Harold the Gravedigger squinted through the pre-dawn mist. A low, guttural groan echoed through the Davis Graveyard, sending a shiver down his spine. Not the usual mournful sighs of the restless dead, no. This was a sound more…sugary. More…sprinkled. Harold gripped his shovel tighter. The rumors had begun a week ago – whispers of a giant, sentient donut rolling through the cemetery at night, leaving a trail of sticky frosting and disembodied sprinkles in its wake. Tonight, he'd finally catch the culprit red-handed (or, should he say, red-glazed?). As the groan grew louder, a monstrous shape lumbered out of the fog. It was a donut, alright, but colossal. Its glazed surface shimmered under the moonlight, studded with malevolent chocolate chips and a single, menacing gumball eye. A chorus of disembodied moans rose from the disturbed graves as the donut flattened several headstones with an indifferent squish. Harold, adrenaline coursing through him, charged. "Hey, sprinkle-brained...