Doh Nutz
Truth and fiction at the local donut shop
An unmasked man enters the donut shop. That sounds the setup to a joke, 2021’s answer to a priest and a rabbi walking into a bar. But this isn’t a joke. The unmasked man in the donut shop is real.
“Hey, the sign on your door says you’re closed,” the unmasked man tells the cashier.
“Oh, it must’ve been the wind,” the cashier says. “Sometimes it gets flipped around.”
The cashier comes around from behind the counter, hustles to the door, and fixes the sign. Meanwhile, the unmasked man riffs on the signage by mispronouncing the Spanish word for closed—cerrado.
“Ser-a-dooooooo.”
“Ser-ah-d’oh!”
“Ser-ah-seriously-not-gonna-get-any-business. See, I speak Spanish!”
The unmasked man cracks himself up with that last one. But there’s no telling if the cashier shares his humor because she’s wearing a mask, per local health ordinance.
“I almost didn’t come in here,” the unmasked man says. “That sign could’ve cost you mucho business.”
But now the sign is fixed, and it’s down to business, as they say. The unmasked man orders two jelly donuts. The cashier selects two donuts from the display and puts them in a bag. The unmasked man reaches into his wallet for his credit card.
“Wait a minute,” the unmasked man says. “Fifty cents to use a card!?”
The unmasked man points to a handwritten sign taped to the register.
“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” the cashier says.
“Fifty cents! You guys are making millions on nickel and dime fees.”
The cashier chuckles, but the unmasked man isn’t kidding. The ass-clown really thinks mom & pop donut shops are making millions, and that credit card fees are the secret to their success. He’s is wrong about that, of course, but the fact that his head is full of bad ideas isn’t surprising. I got “entitled racist ass-clown” on my bingo card the moment he did that bit about the Spanish language portion of the sign.
“Do you believe this?” the unmasked man asks.
Aside from the cashier, I’m the only other person in the store. This is my chance to put down my apple fritter and enter the narrative. All I need is a script.
INT - DONUT SHOP - MORNING
MICHAEL is a shockingly handsome man in his mid-40s. Strangers compare his looks to artists like Jerry Garcia, Allen Ginsberg, and Francis Ford Coppola. But looks are deceiving. Michael doesn’t have the soul of an artist, he has the soul of bad motherfucker, and he walks the Earth to right the wrongs of ass-clowns like the UNMASKED MAN.
Michael: You could just ignore the sign. Pretend it doesn’t exist, don’t pay the fee.
Unmasked Man: That’s one helluva an idea, amigo!
Michael: I ain’t your friend, you racist ass-clown.
Unmasked Man: What?
Michael: Say what again.
Unmasked Man: What?
MICHAEL rises from his seat. Immediately, the UNMASKED MAN knows he fucked with the wrong motherfucker. MICHAEL savors the moment, finishes his apple fritter, letting the UNMASKED MAN squirm like a worm on a hook.
Michael: That is a tasty apple fritter.
Cashier (off screen): Thank you.
Michael: Since I’m no longer actively eating, and we are indoors, I’m putting my mask back on. That’s the law in Los Angeles, and despite my gangster vibe, I follow the law.
MICHAEL puts on his mask. Written in big block letters across the mask are the words: BAD MOTHERFUCKER.
Michael: Now, as I was saying, the idea to ignore the sign wasn’t mine. It was yours.
Unmasked Man: Mine? How’s that?
Michael: You ignored the sign that said this place was closed. You ignored the sign saying masks are mandatory. But you pitched a fit about the credit card fee sign.
Unmasked Man: So?
Michael: Be consistent. Ignore all the signs.
Unmasked Man: Ignore all the signs?
Michael: You catch on slow. Let me give you an example. You’re going to leave here, get into your car, drive away. But you come to a Stop sign. What do you do?
Unmasked Man [uncertain]: I stop…
Michael: No! You don’t do signs, remember? You roll right through that intersection. In fact, you hit the gas. Because signs don’t mean shit to you.
Unmasked Man: But if ignore the sign, someone could get hurt.
Michael: THAT’S YOUR IDEA!
Sadly, life isn’t donut shop pulp fiction, and I’m not really a bad motherfucker. Before I can respond to the unmasked man, he pays cash for his jelly donuts and exits the shop with a mangled adiós, free to inflict whatever harm he pleases on society. Not that cashier seems bothered in the least. She tells the unmasked man to “have a nice day, come again.” And she’s sounds sincere! Which just goes to show you that, with the exception of a good donut, life is usually more stupefying than satisfying, and Hollywood endings are always better than the real thing.
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As soon as you wrote “ All I need is a script” and started giving us one, you had me laughing.
But I’m confused. Was the store actually closed when Entitled Racist Donut-eater walked in?