“Here’s a gift for you from me and my wife,” Alan said walking through the door with a big package.

I took it from him, surprised at it’s lightness.

“May I open it?” I asked, surprised at its lightness.

He simply shrugged. I cut the string with a knife, and I was staring at the biggest donut I’d ever seen.

‘This is…’ I stopped in mid-sentence. Alan was gone.

Heartily, I fetched a fork and began to wolf it down. I ate for close to an hour at the end of which I’d left hardly a dent in its side.

The donut was beginning to look less tempting. I went out for a walk, then resumed my attack on the donut, determined to live up to my reputation as a donut freak.

By the time I got half-way, I was so sick I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I’m never going to eat another donut in my life.

Most of my writing club members thought this was funny, but I was just being silly – I happened to be seriously lacking in ideas at the time