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I was growing more and more disgusted with the way everyone was ordering their latte. The coffee shop was full of what seemed like robots to me, cappuccino automatons, programmed to carry out a latte-apprehending algorithm, followed by a trip to Banana Republic. God, how boring, no edges, straight ahead. Grande-decaf-skim, latte this, latte that, frappacino, frappafucko, mocha-skim, decaf fuck-anal. “HOW ‘BOUT A FUCKING BLACK COFFEE, HUH!?!!??”

The coffee shop went silent. I glanced around the room at the empty menacing stares and my ire and disgust evaporated. It was replaced by a flowing terror; these people hated me. The barrista took one step forward and hurled an espresso filter handle at my face. It crashed into the side of my head and one of the espresso efflux-chutes opened the skin on my cheek. Before I could feel the pain someone behind me brought a 50 pound burlap coffee-bean bag down on my head. I collapsed.

The gathered crowd was upon me. They kicked my torso and I heard ribs cracking. They rained blows on my skull and kicked my legs. Bruises, blood and I was slowly losing consciousness. Just prior to blacking out I saw the barrista rip a plastic to-go lid in half and with the jagged shard he sliced my forehead open. Blood ran into my eyes partially blinding me. He then dropped his pants, squatted over me and spread his butt cheeks. I have this very sharp memory of seeing his sphincter twitch, pucker and then open like the mouth of a bird, and he sprayed my wounded forehead with a muddy, lumpy splattering.

When he was done, he poured a scalding triple skim decaf latte over his handiwork and then dusted my head with a fine espresso grind. “No black coffee,” the barrista said witheringly with a hiss, “only espresso-based drinks are served here.”

Date Written: July 18, 2004
Author: John Slocum
Average Vote: 4

07/22/2004 scoop: Does the narrator remember, or did he maybe notice, whether the barrista was suffering form a case of "sting ring"?
07/22/2004 TheBuyer: When Pissy Frail Emos Attack!
07/22/2004 Mr. Pony: The narrator's constant use of the word "barrista" made me want to kill him.
07/22/2004 qualcomm: slocum, clearly. always slocum.
07/22/2004 anonymous: What gave it away? The wine?
07/22/2004 TheBuyer (4): Slocum by virtue of the level of violence alone. In fact I'll double down on Willie Nelson in drag and perform a one-man Duet of "I got you babe" as sung by Bob Dylan and Eddie Vedder both impersonating Rich Little impersonating a drunk Johnny Carson if it isn't.
07/22/2004 TheBuyer: damned timing...
07/22/2004 Ewan Snow (4): I was torn on this at first. I started off not liking it, because the starbucks-speak joke is a worn, but I think the fact that the speaker gets the shit kicked out of him was a good idea. Also, considering how many times pooping has been depicted on this site, "I have this very sharp memory of seeing his sphincter twitch, pucker and then open like the mouth of a bird, and he sprayed my wounded forehead with a muddy, lumpy splattering" is a very funny image. Four!
07/22/2004 Benny Maniacs (4):
07/22/2004 Will Disney (4):
07/22/2004 John Slocum: wine
07/22/2004 Jon Matza (4): Yes, four. Four!
07/26/2004 Mr. Pony (4): Everything Ewan said, I happily ape. Also, I reiterate the my dislike of the use of the word "barrista". My blue-collar spell-checker doesn't like it. I think it hurts (or puts a very complicated twist on) the credibility of the narrator.
12/8/2004 John Slocum: Mr. Pony: Barrista!
12/8/2004 Mr. Pony: Barrista.