If 2020 was a restaurant, it would be this cesspool. I haven't been this disappointed since M. Night Shyamalan's Lady in the Water. I haven't been this let down since my mom told me I didn't have a college fund. My husband and I were in the mood for something sweet, so we decided to swing in and give this place a day in court. I was originally tempted by a hot fudge sundae, but the employee informed me that they were out of hot fudge, so I decided to try the donuts instead. My attempts to gain a desired treat were once again thwarted by the Disgruntled Daria-esque character behind the microphone when she informed me that they were out of glazed donuts (come on.) but I persisted and hiked up my already snug jeans and decided on donut holes and a vanilla creme filled donut so I could at least get a taste of the glaze that I was so eager to try. My husband decided to play it safe with a chocolate shake because the annoyed tone of our unwilling assistant seemed to denote that too much effort on their part may result in disaster. She spat instructions to pull up to the next window, managing to convey years of anger and resentment in a single sentence. We looked at each other, our eyes communicating that we both felt the impending doom looming before us. But like the cars in front of us, we soldiered on, hope dangling tenuously in our hearts. The next window held a young gentleman, and we were reinvigorated by the possibility of a friendly interaction. But unfortunately, he seemed to have attended the same school of life as the young lady at the speaker, and we were once again met with disdain and annoyance. He took our money unceremoniously, his demeanor somber and a cloud of melancholy settled over our heads. No worries, we still had the grand finale to look forward to. He mumbled "next window" and slammed the window closed, so we pulled forward again, having been promptly dismissed. The 3rd person shoved our food into my husbands hands aggressively and managed not to say anything at all. The glass barrier in place before we could even utter a word in gratitude, not that we were eager to at that point anyway. Who says thank you to getting treated badly? At least we received our order after all. I peeked into the bag cautiously, trying to ignore the warm wetness, a mysterious fluid that the bag must've been sat in at some point. I ignored the shiver of disgust and pushed down the guesses at what it could be. But then I decided to taste the donut holes first, that was the closest to what I actually wanted to try after all. I looked into the box, one corner of my lip curling up in doubt, and pulled out the confection. I gave it a cursory sniff and popped it into my mouth eagerly. Alas, this night was destined to bring me no joy. No sweet succor within the sugary walls of caloric abundance were to be found here. They were so dry, so unlovingly glazed, that I actually wished I had found some rundown cefco and purchased one of the hardened nightmares that they refer to as donuts instead. That's right, they were so bad I would rather have had gas station donuts. Right about the time I was starting to list off all the events in my life that led me to this sad point in my life my husband turned to me and somehow managed to both gargle and speak the utterance "ugh" around his straw. He forced down his swallow of the concoction and queried "what in the world is this". He stuck the drink under my face, his faced still marred by remnants of his regret. I sipped meekly, not wanting to take the same path as him, but I agreed to this when we stated our wedding vows, so I was left with no choice. My mouth filled with a somewhat cool liquid that I can only describe as cocoa flavored water. I'm hoping it was water, because at this point I wouldn't have put it past the Minions of Hatred that served us to have done something horrible, like pee in a cup and throw a couple of Hershey's pieces in to cover the taste a bit. I finished the process, having come this far into peril and not wanting to seem too weak to finish the task. Thankfully, neither of us was sickened by this heaping cup of sorrow. The creme filled donut was okay. But in conclusion, there is only one reason to risk a trip to this place. If your life is so perfect, so filled with joy, riches, blessings, and magic, that you need some great tragedy to make you feel human again. If you have to resort to enlisting the help of this sad crew to give you taste of the depths of human despair that your life could reach, only then should venture here. I would suggest a tour of a sewer treatment plant followed by massage from Edward Scissorhands before I'd send anyone, even my worst enemy, to this hellscape where dreams go to die. read more
