"You always were a little, baby biter!" Dad said grinning as he put an arm around a nodding Mom.
"I was?" I said, feeling a strange chill down the side of my spine.
"Oh yeah!" Dad went on. "Other parents wouldn't let their babies play with you because you'd crawl over and bite their heads, just like yer doing to Jake."
"Ooh! That made me so mad!" Mom seethed. "I swear I wanted to kick their butts! I mean what'd they think? That you wanted to eat their babies or something!?"
The chill grew deeper. And my stomach started to rumble. And I started to realized...terrified...where this good feeling was coming from. Little Jake...he wasn't a puppy at all. No he was a donut. A delicious boston creme. Sweet chocolate icing...rich custard on the inside...only better. I licked my lips a little again. My eyes starting to water a little, heart beating fast.
"TOO EMOTIONAL!!! GOTTA GO!!!" I announced loudly, as I handed Dad the donut-I mean the baby- and shot out of the room, faster than a speeding bullet. Faster than Superman.
I ran straight out of the hospital and across town to the bakery, where I immediately ordered all the boston cremes they had, and ate each and every one. Once I felt so horribly sick, I knew I'd never eat another thing in my life, I headed home.
...
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