Our intern entered the training facility an immediately took note of a huge pile of empty Dunkin' Donuts boxes. There were dozens of them, piled up like frosting-coated detritus. The too-sweet smell immediately on the heels of the brisk winter air outside was almost overwhelming, and our intern said it took him several minutes to acclimatize before he could move on.
As he moved down the hall to the main common area, the intern noticed an odd noise. As he rounded a corner, he saw the source of the noise: Joe Allen, passed out and draped over a yoga ball in the middle of the hall. Given the half a maple bar clutched tight in his hand, it looked like the cause of Allen's state was a sugar coma.
It took some delicate effort for the valiant intern to work his way around the collapsed midfielder, but eventually he managed it and continued on his journey. As he passed the bathrooms, he was startled by the door banging open. The intern was greeted by the sight of a very pale Colin Pascoe, too-short shorts and all, who could only whisper "I will never again eat that many bearclaws. Never." He then staggered back off down the hall, only to trip over Allen, who just snored a little louder and was joined in his comatose state by his club's assistant coach.
Our intrepid intern was a little rattled by the events of the last several minutes, but knowing that a big bonus check would be waiting for him when he got home (he won't, but don't tell him that. He still has that adorable thing called "hope"), he grit his teeth and pushed on.
What greeted him in the common room might have been the scariest part yet. There was a stack of full donut boxes, but it was dwarfed by the teeming mounds of empty ones heaped around the room. Out of one of the piles, an arm was sticking out; by the heavy tattoo coverage, it could only have belonged to Daniel Agger. The hand was twitching feebly, as though it's owner had long ago given up hope of rescue.
In a corner sat Steven Gerrard, aimlessly popping one donut hole after another in to his mouth, with a tear falling from his right eye with each bite. He kept mumbling something between each wad of iced dough, and the intern crept closer to hear what the skipper was saying. "Oh you beauty," Gerrard mumbled over, and over. "Oh you beauty." Pop. "Oh you beauty." Pop. "Oh you beauty."
The intern's heart broke audibly.
As he moved on towards the workout room, the intern suddenly found his feet tangled up in something and he fell. Trying to free himself, he looked down and saw Glen Johnson behind the couch he'd just passed, with several boxes of donuts shoved back in the corner behind him as though they were being hoarded. "MINE!" Johnson hissed. "My side, your side, my side your side, my side, your side!" The intern scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could and took off down the hall.
As he ran down the hall, a peal of gunfire came out of the media room. Poking his head through the door cautiously, he was greeted by a terrifying sight. Jose Enrique was parked in the middle of the room playing Mass Effect on the big screen, but that wasn't the terrifying part. In point of fact, the intern rather enjoyed Mass Effect. No, what terrified him was that, while Enrique was mowing down Geth Hunters, Kolo Toure was on his knees in front of him, hand feeding him one jelly donut after another. There had been so many by this point that Enrique's entire lower half was coated with jelly that had dripped out.
Fleeing this scene, the intern finally came upon the workout room. Strangely, the squats cage had been covered and closed in by broken-down donut boxes. Approaching cautiously, the intern called out to see if anyone was in there; sure enough, he heard someone rustling around inside the donut-fort. Suddenly, Jordan Henderson's head and it's perfectly-coifed hair burst out of the side of it. "HI! Did you bring donuts? I love donuts! You should bring donuts! Donuts donuts DONUTS! I just wanna run around all over the field and get more DONUTS!"
This all was too much for the intern to handle. Spying an exit sign down the next hallway, he put his head down and went in to a full sprint for the safety of the outside world. Suddenly, he slammed in to something and fell on to his back. Towering over him, Brendan Rodgers filled the hallway. Actually filled the hallway. He'd gained an immense amount of weight, straining his suit to it's breaking point. The manager looked down at the poor helpless intern and whispered the most frightening sentence he'd ever heard.
"They haven't even sent us the Baskin Robbins ice cream yet."
The intern was never heard from again. This story was recreated by assembling security footage from the facility. His family has still not been informed as to the specifics of what happened for the sake of their sanity.