Human vs. Cinnabon
One look at a Cinnabon and it’s clear: these were not meant for mortal man. The food has its own defense system – they’re like the Death Star of pastry. To invade the doughy center of a Cinnabon is to cover yourself with layers of butter, sugar, and frosting – elements that warn you: “don’t do it! Go back! You’ll never survive.” Only a truly skilled eater can get to the middle of a ‘bon without being overwhelmed by guilt or sickness, and I saw two such warriors seated on the floor of Penn Station this very morning.
Amidst the businessmen, linoleum, and borderline homeless, two patriots stood stall. Sat tall. Manned with 64 ounces of Fruit Punch Cooler and nary a napkin between them, I watched this pair fight valiantly against their cinnamon foes. They were man and woman, but were they a couple? I’ll never know. Love was not in their eyes on this day. No, today was a day for war. And war they did.
Undeterred by extra pecan topping and what looked like additional chocolate chips (does Cinnabon offer such a thing? Could they have been so brazen as to bring their own?), the eaters worked with grace. Delicately peeling off each layer of dough with a gentle wrist action that suggested the final stroke of a Renaissance painter, or perhaps a conductor, bringing his violins to a stunning crescendo. Out and up, out and up their hands worked – twirling the bun flesh so quickly that its frosting glaze had no chance to drip. Quickly they’d deposit the prey in their mouths, then swoop in for more to sustain their hungry souls. Soon a crowd gathered, not willing to look too close and risk being burned by the brilliance of their light, but at the same time, unable to walk away.
Merchant of Death
There was a moment, and perhaps this was just a trick of the mind – trying to convince myself that these were mere humans, that they too knew the limitations of mortality, of decency, of pants with an unexpandable waist – but there was a time where the man appeared to falter. He had reached the penultimate rung of his Cinnabon, and for an instant, his progress ceased. A look of sorrow and exhaustion washed over his eyes, and he leaned back to exhale. He then pitched forward, sucking in a deep, almost desperate breath – trying to summon the strength to go on. He looked over to his ally, the woman, and her confidence seem to spurn him on. She was already a bite into the bun’s rich, tender bulls-eye, and was pausing to sip a bright red splash of fruity punch. She tossed the drink aside and dove back into Cinnabon battle, and suddenly the man rediscovered his gait. More frenetic then before, he lifted the entire mass to his mouth and took quick, percussive bites, as a though a baby bird were encountering its first worm. Over the loud speaker a train was announced, and the crowd was whisked off to their awaiting families, never to know the fate of their beloved couple. Would these two paladins master the cake that had surely bested so many of them in their earlier days? They had given up on eating such things, but not our pair. Our pair battled on.
Wuss.
I will tell you this dear reader, I know from what I saw this day that our heroes never gave in. Perhaps after finishing their Cinnabons they said to each other “hell yes, I will get another.” Or maybe, like so many of us, they ate the last bite then slumped over in exhaustion and woe. But never shame. For a hero never regrets. Sadly though, as a man who once fought such battles, I can promise this: The Cinnabon always wins. For if you conquer it in life, it will always best you in death. The calories, the fat, the carbohydrates – tragically, to dance with the ‘ is to die from its clutches. So while our warriors may one day, or quite possibly to-day, pass on, their time on this earth was valiant and true. How many of us can say the same?
Post Your Comment
You must be logged in to post a comment
T/S Members
Log in with your True/Slant account.
Brian. Thank you for sharing this epic tale. I can’t answer your underlying question about valiance and courage in the face of the ‘Bon, I did do a little bit of research.
Those brave warriors were most likely consuming the Caramel Pecanbon: Warm dough, filled with our legendary Makara Cinnamon, topped with pecans and smothered with rich caramel.
One Pecanbon is the warm, gooey home to 1092 calories, 47 grams of sugar and a heart-warming 56 grams of fat…Brave warriors, indeed, my friend! One can only hope they were blessed with arteries lined with the strongest steel.
Katie, thank you for the research. The idea that something that isn’t even marketed as a meal can supply half of your daily calories is shocking. Well, I guess horrifying is a better term, as i can’t say I’m surprised in the least.
i chose to believe that my duo brought their own chocolate chips. If you knew them as i did, i’m certain you’d agree.
In response to another comment. See in context »I have never made it through an entire Cinnabon in one sitting. I am both proud and sad.
Well, Viv, there’s good news. You can you can buy a Cinnapak for your home, so you can eat a case of 6 cinnabons at whatever pace you find most accommodating.
In response to another comment. See in context »Thanks, I think …
In response to another comment. See in context »This story frightened me. It was as if I had peered into the face of pure evil and glimpsed some dark, whirling gyre of death, chaos and phantasmagoric horror, a nightmare vision of mankind’s final hellish, tortured hours on earth. And now I can’t wait to try one of those Cinnabon things!
The Lovecraftian horror of buterycinnamonsugary goodness enthralls another helpless mortal, its glutenous tentacles drenched in the sharp sweetness of a thousand calorie burdened souls. I too have peered into that warm and smothering darkness and now from out its maw I hear the ceaseless cries of the unending thousands who have gone before, clutching their chests and wheezing in tormented agony.
I think this is my favorite True/Slant post and comment thread. EVER.
As I passed back through Penn Station today I heard tell of a proud couple. A pair of humans who waged war against an angry beast, and sadly only one lived to tell the tale. Was it the man or woman who finally succumbed to the fluffy foe, we may never know. There was one thing that was promised me for certain however: the survivor wept when they realized there were no more worlds to conquer.
(ha – i think i like the comments from Lewis and Chris more than my post. and thanks katie! Lewis – i beg of you, don’t do it.)
It’s the Cinnabon mot, Brian. Gets you every time…
As with all epics, this story can be taken in several different ways.
A terrorizing tale of a terrible treat, so grusome that only the greatest warriors can do battle with it, and have any chance of emerging triumphant. Such an awful creation, evidence of a tortured mind, the myth of which was shared for those who seek such tales to share around the fire.
An inspiring tale of brave heroes, who conquer one of the greatest threats to humanity known to mankind. We can only hope to accomplish feats of equal valor in our mere mortal lives, but we can be inspired by the enduring accounts of their noble deed.
A reflection on the dichtoimus nature of good and evil in the world today, how even the most dastardly monster has an equally noble and courageous set of heroes who can go into pitched battle, and emerge victorious. No matter how evil and twisted the foe, an equal opponent exists.
The final interpretation of this enduring story is of sacrifice, and dedication to one’s mission in life. Such bravery, and sense of duty can only be admired.
Thanks Brian for this multi-layered tale, which leaves me encouraged, fearful, inspired, and thoughtful.
Brian,
Until Cinnabon came around and hit malls everywhere, there was always the best cinnamon roll somewhere. Much like settling for Dunkin’ Donuts until Krispy Kreme appeared out of no where and was set to conquer the world. I actually have a health condition where I have to eat a minimum of 5,000 calories a day…good and bad.
I went to bed Thursday night and first awoke Saturday afternoon. Monday, I made it out of bed. Saturday, maybe I was being a little dramatic, but I couldn’t stop moaning and was literally begging God for my life. I had the flu. Since Thursday night, I have lost exactly 30 LBS. It works sort of like this, I eat a well-balanced diet and all the things you aren’t supposed to eat, work-out with weights to put on as much lean body mass as possible. Then, I have a chance of surviving the flu or the next disease du jour.
Thirty LBS. is quite a setback and, obviously, it will take longer to put back on the damn 30 LBS. than it did to lose it. No, it wasn’t just excess water weight. (People ask that all the time, but they are always women. I don’t think men retain water the way women do.) I was told never to eat when you have a high fever, so today is the fifth day. Unless the fever breaks…just lots of fluids.
So, Oprah, if she ever met me, would hate my guts and have no sympathy for me whatsoever. The truth is, I am jealous of her. What it must be like to eat a 99 cent Grab Bag of Lay’s Potato Chips and gain 7 LBS? Everybody at the gym, male or female, has some sort of body dysmorphic disorder and is trying to get below some arbitrary weight and my favorites do it with weights; not cardio. Why do I find them the most amusing? Muscle weighs more than fat, so as they work out with weights and they want to lose weight, they have created a recipe for disaster. They will gain weight, but just maybe they will see the results as a good thing.
My condition isn’t all that rare, but it is frustrating to force-feed yourself. I could easily eat three gooey Cinnabons at once and enjoy every bite. It’s the regular meal stuff that I feel I am force-feeding myself. Snacks and desserts I always have room for. Just like a kid. Great, when I am feeling better I will have to go to a mall as you have created a void only one thing can fill.
Sandy
I too have seen war, and I tell you that here you have captured the essence of that mortal conflict. Combat is a terrible thing to see. Changes a man. Read Katie’s post about PTSD, that might help things. If not, try scotch.
“her confidence seem to spurn him on.” Spurn him on? Best definition of marriage I’ve heard in years. Add the fact that they were eating out, and I feel certain — married, perhaps too long.
No, they were youthful, Vicky. You could could never take on a pair of Cinnabons at an advanced age…
Youthful, or glazed?
[...] Brian Donovan – Human vs. Cinnabon [...]