text: Donuts Do Not Die The crotchety old guy settled back down in his over-sized crusty stuffed arm chair pushing the ottoman slightly to the side for now. He jarred another cigarette out of its pack and picked it out with his teeth, flipped his Bic to light it and clicked to a 24-four-hour news station on the large box TV balanced on top of the flickering gas fake fireplace used to heat the enclosed porch. The cold chill still rattled the three walls of windows he peered through watching for them. He knew they were coming. The waning sun was sneaking below the horizon finally giving up any effort to warm the hazy atmosphere. Indian summer was long gone giving in to the soon to arrive winds of November. It was time. He could detect their torches bobbing along in the distance from every direction. They were searching. Knowing the flickering lights from the fireplace and TV would be casting eerie blue images across his sullen features, he figured he might as well give in to the ghosts, and the skeletons, and the zombies. Never any good news on these days anyway. Struggling up from his comfortable corner he lumbered to the switch by the front door and illuminated the interior then checked to see if the door was locked before settling back in for the inevitable. And he waited. He didn't have to wait long. ^**^ “This is it, Grandma! I think this is the one! We found it. Didn't we?” The miniature King Kong squealed. “Well, I think so. It looks very much like what I remember. But it has been a lot of years since...” “I am pretty sure, Mom brought us here a couple of years ago. The porch light is on. Let's go see. Okay?” “But there is an old man on the porch. Someone else might live here now... “Oh, oh. I know you. You're... Bruce. Aren't you?” “Sure am. And you are Tammy. Right? We went to high school together, if I remember correctly.” “Then we are at the right place. But maybe the wrong time. Is... your mother still...” “Yes, yes. She is still alive. I live here now taking care of her.” “She can't possibly still...” “If you are thinking what I think you are thinking then yes. She has some help now days but you'll find her inside. I am only the gate keeper. Go on in the foyer and straight ahead. The doors are closed to keep the cold out and the warmth in. But she is watching for more victims. She is waiting to see you and your big gorilla. She will be delighted.” “Knock on the door, Scooter. You know what to say.” “Don't say my name, Grandma. I am the mighty King Kong!” “Gotcha. You're on, King Kong.” “Trick or Treat!” “Come in, come in,” a frail, shaky octogenarian voice responded back. They open the second door to see a crippled-up hag in a witch's hat and green and white striped long-stockings beckoning them to enter into her lair. She reaches her gnarly long figures for a napkin to wrap up a humongous golden ring of glazed pastry before handing it to the youngster. “Here you are, you Little Monkey.” Her voice quavers. “Could my grandma have one, too, please?” He ventures as he clutches the treasure to his chest over the plastic jack-o-lantern dangling from his arm. “She used to come here when she was my age.” “Oh, no. I, I don't...” Tammy started. “Sure you do, Deary. Here you go.” “Why, thank you so much. I remember how good these are. I can't believe you are still making and passing out your delicious donuts after all these years.” Tammy oohed and ah-ed. “My girls and even my Grandson help me out now days. But I have only missed one year, the year that grandson got married on Trick-or-Treat night, in what, near 50 years? As long as the Good Lord allows, I'll try to keep up the tradition.” Tammy basked in the aroma of the delicacy and the welcoming smell of the whole house still emanating from the kitchen. “Well, God bless you and thanks again, so much.” She directed her grandson back through the double-door foyer to the front porch to make room for the next in line. “Thank you, Bruce. So wonderful to see 'The Donut Lady' is still producing her signature treat. I remember seeing that story in the newspaper years ago. If you don't mind me asking, how old is she by now?” “Well into her eighties. Will be ninety next February in fact. Almost have to tie her down to keep her out of her kitchen. She tends to fall a lot lately so can't be out there alone anymore. But she can't be stopped from supervising the production. Ours still never come out as perfect as hers but we try.” “Still looks wonderful and I can't wait to get home and enjoy this with a cup of coffee. Don't even have to share this saucer-sized wheel with anyone. I never expected to get one myself. Chewbaca, here, asked for one for me.” “King Kong, Grandma! Chewbaca would need guns and you wouldn't let me carry one!” “You make a ferocious King Kong, Little Guy. Don't be climbing any skyscrapers. Enjoy your prize.” He slightly tussled the long fur on the top of the creature's head then motioned them aside as four multi-colored Power Rangers converged on them weapons drawn. “Trick or Treat!” They demanded in unison. “Right through there but beware the witch!” He pointed them toward the inner door as a princess, a unicorn and two fairies exited with eyes as round as the treats they beheld. “Excuse us, excuse us, please.” Bruce held open the porch door to let them pass and as Tammy and her grandson started exiting as well he touched her arm, “Uh, Tammy. It was good to see you again. Perhaps I can buy you a regular sized donut and cup of coffee sometime soon over at Flinny's?” “That would be nice. How about Tuesday at half pass eight?” “Sounds delightful. See you then.” He smiled as he ushered in Donald Trump and Barack Obama. “Right this way, Gentlemen.”