The Maple Bar
Sitting, I gaze upon a warm, thick, raised, rectangular doughnut, smothered with fresh, creamy, sugary, maple frosting dripping down its sides.
My taste buds fill my mouth with begging juices for a taste of that innocent, but deadly specimen. During this time, my nose is overwhelmed with the fragments that is floating in the air, tempting my stomach while it growls and rumbles, wishing a piece would slide down into its empty pit.
The icing cracks and crinkles as it dries. It leaves ripples like the wet sand after the waves have gone out for low tide. My eyes are glued seeing this transform. I am feverishly lusting to devour its sweetness. I can already taste this long, fat, light brown object, though I know it poisons my body with many unwanted calories.
Tired of resisting, my hand slowly stretches outward grasping the gooey bread. I tear a piece of this marvel off. The creamy colored, fluffy inside stares at me as if it were pleading, “Chew me, swallow me, get fat by me.” My body can’t take this torture anymore. The precious piece is slowly ascended towards my craving mouth my shaking hand.
The sweet, flavored morsel is placed gently on my watering tongue. The freshness awakens my mouth as it is melting like ice on a hot stove. “Oh,” my mouth screams, “It tastes so wonderful!” My throat engulfs it and it slides down to my empty tummy and fills it with pleasant pleasures.
I continue to eat this maple bar savoring each bite. Continuing on for 19 more, I sit, gazing upon my full tummy as it grows in size.
This growing occurs because I ate that one, warm, thick, raised doughnut with fresh, sugary, dried maple syrup.