Cruella gets her coffee
They stood in line in the coffeeshop. He glanced at the clock, 645am. Plenty of time.
The woman in front of him stepped up to the cashier, pulling out of her purse what looked like a long supermarket shopping list.
She started innocuously with some pastries and drip coffee. Then she announced she had to pay for each order separately. When she reached her fourth drink, a quad macchiatto with 1/2 a spend a in the drink and 1/2 a splenda sprinkled over the top, I let out an audible sigh. To which, she turned on her dangerously sharp heels and got right in my face.
“Am I bothering you, asshole?”
“Not at all, pretentious coffee gets ordered all the time, but the rest of in line would like to catch the 7:05 train.”
“You’ll wait your turn and not let out your pissy little sighs of impatience.”
“For christsake..” someone behind me in line involuntarily blurted out.
Her two trays of ridiculously specific coffee appeared at the counter, she grabbed them in a huff and headed for the door. I stepped up to the counter and ordered my large drip with room when a terrible scream erupted from outside the store.
The lady who had been before me reappeared, with a dramatic swing of the door, with what looked like a Jackson Pollack splatter pattern of foam, a dash of cinnamon and perhaps the sparkle of splenda crystals down her white blouse.
“Who is the bastard with the small dog outside?”
As she realized it was me, she lunged, baring her fingernail pressons like Wolverine from the X-Men. I stepped sideways from her attack and she bounced off the counter, knocking her head on the register, falling to the floor knocked out cold.
“Well,” said the barista from behind the counter, “You certainly don’t see that everyday. Free coffee everyone, I’ll put it on Cruella’s tab.”
Even better, we all made the train on time.