A Minion’s Guide to Getting a Donut

By Talia Rodriquez

“Supercomputer, notify me when the donuts are delivered!”

I licked my lips as the computer chimed affirmation. Orientation Day was the best. Donuts were ordered for the new recruits, and old hats reaped the benefits. For now, though, I withdrew a file from its stack and skimmed the title.

“Monologue Prompts: In the Event of Hero Capture, Ed. 81.” Really, who’s in charge down there? My eyebrows scrunched together as I slid my finger down the page. Then, I bit my lip. If this was the best we had, Super Scary Overlord would be a villain laughingstock.

I glanced toward the open entry of my cubicle, then blew out a breath and tapped my pencil against my chin. Ideas for intimidating one-liners started to flow, and I scribbled down fuel for long-winded stories. In fact, I so thoroughly lost myself in the zone that the computer’s beep made me jump. “Notification for Minion Jacob: Donuts delivered to front desk!”

Instinctively, I snatched the paper to my chest and scampered down the mercifully clear hall. I’ll be there first. I won’t be cheated out of this.

I grinned and rounded the corner. The coffee bar, laden with enticing donut boxes, was in view when a hulking man stepped across my path. I drew up short, paper slipping from my hand as he turned.

“Oy, watch where you’re going!”

Of all the heinous henchmen to nearly run into… I ducked my head. “S-Sorry, Minion Travis.”

He crossed his arms, then his gaze lowered. Gasping, I lunged for the paper on the floor.

He snatched it first and snickered. “What’s this?”

“Oh, just a… work assignment.” I shoved my hands in my pockets nonchalantly, all too aware of the flow of minions heading toward the coffee bar.

“You write monologue prompts?”

“I… uh, it’s a refined art most people don’t—”

“Of all the idiotic, useless minion skills, you choose monologuing?” Travis smirked. “You know, some of us carry clubs and beat people up. Or heck, even just have intimidating smolders!”

I gulped and tried to put force behind my inevitably feeble words. “Travis—p-please, keep your voice down.”

If anything, he spoke louder. “Some of us actually contribute to Super Scary Overlord’s world domination, but you—of all the pathetic, worthless skills, you chose monologue prompts?”

Travis cocked an eyebrow over my shoulder, and I followed his gaze nervously. Pretty much all of Super Scary Overlord’s minion ranks crowded behind me in the donut queue.

He pushed the paper against my chest and held it there. “Keep your stupid ‘refined art.’” He smirked, all too aware we had an audience. “But save the donuts for the real minions.”

He shoved me out of line.

Sharp pain flared through my elbows and lower back as I hit the ground. I lay there for a moment, winded.

My donut… I groaned and shoved myself up. I wasn’t going to be cheated out—

But my hole in the line had already filled with henchmen, and Travis was collecting his chocolate donut. Before he could add insult to injury, I scrambled to my feet and retreated to the corner, heart pounding in my ears, pain aching through me.

The door beside me buzzed, and recruits flooded the lobby with chatter.

“So, why are the guns fake and stuff?”

The odd question directed my attention to a slightly duck-footed, middle-aged man. Secretary Minion Rosie sighed. “I told you, Minion Joe. Their only purpose is intimidation!”

Minion Joe rocked on his heels, the light catching the top of his balding head, even as wisps of his extremely long horseshoe hairline obscured his face. “I just don’t think your company is set up for success. Now, I have my morals and stuff and won’t be torturing nobody, but if you have built-in weak points in your torture devices, the hero is gonna escape—”

“All right, recruits coming through!” Rosie called abruptly. “Let ’em get their donuts.”

I watched as the minions begrudgingly shuffled back, then chewed on the inside of my lip, mind scrambling. If Minion Joe was long-winded and annoying…

I might have one more shot.

I crossed to the coffee bar as Minion Joe bent over donut boxes. With a deep breath, I eked out my last bit of courage. “Excuse me, Minion…” I consulted his nametag. “Joe Enza?”

“Hmm?” His gaze snapped to me. As well as the gazes of pretty much everyone behind him. I gulped.

“I, uh… I was just wondering how you, erm, came to this company.”

Joe cocked an eyebrow. This wasn’t cutting it.

Surreptitiously, I tipped my paper away from my chest and glanced down. Nerves clawed at my throat as I grasped at the first handwritten prompt I could glimpse.

“I-I mean, do you have anything of a… tragic backstory, you might say?”

I held my breath for a petrified second.

Then, Joe’s shoulders slumped, and his hands slid comfortably into his pockets. “Now that’s a story. See, when I was a child and stuff…”

My eyes wandered toward the donut boxes. Though many minions glared at me, the donut line was, as I’d hoped, at a complete standstill. As Joe blabbed on obliviously, I subtly covered my hand with a napkin.

“… and then I found mice poop and stuff…”

Breath caught in my throat, I darted out and closed the napkin around the deliciously sticky pastry, then slid it back over the counter.

“… and then, I told him that if he was gonna slack off, he could just pay double, and he did not like that.”

I stared at the donut with a sigh of relief. A grin quirked my mouth. I did it.

As I sidled away, I noticed Travis glaring guts and murder at me. Rather than quailing under his gaze, I looked at Joe monologuing away in front of everybody, eyed my donut, then lifted my chin and took a huge bite of gooey, chocolatey goodness.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Talia Rodriquez is a colorful young creative who finds over-complicated magic systems irresistible and plots to be a necessary evil. Though she’s disappointed the Colorado mountains aren’t misty enough to hide forgotten gold, she still enjoys living there with her parents and four siblings. When not studying writing craft in the Author Conservatory, she passes her days sipping coffee, harmonizing to whatever song happens upon her, and falling in love with her own characters.