In the wake of the 137 words heard round the world, the people found a voice to rally behind. They marched as one to the donut shops armed with nothing more than their refusal to sit back and be lied to about their pastries any longer. Gasoline was sprayed and matches were lit, and before long all that was left was smoke. Then everyone was kind of bummed because with no one to sell them donuts they had to make do with scones (scones!) and the memory of what the dough smelled like when it caught fire. Smelled like...victory.