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I ate 4 Krispy Kreme donuts this morning. That's really going to throw off my anorexia. I told my wife this. She didn't laugh.

"Don't kid about that," she said. "And no one's gonna confuse you for an anorexic. Not with that gut."

I was confused. I had eaten four times in nine days. I couldn't remember if it was on purpose or not. There were two donuts left. My wife wouldn't want them. She doesn't believe in carbs.

I didn't want the donuts to get stale. I ate them for lunch. They felt like wet hunks of play-dough in my stomach. I wanted to make a mask out of cheerios and a paper plate. I looked for a radio to turn on and ended up in my garage holding 7 AA batteries, a bag of ornaments, and a shovel. The garage door opened. My wife was pulling in. I forgot she could see me. I threw a battery at her side view mirror.



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