Fear and Loathing at Starbucks
Posted on 18. Dec, 2007 by nostraboris in Satire
As soon as I entered the crowded patio, I could feel them: The prying eyes of the cheap, unwilling to buy their own newspaper.
Earlier, the sound of my two quarters falling into the slot had alerted the patrons. A wave of excitement quickly spread amongst the crowd of striking writers, lounging actors, hungover musicians and homeless people. Hunting season was open, and prey was spotted.
The expectant gaze of many upon me, I sat down at a table. Before I could open the paper, a guy wearing a bluetooth asked out of nowhere: “Can I see the sports section?”.
Not too long ago, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Until I started getting back a doodled up version of my newspaper, folded up like origami with pages missing, and coupons torn out, if it had been returned at all. Traumatized from my previous experience, I had decided to put my foot down.
“Actually, I’m about to read it myself”, I lied.
As if slapped in the face, bluetooth froze, then retreated. A barrage of disaproving looks was shot my way. The tension mounted, and I was ready. Kurt Cobain was right when he said “Just because your paranoid, don’t mean they’re not after you”. I opened my paper.
Scanning the frontpage. I closed in on a report stating that the LA Times circulation was down about 6.5% to 843,432 daily. On Sundays the paper reported a decrease of roughly 3.4% to 1,247,588 copies. To ensure the demise of print media, operatives were probably sittting in a van outside right now, instructing their scavenger agents through earpieces.
.
I was halfway the first paragraph, when a girl wearing ugs walked up and asked “Can I see the calendar section?”. “NOT RIGHT NOW”, I replied without looking up, raising my voice. Heads were now turning. Hurt, as if violated, she staggered off in disbelief. You guys don’t give up, do you, I mumbled to myself.
Too distracted to read, my mind wondered off. I remembered a documentary on the Discovery Channel. “Vultures have an extra long neck, which enables them to reach deep inside the cadavers they feed off. They have bald heads, because a feathered head would be too hard to keep clean from blood and other fluids”. Shivering, I pictured a bald girl with smelly feet.
I looked around the patio. Except for the occasional hungry stare, calm appeared to have returned. I guess they got the message. Reassured, I tucked the California section under my arm Al Bundy style and walked to the restroom
Resting on about 10 seatcovers, I spotted an article about the housing market. Apparently things were so bad, that realtors had begun to give foreclosure tours. Disaster tourism. Donald Trump offered seminars, educating crowds of aspiring moguls on how to profit of other’s demise.
“Vultures seldom attack healthy animals, but may kill the wounded or sick”, I heard the voice-over say. Bluetooth guy is most likely a realtor, If not an anti print media agent. How loathsome.
As I exited the bathroom 25 minutes later, I noticed agent bluetooth, who was now carrying a copy of the LA Times. In passing, we exchanged suspicious looks.
When I got back to my table, my newspaper was gone.
It all added up. Knocking over several chairs, I ran back to the bathroom and started pounding on the door. “HEY DONALD, GIMME MY PAPER BACK! The door opened, and a frightened coffeeshop employee emerged.
I sprinted outside, and caught a glimpse of the grinning shirt tucker with headset, as he pulled his Benz out of the parking lot. After chasing the car into the street, pleading with bystanders to stop him, I knew I had been robbed in daylight.
Beaten, I returned to the patio.
The expectant gaze was replaced by resentment. “He took my paper”, I uttered, but found no hint of sympathy in the audience.
Then I noticed the girl wearing snowboots in summer was reading my classified section. Like a false Robin Hood, the Trump wannabe must have distributed my newspaper amongst the leeches. Determined, I walked over, and grabbed the paper. A tug of war ensued, until I managed to pry it from her clingy hands. Having lost her balance, she slid off her chair.
Triumphantly, I held up the evidence as the slag lay on the floor in defeat. As conversations halted mid-sentence, I addressed the completely silent patio. BUY YOUR OWN PAPER, PARASITES! Head held high, I walked off.
Later I learned that the Coffee Bean keeps a whole stack of used newspapers by the creamer section, for patrons to read. Who knew?
In the future as seen by Nostraboris:
Having to avoid the place for a while, I will buy an espresso machine. To save money in the future, I will only visit to get my free copy off the LA Times.
Besides from looking ridiculous, bluetooth devices are found to cause flacidity in the reproductive organs.
Finally, the material used for Ughs are found to cause male pattern baldness in women.
