Encyclopedia Brown and the Donut Dilemma!

When I was in sixth grade there was this huge motherfucker named Tanner (heretofore to be known as such). Tanner was that kid who hit puberty when he was eight and could grow a full beard by 11. Teachers were afraid of him. And, to top it off, he was an assholiolio. That's made-up Italian for asshole.

I was very small in junior high. I was the exact opposite of Tanner. But I was lucky and I didn't really get picked on. I don't know why. I would have picked on me.

Well, one day I had just left the cafeteria where I had purchased a nutritious lunch consisting of a six pack of Hostess donuts. I took the package and started to walk somewhere when I was accosted by that huge motherfucker Tanner. And it was a situation exactly like you'd think. Here I was, this tiny, adorable boy with a grin from ear to ear because I feel like a grown up and I get to eat whatever I want for lunch (except soup from a Thermos), and a guy who looks like somebody's uncle who spent time in prison corners me. I believe he also had a henchman with him as well.

"Gimme a donut," Tanner said.

"Darrrrrrr, yeah. Me want one too," his cohort added.

That was a seemingly reasonable request. That huge motherfucker Tanner and his buddy wanted 1/3 of my lunch. Only one donut each. I was mulling it over when SNATCH.

That huge motherfucker Tanner took my donuts. He started to open the package.

"Fine," I say. "I'll give you each a donut. Here." I put out my hand not really expecting him to hand me the package back, but he actually did.

"Okay, good. One each, remember."

"Yeah. I know." And, in a flash, I took off running. That huge motherfucker Tanner and his thug chased after me and, while I lacked the testosterone that he did, I was nimble and fleet of foot like a gazelle with chapped lips.

I didn't know where I was running, but I was running and they were pursuing. How can I eat my entire pack of donuts without them getting any? I want my goddamn donuts. They're mine, dammit. I looked around and found this old yard duty that everybody called Grandma. Grandma was my goddamn salvation and she wasn't even aware. She didn't even know she worked at a school. She thought she was in a factory putting together airplanes for our boys overseas.

My arms were pumping, my fingers tightening around the package digging into the sextet of preservatives. I could still hear them behind me. Grandma was 50 feet away. I was going to make it.

I stopped behind her and didn't say a word. She didn't even know I was there. But I stared as that huge motherfucker Tanner and his thug stopped, unable to penetrate the invisible forcefield that a yard duty emanates. I was within her protective zone and they couldn't do a damn thing about it. I opened up the package and pulled out a donut. I placed the entire thing in my mouth and smiled at that huge motherfucker Tanner as I chewed. Knowing me, I probably also rubbed my belly as if to say, "Oh, this is so delicious. It's a shame you can't have any."

I finished the rest of the package in the shadow of Grandma. By the way, "In the Shadow of Grandma" is opening up for The Foo Fighters at the House of Blues in March.