Mr. Donut

I was 16, ( i think? greg...?) anyway, i worked at a joint called Mr. Donut. It rocked because, I went in to work at 4 or 5 am (in those days, not a problem), and was done by 11am. It smelled really good, was pleasant, easy and i got to eat lots of donuts (even though i was tres skinny at the time) My friends swung by at 11, picked me up and we went to the beach all day. Then we would go to someones house (never mine) get "dressed" and go out. I'd get home by "midnight curfew" and repeat.

Anyway, one day one of the dudes who worked in the back (actually making the doughnuts and from greece, with limited english, and smoking hot) starts flirting with me and teaches me to juggle (yes, i still can sort of juggle, but not well). We are using the donut 'holes' to practice our dance. Stupidly we were juggling in the storefront. Unbeknownst to me, some 'regular' snitched and the next day I was called into the office by the greek owner. He tells me, "you think my pastry is some kind of joke? I fire you!, You no work here no more!!!" I start to cry, ribbons of tears. He says. "ok, you still work here." and then he gives me a bag of figs (which, of course i had never seen or heard of before). I get fired, re-hired and a bag of figs.