The culmination of American consumer electronics: the $130 starch-and-sugar-dispensing “Dough-Nu-Matic,” an all-in-one machine that forms and fries mini-doughnuts in just under a minute. Without too much trouble I should be able to saw off the small plastic catch at the end and position my yawning maw directly underneath, each donut triggering an infrared sensor that activates a motorized belt attached to my jaw. Two jugs will be positioned over my head, one of milk, the other coffee, spraying a constant mist into my mouth to provide lubrication. Every twelfth doughnut will contain a creamy Klonopin filling.
At random intervals, a distant alarm will sound, barely discerned through the waxy lard that sloughs out of my ears, signifying that somewhere a war has been waged, an endangered species has passed irrevocably through the veil, or that one of my countrymen have been rendered to provide oil for my doughnut fryer. Knotted workmen will scamper across my cracking grey husk using psoriatic skin shards as hand holds, as I defecate an ever-spiraling wizard’s tower of red, white, and blue.