2/18: Encounter with an Anti-Coffee Gargoyle

On several occasions, both friends and strangers have tried to convince me that coffee drinkers are doomed to a life of poverty and misery. Well, basically.  I read between the lines.

This is a conversation that occurred in a location where immediate escape was not an option:

Gargoyle: “Ooomg, I haaate Starbuckz.”

Me: “Oh, well that’s a shame. I’m rather fond of it, even if the coffee is a bit overpriced. Nice atmosphere.”

Gargoyle: Steps fives inches toward me and unnecessarily strokes my coffee cup. “Is that a mooka er sumthin?”

Me: “Mocha? No, just coffee.”

Gargoyle: “Same shit. Both’er deesgusting.”

Me: “Ok.”

Gargoyle: “Yer all wasting yer money. Coulda drank a gatorade fer cheaper.”

Me: “I don’t like sports drinks, and I’m pretty sure they’re not intended for casual consumption.”

Gargoyle: “I hope yew like bein short cause coffee does it to yuh.”

Me: “I don’t believe it can stunt my growth any more than it already has.”

Gargoyle: “You look perty short ta me. Can yew get yer own cereal from the store shelves?”

As he trailed off into an anecdote about his years as an all-star basketball player, I zoned out hard. The conversation was slow and painful – not even the light tingle in my lips, a sign that the caffeine buzz had arrived, could neutralize my ire. I timed my arrival at the undisclosed location so that my high would kick in as soon as I put on some Ratatat jams, but the pursuit of that small pleasure was now nothing more than a failed moment in history.

Gargoyle: “…so you wanna hang out er sumethin’?”

Me: “Oy vey.” I’m a magnet for weirdos.


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