Almost Heaven

Falstaff the Donut Hustler

You may wonder, dear reader, what southern delicacy surpasses all others? What gastronomic blessing has God bestowed upon us to complement the multitude of other southern blessings? You who are southerners already know the answer. It rhymes with Wispy Dream.

When, on the eighth day, God created doughnuts, he created these. These are not the dry, saccharin bread bombs favored by Yankees and Chicago cops — no! They are one part Carolina sunshine, one part sugar from two hundred year old canes my ancestors planted, one part Dobro solo, and two parts y’all-come-back. They are proof on earth that somewhere in Heaven cherubim and seraphim continually do cry — for wispy, dreamy doughnuts.

Let the church say “Amen.”

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