It So I totally just walked into one of those undercover coffee cafe’s. ☕️
I walked in, realizing after that all the black glass doors and windows, I just might not belong here.
As about 8 men are staring at me I walk up to the counter to order hopefully not my last cup of coffee. At this point, I’ve completely forgotten what I wanted, and on top of that, I have forgotten what I have ever ordered in any café.
I freeze as there is no menu on the wall or anywhere else to be found. Perfect. I’m going to die.
I hear a deep voice behind the counter and I squint to see through the smoke to try to focus since there are only 3 small lamps lighting the entire ‘cafe’.
In his grim, deep, rattled voice (a cross between a 70-year-old Martin Scorsese and Fezzik from The Princess Bride, yes I like him too, but imagine him here okay?) I hear “Help you”? And not just a ‘help you’ but a long drawn out Lurch style “You raaaang” kind of help you.
I quickly look up trying to escape the thoughts of how many ways one can die by an espresso machine. “Um, yes, coffee please”. “No coffee here” he angrily ruffles…. “Espresso only!” “Okay,” I say. No problem. Thinking maybe this makes me look tough and they’ll let me live. Then another question comes. Oh, Jesus Christ! Just let me pay and get out of here! “Single or double” Oh well since it will probably be my last espresso I again, pretend to be a badass. “Double”. I answer.
I feel 8 pairs, nope, I feel, 10 pairs of eyes on me. There’s a man in the corner sitting behind one of the lamps. All I can make out is from the bridge of his nose and down. Strong jaw, stern mouth. No eyes. Just this mysterious half-faced human inhaling on his cigarette. That’s him. That’s the man that’s gonna kill m! Great! Or am I supposed to say ‘finish me off’? Like in the movies. Godfather or Good Fellows, they used those kinda terms. I bet he’s the cleaner! Oh, this is getting exciting! You know, the guy they call in the movies when one does a bad kill job. Think Pulp Fiction here. Vincent Vega and Jules are having a convo about Jules retiring and leaving working for Marcellis…Vincent is irritated at the idea of Jules even thinking this and asks Marvin in the back seat of the car what he thinks of all this nonsense. Marvin states he doesn’t even have an idea on all this bullshit…Vincent is floored at this and turns around with his gun in hand waving it like he’s talking with nothing more than a cigarette in hand, saying “Well you gotta have an opinion! I mean do you think God came down from heaven and stopped BOOM!!! “OH WHAT THE FUCK’S HAPPENING!” Jules is screaming as he’s trying to steer the car straight, Vincent is repeatedly yelling out ‘Oh shit’ in the background. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO VINCENT?” “I shot Marvin in the face…..it was an accident, the gun just went off.” Meanwhile, the characters and the car are covered in blood. Hence, the cleaner!
He pours me my double espresso that looks a bit like tar. “Sugar“? Milk I say politely trying to plan what outfit would match my current hair color in my coffin. He turns to the fridge no bigger than a large Coleman cooler and chokes out a “we’re all out, sorry”. Yep, I’m going to die. This is the place where you walk in and order a grande caramel vanilla latte with whip and they say….”No caramel, no vanilla, no whip”. You don’t walk out.
Suddenly you’re in that dream where you’re running to your car but your car keeps getting further and further away from you.
I ask the sketchy gentleman behind the so-called coffee counter what I owe him “4 dollars” he grumbles. Of course, I have no singles, great now I have to wait for change. I pay with a $10. He opens the drawer by hitting the corner with his palm. Now I’m sure this is a signal for the man in the back who’s waiting to size me up for a body bag, small, please. He looks at me through the dim light and smoke and pulls the money from the drawer never taking his eyes off me as if to say “It’s the cleaners day off, today’s your lucky day. Another day, not so much”. I smile and say thank you, take my change and very nonchalantly try to run for my life without spilling my double shot of God forsaken hot tar espresso, looking fearful of the last few moments of my life as well.
Maybe I need to stop watching so many movies?