Mar 23

A pretty girl was standing next to him so he decided to take the plunge.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Uhh.. It’s a coffee shop.”

“Yeah. Yeah it is. What do you want? You want a drink? A cold drink, hot drink, drink drink drink?”

“Nnnnnnnnnno thanks.”

“But you’re in line. Presumably about to order something. I want to buy it for you. What do you want? Tell me what you want. Just tell me. I got this. It’s on me.”

“No thank you.”

“WELLLLLLLLL fuck this!”

That’s how the conversation went. It was a terrible conversation because it was started by a terrible person. That person’s name didn’t matter but it was Jamememranerhr. It was an awesome name. Just so fucking awesome.

The girl forfeited her place in the line and walked away, walked out of the shop and across the street and into another coffee place. Jamamaheher just stood there and watched the whole thing. He tried to catch the eyes of everyone who witnessed the insane interaction but nobody would meet his. Nobody. Everybody was looking away AS THEY SHOULD HAVE BEEN which they were.

The coffee shop was a nice place. It was small, had a collection of art on a wall, hanging beneath words that said “This Month’s FEATURED ARTIST.” Pretty good art for the most part, thought Jamamhaheher angrily. He just didn’t think it was the best. It was okay. Sometimes Jamaheher had opinions about art that he thought were his own but were just a shitty collection of shallow impressions fed into his brain by media and a bad education.

It was cold in here. The shop could use some heat. “Can anyone turn on the heat???” He screamed this. The scream was not so much an intentional thing but more the exhaust fumes of his frustrations over being a complete bumblefuck during the conversation with the attractive girl.

“What can I get ya, buddy?” the counter person asked him in a tone that was not friendly so much as it was angry. The shop had lost a customer because of Jamamehehr. He needed to order his drink and get out.

“Yeah I’ll get TWO coffees.”

“Two?”



“TWO,” answered Jamajeherh.

“K what size ya want?”


“TWO. FUCKING. COFFEES.” Jamamhaehr had no patience. He wanted two coffees. He had committed to it earlier and he would see this through.

“Okay whatever bud you’ll have to leave.” The cashier addressed the next person in line. “Hi! What can I get ya?”

Jamameherhr’s vision went red as if a bloody filter had been slipped in front of a camera. Rage was a favorite emotion of his because his favorite color was red, but he did not like the accompanying feeling that settled into his chest like the anchor of an ocean liner.

“Okay thank you,” he said as politely as he could. He would show them. He gathered his whatever and left the coffee shop. He felt the eyes of everyone. He did not like it.

This was a terrible scene, reflected Jameejerher as he shuffled out into the rain. The rain cooled his angry disposition and it gave him some perspective. Just another failed day, he thought. Why do I have so many of these?

He crossed the street. The end.