Glazed Aerobics

Leaving the icy beverage bunker behind, I caught the rich scent of fried sugar drifting from an acrylic pastry dome on the front counter. I shimmied up the tiered wire pastry rack and found a trio of golden glazed donuts sitting beneath the clear plastic hood. Naturally, an undercover mercenary needs core conditioning after surviving that nacho dip extravaganza. I leveraged the curved handle of a stray plastic teaspoon under the rim to prop the dome open, slipped underneath, and used a jumbo strawberry-frosted cruller as an oversized gymnastic pommel horse. Circling my legs across the sticky, glistening glaze, I executed a flawless dismount straight onto a paper doily.