open.
One night a friend even tried to steal a truck, but I'm not spilling names. (Just initials. JP.)
Anyway, it seems that said vintage Krispy Kreme is getting a makeover. I can't imagine how quiet the block is at night. I CAN imagine how nice it must be to walk your three dogs and NOT have one of them pull you across the road for a half-eaten, ant-inhabited doughnut.
Dear Krispy Kreme - grandfather of intentional corporate misspellings - I miss those walks, and I miss that house, and the drunks sleeping behind our fence with a box of glazed originals.