It was a typical Tuesday morning when the unthinkable happened. Donuts, those sweet, fluffy abominations of sugar and fat, began pouring out of the sky.
At first, it was just a trickle. A few dozen donuts per minute. But soon, the deluge was upon us. Donuts of every shape and size, each one more tantalizing than the last.
We tried to fight it, but the donuts just kept coming. They clogged the streets, jammed the roads, and made our lives a living hell.
And yet, as we stood there, waist-deep in donuts, something strange happened. We forgot what was at stake. We forgot the impending doom of being covered in powdered sugar and glazes.
And so, we succumbed to the donuts. We ate, we laughed, and we cried. For in that moment, the world was a sweet, sweet place.
Day 1 of the donut flood was a day of chaos and destruction. Donuts were everywhere. They covered the streets, they filled the parks, and they even invaded our homes.
We tried to hold the line, but it was a losing battle. The donuts just kept coming, each one a reminder that we were no match for their sugary onslaught.
Day 2 of the donut flood was a day of reckoning. We realized, perhaps, that we'd made a mistake in trying to fight the donuts. Maybe it was time to just roll with it.
We started to organize the donuts. We made piles, we built castles, and we even started a donut-themed art movement.
Read more about the Great Donut Relocation of 2024 Learn about the International Donut Summit of 2023 Discover how we're rebuilding from the Great Donut Disaster of 2023