text: “Here you are, sir! One dozen fresh and yummy doughnuts! Satisfaction is guaranteed!” “I need milk,” said Mr. White abruptly to the fat and jolly man behind the counter. “Why certainly! Here you are!” The fat and jolly man behind the counter gave Mr. White a large smile and an ice-cold bottle of milk. Mr. White gave the fat and jolly man behind the counter his money and turned his back and walked towards the door. “Thank you for purchasing at Mr. Happy’s Doughnut Shop!” exclaimed the fat and jolly man who stood, invariably, behind the counter. Mr. White remained silent and let the door close with the loud thud of its own weight. His car was white like his name and, like most cars, sat on four wheels. Mr. White clicked open his grimy vehicle and sat himself in the gray and fraying polyester seats. The polyester irritated his skin on contact. He ate his doughnuts and drank his milk, savoring every doughy and chewy bite. Mr. White slowly bit down and let the glaze melt away in his mouth before washing it all down with a sip of his cold and creamy milk. Mr. White ate all twelve doughnuts. He looked into his rearview mirror and had a staring contest with the handgun which sat quite comfortably in the backseat, for the polyester did not burn her skin. Mr. White had a heavy breath after he chugged down the last third of the milk, but he never broke eye contact. “He knows,” she said. Mr. White maintained the staring contest, a dry layer of milk forming around his lips and in his graying facial hair. His bloodshot eyes were locked in place. She spoke again. “Don’t lie to yourself, White” she said, in her sweet and velvety voice. It dripped like golden honey which was freshly scraped from the comb right into Mr. White’s ears. Mr. White’s brow closed in tightly and the wrinkles turned white from pressure. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled. “Oh, I do!” said she in return, lightheartedly, “That fat man figured you out!” Mr. White once again found himself among that mist of confusion, under which he was suffering only hours ago. She was in his head, after all. She had seen all that he had; she had also always been admittedly more intelligent. Perhaps she had picked up on some subtleties that he was oblivious to? He gave in. “Oh, God!” he exclaimed. “He does know, doesn’t he?!” he continued. “Yes, White”, she spoke like a mother who had her child caught in an I-told-you-so situation. “I knew there was something off about that,” he hesitated, “that fat bastard, Mr. Happy!” “Yes, yes, you’re right!” she said to reassure him. Mr. White broke into tears. Once again, she used her luscious voice to seduce him. “You know what we have to do, don’t you, White? You don’t want that pig to squeal, do you? I think you need to silence him. Wouldn’t you agree?” Her voice suddenly became dark and malicious. The car grew dark and he lost himself even further in the mist. He was a man stuck at the end of his own leash. Mr. White’s tears slowly came to a halt and he gazed once more to the backseat. He admired her form. The way her sharp edges transitioned into smooth plateaus of cold metal. He whispered out her name to himself. His eyes made their way to the trigger, naturally his favorite part of her body. When he squeezed her there and felt the rush of the shot, they were the most intimate and he found himself craving the intimacy. “Yes,” she returned to her chipper and positive tone of voice and chuckled. “You know I love it when you look at me like that, White,” she said, seductively. “Won’t you squeeze me just once more? He’s going to tell someone what you did!” He will, thought White. She is right! She had always known better. Mr. White resolved to use her again, it had proven quite effective just a few hours ago, in the dark of the early morning. He grabbed her from the backseat. He hesitated a moment before he opened the door of his car. “Oh, yes, White!” she exclaimed to him, “It will feel so good!” She knew his weaknesses. She had control of the leash, and he was going exactly where she wanted him to. Mr. White stepped out of his rusted, old car and walked slowly back to the doughnut shop. He took short strides and focused his senses on her. The way she felt in his hand was so exhilarating. He wrapped his hand around the handle and his index finger around her trigger. He felt how eager she was as well. Mr. White concealed his beloved, as to not immediately startle the fat and jolly man behind the counter. He stood in front of the doorway and looked into his reflection. His eyes, dyed a deep pink from sleep loss, stared directly back at themselves. He focused his eyes away from the pestering reflection to what stood behind the pane of glass. The fat and jolly man behind the counter had not moved. In fact, he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Mr. White held her tightly behind the safety of his jacket and opened the door. He was welcomed by the ring of a bell and the wide smile of the fat and jolly man behind the counter. This time, however, he noticed the rosy cheeks and the short, grey strands of hair. He noticed the way he bumbled about behind the counter trying to look occupied, despite the unfortunate lack of business. He noticed the humanity of the fat and jolly man behind the counter. “My, my! Have you forgotten something? Did I give you the wrong change? Or have you just come back for another dozen?” He chuckled loudly at his own joke. Mr. White, merely a man whose threads had frayed quite a bit too much, resolved to remain quiet and simply stare at the fat and jolly man behind the counter. “Do it, White,” she whispered to him impatiently. Mr. White began to shake and shiver. “Son, are you feeling alright?” asked the fat and jolly man behind the counter. Once again, his question remained unanswered. The room was still, almost even at peace. The rays of the morning sun sparkled golds and silvers in the dust of the air. The window towards the ceiling was open, allowing a comfortable draft to trickle its way in. The black and white checkered floor was absent of any unpleasantries, just as the counter from which the jolly and fat man stood behind. “He knows, remember?” Oh, how it pained him. It pained Mr. White so to hear her voice, which was beautiful and elegant. Just how he had remembered it. “You don’t want him to tell anyone what you did to me, do you, White?” Mr. White teared up and clenched his bottom lip with his upper jaw. “Sir, do you need my help?” asked the fat and jolly man desperately. “Do it, White. Silence the pig!” She sounded so wonderful, the way she yelled. Familiar. “Yes, my dearest,” whispered Mr. White aloud. Mr. White pulled out his beloved and showed her to the fat and jolly man behind the counter, proudly. The fat and jolly man behind the counter tensed up, barely able to comprehend the situation. He raised his two hands in the air, a beg of mercy. “Don’t you see, Mr. Happy?” said Mr. White, fighting the tears and sobs, “I’ve got to do it! You won’t tell anyone what I did to Mrs. White!” Mr. White laid out three clean shots into the upper body of the fat and jolly man behind the counter. His body fell to ground with a very loud thump, followed by pool of crimson. Mr. White, satisfied, turned and walked himself out of the door, stepped into his car and felt the burning of the polyester on his skin, and wept.