It was late July or early August 2003.  Or it could have been late June or early July.  I'm not really sure.  At the time I was living above the Donut Connection on Seventh Avenue and Orange Street in Miami Beach, Florida.  The owner Juan Jillian Cruz rented me one of the vacant rooms above the bakery at a reduced rate (so long as I mopped his floors and squeegeed his windows-also at a reduced rate)The room was small and hot but it had a sink and a window and a power outlet I could plug my computer into. 

I had a simple stress free schedule:  I wrote in the early morning hours, slept until one or two in the afternoon and at six sharp I'd head downstairs where I'd mop and clean  'til around midnight.  The Donut Connection was open 24 hours but the foot traffic was less between six and midnight and then it would pick up again at around two in the morning and at this time most of the customers were either drunk or high or just plain pissed off. 

It was the perfect arrangement for me.  Really.  One story idea after another walked through the doors of the Donut Connection and the writer in me was there to pick and choose.  Customers would get into fistfights, there were heart attacks, a few stabbings, some slip and falls and once somebody even claimed to have found a vibrator in one of our famous custard donuts.  "Now you know why they're famous," said Cruz to the individual making the phony allegation. 

Real life really is better than fiction.

The first time I saw Britney was on a CD cover in 1999 (...baby one more time).  I saw Britney a second time in a cable TV special and she was holding a big snake.  The third time I saw Britney she was sitting inside the Donut Connection on Seventh Avenue and Orange Street in Miami Beach, Florida and she was watching me squeegee windows.  It was late July or early August 2003 or it could have been late June or early July.  I'm not really sure but it was Britney and she was looking at me and she was, smiling.

The Donut Connection is open 24 hours a day seven days a week (half a day on Christmas) but our customer base drops off between six and midnight eventually picking up again at around two in the morning and at this time most of our patrons are intoxicated, high or just plain angry.

It was twenty minutes 'til midnight and Britney was just finishing her second chocolate éclair when I went all out writing I Love You on the big window using a urinal deodorizer block (each weighs 4 ounces or 112 grams and they come twelve to a pack).  Britney loved it and gestured with her finger for me to follow her.

Jeez.

I had a simple stress free formula:  I wrote in the early A.M. hours, slept until around two in the afternoon and at six sharp I'd head downstairs where I'd mop floors and squeegee windows and watch.

It was a smidgen past midnight and I was officially off the clock looking for my Louisiana lady and it was right about then that I was grabbed (from behind) and pinned against the closed door leading to the Donut Connection storage room.

"Open it," said my Kentwood gal.

"Britney?" I said.

When I turned the knob Britney pushed me inside and then shoved me head first into a 50 pound (22.5 kilograms) bag of  King Arthur professional baking flour.  The bag ripped open and all at once my angel and I were standing inside our own heavenly cloud (even though it was just flour). Moments later, Britney and your correspondent were making love between the donut glazing machine and the hydraulic model 301 jelly insertion unit.

"I like this," I remember saying.

Immediately afterward the two of us lowered ourselves into a large stainless steel vat filled with fresh custard filling and Britney straddled me and I was submerged under the custard for a very long time while she pleasured herself.

Eventually I was allowed to resurface and when I did she said:

"You're getting soft."  

"I can't breathe down there," I remember saying.

Around two in the morning we headed upstairs to my apartment.  It was nice.  Britney sang  I'm A Slave 4 U while we made love in the community shower down the hall.  She told me that she was in town for a concert in Ft. Lauderdale.  We drank whiskey from small bottles she kept in her Louis Vuitton handbag and then she used my computer to send Christina Aquilera an e-mail.

It was special time for me and way better than squeegeeing windows.  That night Britney told me that she loved me, "Forever." 

At 4:32 A.M. the proprietor of the Donut Connection married us (Juan Jillian Cruz is also an ordained minister). 

It was an amazing night.  We ate a big donut together and we laughed and we hugged and we danced and she sang, You Drive Me Crazy.

Real life really is better than fiction.

At 4:43 A.M. Britney's mother suddenly appeared and   behind the mother was half a dozen attorneys and behind the attorneys was Britney's brother and behind the brother was a fat guy holdin' a big handled Phillips head screwdriver. 

Mrs. Augustinus was quickly escorted out of the Donut Connection and away from me. 

Jeez.

I never saw Britney again (but I still have a piece of our wedding donut).    

Working at the Donut Connection was the ideal situation for me.  Really.  One freakin' story idea after another walked through the doors of that bakery and the writer in me was there to pick and choose.  Customers would get into fistfights, there were heart attacks, a few stabbings, some slip and falls and Britney Spears.

It was late July or early August 2003 or it could have been late June or early July. I'm not really sure, though. 

* A.M.- Before noon  

Britney: If you're reading this please call me.  I want to taste your lips again.  I had our wedding donut bronzed.  Call me day or night:  727-808-2347.