The Authentic Eclectic
The Day My Dad Was Hit By a Little Debbie Truck
When winning the cake lottery doesn’t pan out how you think
One fateful day when I was around 10 or 11 years old I came home from school and opened the refrigerator, and there before me was something I never imagined I would see in my life.
Our refrigerator, usually reserved for boring (to a kid) stuff like fruit, vegetables, fish, and meat, was stacked high with every variety of Little Debbie Cake known to man. I felt like I was dreaming.
If you are not from the south, you might not be acquainted with Little Debbie. She is like Hostess’s sassy, backcountry cousin, with a vast array of delicious cakes that would spike your blood sugar faster than you can say “Nutty Buddy”.
The driver of a Little Debbie truck had dented my Dad’s work truck, and rather than exchange insurance information like normal people, he had done a deal with my Dad that he could have a metric ton of sugary goodness instead.
I don’t know what my Dad was thinking. He probably could have sued Little Debbie, who knows.
I remember how excited I was, it was that Christmas morning/Easter kinda feeling of surprise. My Dad was partial to a pecan twirl, while I liked the…
