The Last But One
A short story I wrote awhile ago for a university application. It’s about donuts!
The Last But One
P. Franco
Jeremy and I walked quite calmly into the kitchen, with a certain pain residing in our midsections. On the counter, a box of delightful donuts sat idle, waiting for someone to lift up the lid and expose them to the light. The striped patterns draped across the top and sides played with the sunlight, reflecting those rays towards my glasses, making me squint. It seemed justified that Jeremy and I were poised on the same juncture, with the same newfound ambition in mind. With a gracious movement of my arm, my fingertips danced around the edge of the cover where it overlapped the box. Slowly but surely the lid was raised, revealing the bounty within. However, there the last but sole donut lay mockingly, knowing that our math skills were ample enough to identify the situation at hand.
My eyes promptly darted to align Jeremy’s; our minds keen on the same objective. It would now become a battle of ingenuity to determine the winner of this delectable donut. I could feel my stomach churn emptily, yearning for something edible to grace it with its presence. I’m sure that I could hear Jeremy’s too, rumbling wildly in search of similar completeness.
I averted my gaze back toward the box and its sole resident. I noticed the way the bottom of the box lay stained with the remnants of the sole survivor’s depleted colleagues. My mind quickly jumped at the prospect of leaping across the counter, prying open a drawer and grabbing the closest utensil to leverage an advantage over Jeremy. However I realized that despite the appeal of the donut, it probably wasn’t worth the drastic measure.
Another wild idea came to mind. Could it possible that I offer the donut to my rival for him to decline and reply to my offer with an offer of his own? The risk of allowing such trust in another’s courtesy was too high to carry out. I wanted that damn thing badly now.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Jeremy’s face twitching. I could presume that the identical wild ideas swirling in my head were swirling in his too. It was like him of course to attempt to mirror my own genius. I could recall that a few hours earlier he decided to duplicate my intentions towards orange juice with his now seemingly snide request that I should kindly pour some orange juice for him too.
I’ve always believed in independent thinking, however due to the circumstances, I’m forced to think like him, thinking like me. In essence, I have to perceive the thoughts that he believes are in me. I would compare this problem to a perpetual motion machine, if that sort of device would ever exist.
The exposed box was still there, sitting proudly beneath the rays that gleamed from the nearby kitchen window. I could feel a small drop of sweat assemble at my hairline. It slowly grew until it slid down the side of my face, stopping at my chin until it separated itself and decided to join the tiled kitchen floor below.
I began to wonder how Jeremy was still coping. Was I strong enough to last against his determined demeanor?
Jeremy raised an eyebrow at me to signify some sort of acknowledgement that he would not succumb to defeat. I stared back with a blank look, my expected natural response. A silent stare down ensued, only to be broken by a breeze flowing through the open kitchen window.
At this point, Jeremy’s long hair shortly blew in the breeze. It gave me an unsettled feeling, as he looked like a warrior in the breeze prepared for the fight ahead. Maybe he was stronger than I?
The kitchen window begun to take part in our affair as a lone seagull was now perched upon the windowsill. Its yellow beak was pointed in the direction of the donut box, in the same vein that our beaks were a few moments ago.
The seagull’s wings were now raised as it darted off the windowsill and back to the world beyond petty donut disputes. Its visit was quite the abrupt affair.
With the seagull seemingly absent now, Jeremy and I focused back to the situation at hand. My eyes quickly gave a peek at the clock atop the stove, which read ten past ten in the morning. Jeremy gave a stealthy peek too; simultaneously realizing that what had seemed like hours of fierce mind games was only a mere minute.
A smirk lay on Jeremy’s face now, but was immediately disturbed by the sounds of distant shrill cries. Two sets of ears looked around to locate the source of the increasing noise.
To join the search for the origin of these cries, our bodies out of instinctive curiosity positioned themselves in front of the window with our necks protruding quite nervously through the opening.
All of a sudden, a parade of white shot directly through the open window, making a beehive for the last donut. Jeremy and I were forced to the floor, arms masking our faces.
Stray seagulls enveloped the kitchen, trying to claim ownership of the sole remaining donut. I picked up my glasses and put them on, still laying flat on my back facing the ceiling.
Strangely, despite the fact that a flock of seagulls had just brought Jeremy and I down the ground, I observed the fan above, spinning furiously. However, stray feathers getting sucked into vortex of wind created by the fan swiftly interrupted my observations.
In the chaos unfolding, a stray talon grabbed the donut with a vice grip, forcing Jeremy and I to watch as it hover above. Crumbs fell upon my glasses as the seagulls flew out of the window and into the distance.
There was the last, but one.
Add your comment
You need to login or signup to add your comment to this work.