Got a craving for a cinnamon bun. Got a craving for a cinnamon bun. Hey, that's pretty catchy. I shoulda gone into advertising. I mean, what's more satisfying, editing some piece-of-crap book from the slush pile so some incompetent author can take credit for all my work while 10,000 people read it, or writing a jingle that'll get stuck in 20 million people's heads until they want to scream? Got a craving for a cinnamon bun.
WTF? There's no parking spaces? What if I had an emergency? What if I needed some medicine for my baby? What if I . . . got a craving for a cinnamon bun? I'm gonna run out of gas looking for a space. It's not right that people who shop here once a year take up the whole lot while regulars like me can't get in. Hell they got special spaces for the handicapped, why can't they have special spaces for people who just wanna run in and grab a cinnamon bun? Got a craving for a cinnamon bun. Shit, I can't get that jingle out of my head. Which proves it's effective. Maybe I'll auction it off to the cinnamon bun makers. It's gotta be worth millions. Why am I wasting my time? I've never enjoyed an entire cinnamon bun. They make 'em too sweet, you get icing on your hands. The first bite's okay. The second and you're thinking, I paid three bucks for this hunk of sugardough? You toss the rest on the floor of the car to keep the one you bought last year company.
I'm outta here. I need gas. I'll stop at a gas station with a grocery that even with it's ripoff prices still only charges a buck and a half for a packaged honey bun that's been on the shelf six months. Got a craving for a cinnamon bun. Got a . . .