National Free Donut Day

“National Free Donut Day!” the sign outside Brewin Beans boldly proclaimed in vibrant orange bubble letters. Strawberry-frosted, glazed and chocolate donuts in perfect shape and form surrounded the letters, highlighting the promise of free goodies and distracting from the fine print, “With the purchase of any drink.”

Cameron gave the sign a nod of approval as he passed by. He stepped a little lighter, mood lifted by this unexpected stroke of good luck. A free donut day was a good day. This was the kind of holiday he could get behind. The kind of holiday that was about giving back to the people.

The tinkling of bells announced his arrival as he was greeted by the thick odor of bitter coffee and burnt bagels. The shop was full of the morning commute crowd who stared silently at their phones, glancing up only to shoot irritated looks at the customers in line before them. Cameron took his place at the back of the crowd and contemplated his upcoming treat.

The best kind of donut was a free donut, there was no disputing that. But prices being equal, no donut could surpass the delectable perfection of a jelly-filled. The jelly-filled donut offered a balance of rich and moist pastry dough with the fresh sweetness of strawberry jelly. The grainy crunch of the sugar coating provided a pleasant prelude to the soft, succulent inside.

Cameron licked his lips as his turn at the counter approached. The man in front of him said to the girl taking orders, “Large regular with a shot of espresso.”

With the excitement of a gameshow host announcing prizes, she replied, “It’s free donut day, would you like a complementary donut with your order?”

“Yeah…” the man surveyed the shelves of donuts behind her, as if he didn’t already have a regularly ordered favorite. “Eh, I’ll grab a jelly.”

The employee took his money and handed him the bag with his donut. The man shuffled down to the pick-up area and Cameron stepped up to the counter.

“Hello, miss,” he greeted.

The girl looked young enough he wondered if she should be in school. Her nametag read, “Ashleigh.”

“Hi! What can I get for you today, sir?”

“I heard it was free donut day.”

Ashleigh nodded. “With the purchase of any drink.”

With a frown, Cameron said, “But a drink costs more than the donut would.”

She smiled at him and blinked.

“Okay.” Cameron sighed. “I’ll take a small black coffee and a jelly-filled."

Wincing, Ashleigh apologized. “Oh, so sorry, but the customer before you got the last one. We have Bavarian creme!” A sad consolation prize.

“Fine.” Cameron slouched, defeated.

“Great!” she chirped. “That’ll be four twenty-five.”

* * *

As Cameron drove he tapped his finger on the steering wheel and thought about the money he had just spent on food he didn’t even want. He took another sip of coffee. The powdered sugar from the Bavarian creme had dusted his jeans in white and he knew it wouldn’t come out till he washed the whole damn pair. And this was supposed to be his day. The one day when the faceless corporate conglomerate of Brewin Beans gave back to the hardworking everymen whose hard-earned dollars fueled their stockholders' big yachts and private jets.

Not far ahead he spotted the pink and orange sign of another Brewin Beans. Same chain, different location, different inventory. He clicked on his blinker and turned into the parking lot.

* * *

“Sorry, sir,” the voice came out staticy from the drive-thru speaker, “We’re actually all out of the jelly. But we have strawberry-frosted! And, uh, strawberry-frosted with sprinkles!”

Cameron clenched his jaw. To his right was a hedge, and a line of cars extended out before and behind him. Trapped as he was, he resigned himself to more disappointment.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “I’ll get a small black coffee and a strawberry-frosted…with sprinkles.”

* * *

Cameron slapped his hands against the steering wheel and his knee jittered up and down as he peeled into the sixth Brewin Beans location of the day. Empty coffee cups rolled around the passenger side floor of his truck. He parked diagonally across a handicapped space and sprung from the cab.

The morning commute was long over now and the only customers left in the shop were retirees, stay-at-home moms and degenerates. Cameron jogged up to the counter, tapping his fingers on the laminate and shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waited for the employee to slowly saunter over.

“How can I help–”

“Do you have jelly donuts?” he interrupted her.

The woman was taken aback, “No, sorry, we’re all ou–”

Cameron roared, throwing his hands to the ceiling. “I have spent all morning and all my money just looking for one freaking jelly-filled donut in this god-forsaken state! What did I do to deserve this? Have I offended you in some way? Have the powers that be at Brewin Beans conspired against me? Is my money, my dedication and my patronage of this store not enough?”

Cameron’s speech was interrupted when he felt a tug at the hem of his shirt. He looked down and was met by the doleful gaze of a young boy with big, brown eyes and a mop of curly brown hair. In his small hands he held a golden, sugar-coated circle. A jelly-filled donut. He held it up in offering to Cameron whose eyes began to prickle with tears.

It was then that Cameron learned the true meaning of National Free Donut Day. It wasn’t about giving back to the working man. It was about community, and charity and goodwill among men. Love never tasted so sweet as fried pastry dough, sprinkled with sugar and filled with strawberry jelly.

Cameron turned to the handful of customers who stared back at him with bemused expressions. He lifted the donut over his head and joyfully cried out, “God bless us, every one!”