The Destroyer was not warned about gaining his freshman ten with easy access to bagel Mondays, birthday cakes, and leftover pizza from meetings. The Destroyer decides to raise the mean as his way to self-esteem, and brokers a deal with his local donut shop for a standing order. His popularity is unprecedented and he makes sure to serve up pastries without his favorites, the kindness of the damned. The Destroyer does not count on the head of creative services sniffing him out. On the dance floor of the holiday party, he is told I can’t fit into my pants and I refuse to get more. The Destroyer stares into the void of the donut holes and feels a tractor beam of self-loathing, and a maelstrom of anxiety, but he continues his quest to feel the weight of the world disappear.