we need more sugar. should i close the store to go buy some? please say yes and let me get out of here. sincerely, your indentured servant (and daughter).
I press send just as the bell rings. Great, another customer. He walks in slowly, staring at everything like it’s the first time he’s ever seen a coffee shop. He looks about my age, but judging from the way he walks, he is not mature. He struts goofily over to the counter and leans on it. I flinch. I do not like people in my personal space.
“Hi ma’am. The name’s Rob. Rob Coffeedude.”
As soon as he opens his mouth, I realize who he is and decide to play along. I lean in (much to my discomfort) and motion for him to lean in closer.
“Well, Rob Coffeedude, I gotta tell you something. It’s top secret.”
He raises his eyebrows and smiles, trying to act nonchalant and cool.
“Uh..” He coughs. “What is it?” He asks in a deeper voice.
“You don’t want this coffee. It’s poisoned with… uh…. hydro-calzinate powder.” I smile. Yeah, that seems believable enough.
“Hyrdo-calzinate? What’s that?
“It’s a substance that is only found Northsouth of the boarder of Yabekiazpoasremekia. I tastes great, but it could kill you in an instant.”
“I gotta go tell my parents!” His eyes get wide, realizing what he just said. “Um, I mean, I gotta go eat some calzones!”
“That’s not even close to what you said.”
He stares at me for a second then sprints out without looking back, almost knocking down a statue of my dad made out of coffee beans (yes, you heard that right) and an old man.
I just want to clarify something: I do not give a crap about what goes on here. When my parents opened The Busy Bean, they expected me to fully immerse myself in the business. They wanted me to eat, breathe, and sleep coffee. I mean, they named me after coffee. My name is Kava, which is literally Croatian for coffee. I guess they wanted me to become a person that loves their family’s business and wants to inherit it. I would rather die than become a coffee shop owner. No, that’s not an exaggeration. I have actually thought of faking my death and then moving to Alaska when I turn eighteen in two years. Except I won’t be able to even sneak out to the airport because I always smell like coffee and my parents are like drug-sniffing dogs when it comes to coffee. I don’t even like coffee. I drink water and only water. The toxins in coffee can kill you if you drink too much. It’s like poison. I don’t get the appeal of it, either. It’s just bean water. Tea is just leaf water. And I hate leaf water.