None of them really knew what they were doing.

None of them really knew what they were doing.

But they were paid to work, not to think. So they weren't interested in what was happening around them. They only wanted to finish the work every day and to get home after that,

and then microwave a hot pocket after that, and then scarf it down with carbonated beverage after that, and then not feel full enough after that, and then get a pot pie out of the

oven and begin to rethink my life. Diabetes isn't fun. Although, on the other hand, I would have to ponder the undeniable truth beforehand. The truth that

I was out of strawberry jam now. I tried to face the truth but I panicked and found my diabetic self running screaming and punching walls. I had to

get into shape. Before long I was panting and sweating profusely. I had to stop running. I plopped down on a nearby bench. The sound was deafening. Birds scattered and flew off

my Supersized Big Mac Combo Meal with two extra orders of fries, the largest Slushie they had, 12 mini pies, and an an entire box of Chips Ahoy. Halfway through my meal, the bench

warrant was approved, and a reward of forty-five dollars for my capture was announced over the McDonald's loudspeaker. I stuffed my super-sized Big Mac combo down my pants and

walked like John Wayne next door to White Castle. They never found me. I got away with it, by god! You'll never catch me at Dunkin Donuts, however.