"My good man..."
The pimpley clerk turns to me
and yes, clerk, not barista
"You got faggotry in my machiato, nut just faggotry, but sprinkles, and fuckdust and spirals of sugar! TAKE IT AWAY!" I might have flung scalding coffee in his eyes.
"and not the good kinda faggotry like this-
"
After explaining my love for the kids in the hall, and the lasting cultural relevance, the kid behind the counter continued to scream about his boiled eyes and mauled face.
I think under normal circumstances, he would have thanked me.
This is starbucks after all... god only knows how I ended up in such a god forsaken stinkplot full of would-be hipsters, "screenwriters" and ...oh dear god... chai drinkers!
Oh right...
because no one in Kansas has heard of anything but a creamy double frap mocha latte with triple chocolate shavings, grande, half cream, nonfat whipped spray, light frothy foam, with a dancing whisper of nutmeg, quickorder with a GIGANTIC scone that was flash frozen and shipped from China, it's probably made out of DOG BONES!!!
...
I'm tired of getting weird looks for ordering "a double". Having kids or high priests blow a thick layer of dust off the tome of prices, and realize they're $1.70 EVERYWHERE ON EARTH! and it means 2 shots of espresso, straight up, EVERYWHERE with a fucking machine!
...fuck's sake.
"Your tip was my scalding love." the kid falls into a gibbering heap on the floor, his face is still sizzling, like fresh thick cut bacon.
"Good day sir."
Which reminds me, I still need breakfast
and some coffee.
