“Latte for Joe!”
WTF. I wanted a large tea. To go. How can they be so stupid? Looking at him, I reply, “No, I want a LARGE TEA TOGO!”
The barista stood behind the counter, some college kid who has never understood the troubles of wanting one cup of coffee, but knowing you will only be able to brew no less than a half pot. “I’m sorry sir, isn’t that what you ordered?”
I had been trying to wean myself off my massive caffeine addiction for the last several months. It was bad enough that, after 45 years of drinking over a pot of coffee a day, my cardiologist told me that it was not safe for my heart to stress it that much.
Seriously? What idiot thought that stopping the ingestion of an addictive substance that has been around for centuries is better than the absolute fury of withdrawal? I think ‘roid rage is a pussy defense compared to homicide by coffee depletion.
Vegan? I could do that. I might find myself chasing wild pigs to kill them for their bacon, but I would be ok.
No alcohol? I might miss the occasional bourbon, but I will sleep at night.
Cutting out processed sugar? Well, that might be a hard one. I would miss jellybeans.
But Coffee? Screw that. Now, this ponytail prick is taunting me by not only trying to give me a latte, but also by calling me Joe. My name is Steve, you asshole, and I am lactose-freaking intolerant as well!
I wave the kid closer, and through gritted teeth, growl into his ear, “I. Want. A large. Decaf. Tea. To. Go.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry, Joe, I will get right on that. The coffee is already made, would you like that as well? No charge.” he added.
I grunted noncommittedly. The thought of tossing it back in his face crossed my mind, but I stifled it. I couldn’t afford to get into another fight… Wait, that’s it! I was in a fight earlier. Not having coffee makes it hard to interact with other people. That is why I got into a fight. Some dude spilled his coffee on me while waiting for the train. I just left the hospital after treatment for a broken jaw before coming here. The drugs must be wearing off because I was feeling the ache in my face. My cheek muscles were straining against the wires in my mouth.
Shit. What a dumbass. I forgot my jaw had been wired shut to heal the bones. I can’t talk well. I have been screaming garbled nonsense at this kid, and all he could understand from the noise was a ‘latte to go’. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and smile. The ghastly visage the kid saw nearly made him drop the tea.
Reaching for a straw, he managed to regain his composure to ask, “Would you like for me to make that iced?”
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