A Spark Of Inspiration
I read;
I read a small book while waiting for my coffee. A quick read by some unknown author. It was hard back and about some space traveler and his alien girlfriend. Yeah, I'm a romantic sci-fi guy. Any way, I look out over my book to people watch for a moment. I'm a quick reader, so in the small while I'd been in the coffee shop I'd already read a good hand full of pages as the slow service created a great amount of suspense over the appearance of my heated beverage. With the amount read I'd decided I'd take a break.
The coffee shop was relatively full for a Thursday morning. There was probably some convention going on at the lodge up the road from here. Something where people wear 500 dollar suits and carry briefcases when really the could have held the single sheet of paper, being held in that faux leather box, in their own hand. They're all only here because the nearest Starbucks is a half hour away. It's not like these people don't have the gas money for it, though.
"Americano, two shot?" A petite woman in short cut off jean shorts and a tight pink woman's polo offers me the drink.
I point to the table at the left of the arm chair I've placed myself in for the perfect view of the coffee house.
I only saw what she was wearing until I lost interest in the teenage girl, which I thoroughly regret. The look on her face in response to my ignorance of her existence must have been golden. With that thought in mind I look back at her and I find her staring at me oddly while holding a conversation with another young woman behind the cashier counter.
I smiled creepily, and she turned around to continue doing what ever her job was.
I continued to look around the coffee shop.
The complete interior of the shop was like a dark cherry oak, and the front of the shop was completely window. I never understood why places did that. I understand clothing stores, for the displays. But who really wants to be exposed to the neighborhood while you're chugging down that 26 oz. vanilla latte as you worry about being late for work? Who wants to be seen shoving that last bit of a doughnut into their mouth when we know there really is about three bites of that thing left? Who wants to be watched at all? The idiots sitting in the window obviously want to be watch, that's who. Idiots.
As I make these thoughts I realize I've wrinkled my face into a disgusted look. So I shook my head and snapped out of it and continued reading my alien smut.
After I'd finished my coffee I ran across the street to the grocery story to check out my luck on getting a job. It had been almost a month now and I still hadn't gotten any calls. I thought I'd won over that old woman at the sub shop, but she's obviously just some foot long, whole wheat, turkey, and cheddar tease.
"If we need you for an interview, we'll definitely call you." The middle aged gray haired man tells me. "I think we've just filled the spots we had open when you gave us the application, though." He sticks out his hand for me to shake and bids me farewell with a two faced, "But I'm sure it would fantastic to have you on the team." He gives me the cheesiest smile and uses his other hand to usher me out the door.
This was where I had reached the highest point of doubt in my system, and started towards the gas station.
"Maxy!" A car makes a joke of acting like they weren't going to stop for me as I made my way through the cross walk. But then the man in the car starts laughing and he lets his head hang out the window, and honks his horn. "Maxy, you old bag o'dicks!" I cringe at the sound of his voice and his vulgar sense of humor.
"I don't even know you." I say walking grievously to the car window. I make eye contact with him and smile to make him think I'm making a joke of not knowing who he was, but I truly have never seen this man in my life. Or I just don't care to remember.
"Rodger! Rodge Dodge Hedge-hog!" He says this like I should be remembering something. Then I remembered. It was the kid that killed the second grade class pet. You want to guess what kind of animal the pet was? Any way, I'm sure he's going to tell me all about his job as a mortician now after that bloody mishap..
"Rodger..." I trail off and look at him like, what's the big deal? "You're doing good?" I look at the car he's driving, and it's actually very nice. It's red, meaning high insurance rates. It's fast, meaning even higher insurance rates. Two doors, want to take a guess at where those insurance prices are going?
"I'm fantastic! I just got a raise at this accounting firm up the river a little ways, and I got me this car! It's a beauty, ain't it?" Rodger talks like he's still in the tenth grade, and we're buddies, and everything is cool. Except it's not, because he asks me, "So are you some famous successful writer now? I don't live in town anymore, I was stopping by to see my mother, that old bag. Tell me what's new with the literary genius of Maxy Short Shorts!" He chuckles and expects me to give him some big story about my book being a best seller on amazon.com.
"I've got a book out, and some other works in the making." I look off as to make him think I've got somewhere to be. I want to tell him I've got to go, but if he see's me just walk off around the corner, he'll assume I don't even have a car. Which I don't. "But I've gotta head in to... The massage clinic." I say looking at the nearest possible place I could be going that wouldn't expose the fact that I may have had to walk there.
"Going to a spa? What a big shot!" He sticks his hand out the window for me fist bump, but I just wave goodbye to him and go inside the clinic as Rodger makes his way out of the grocery store parking lot.
"Can I help you?" The woman at the counter asks.
"No. No, you really can't." I give her a very self-disappointed look and head back out the building to go pick up a job application from that God damn gas station.
The coffee shop was relatively full for a Thursday morning. There was probably some convention going on at the lodge up the road from here. Something where people wear 500 dollar suits and carry briefcases when really the could have held the single sheet of paper, being held in that faux leather box, in their own hand. They're all only here because the nearest Starbucks is a half hour away. It's not like these people don't have the gas money for it, though.
"Americano, two shot?" A petite woman in short cut off jean shorts and a tight pink woman's polo offers me the drink.
I point to the table at the left of the arm chair I've placed myself in for the perfect view of the coffee house.
I only saw what she was wearing until I lost interest in the teenage girl, which I thoroughly regret. The look on her face in response to my ignorance of her existence must have been golden. With that thought in mind I look back at her and I find her staring at me oddly while holding a conversation with another young woman behind the cashier counter.
I smiled creepily, and she turned around to continue doing what ever her job was.
I continued to look around the coffee shop.
The complete interior of the shop was like a dark cherry oak, and the front of the shop was completely window. I never understood why places did that. I understand clothing stores, for the displays. But who really wants to be exposed to the neighborhood while you're chugging down that 26 oz. vanilla latte as you worry about being late for work? Who wants to be seen shoving that last bit of a doughnut into their mouth when we know there really is about three bites of that thing left? Who wants to be watched at all? The idiots sitting in the window obviously want to be watch, that's who. Idiots.
As I make these thoughts I realize I've wrinkled my face into a disgusted look. So I shook my head and snapped out of it and continued reading my alien smut.
After I'd finished my coffee I ran across the street to the grocery story to check out my luck on getting a job. It had been almost a month now and I still hadn't gotten any calls. I thought I'd won over that old woman at the sub shop, but she's obviously just some foot long, whole wheat, turkey, and cheddar tease.
"If we need you for an interview, we'll definitely call you." The middle aged gray haired man tells me. "I think we've just filled the spots we had open when you gave us the application, though." He sticks out his hand for me to shake and bids me farewell with a two faced, "But I'm sure it would fantastic to have you on the team." He gives me the cheesiest smile and uses his other hand to usher me out the door.
This was where I had reached the highest point of doubt in my system, and started towards the gas station.
"Maxy!" A car makes a joke of acting like they weren't going to stop for me as I made my way through the cross walk. But then the man in the car starts laughing and he lets his head hang out the window, and honks his horn. "Maxy, you old bag o'dicks!" I cringe at the sound of his voice and his vulgar sense of humor.
"I don't even know you." I say walking grievously to the car window. I make eye contact with him and smile to make him think I'm making a joke of not knowing who he was, but I truly have never seen this man in my life. Or I just don't care to remember.
"Rodger! Rodge Dodge Hedge-hog!" He says this like I should be remembering something. Then I remembered. It was the kid that killed the second grade class pet. You want to guess what kind of animal the pet was? Any way, I'm sure he's going to tell me all about his job as a mortician now after that bloody mishap..
"Rodger..." I trail off and look at him like, what's the big deal? "You're doing good?" I look at the car he's driving, and it's actually very nice. It's red, meaning high insurance rates. It's fast, meaning even higher insurance rates. Two doors, want to take a guess at where those insurance prices are going?
"I'm fantastic! I just got a raise at this accounting firm up the river a little ways, and I got me this car! It's a beauty, ain't it?" Rodger talks like he's still in the tenth grade, and we're buddies, and everything is cool. Except it's not, because he asks me, "So are you some famous successful writer now? I don't live in town anymore, I was stopping by to see my mother, that old bag. Tell me what's new with the literary genius of Maxy Short Shorts!" He chuckles and expects me to give him some big story about my book being a best seller on amazon.com.
"I've got a book out, and some other works in the making." I look off as to make him think I've got somewhere to be. I want to tell him I've got to go, but if he see's me just walk off around the corner, he'll assume I don't even have a car. Which I don't. "But I've gotta head in to... The massage clinic." I say looking at the nearest possible place I could be going that wouldn't expose the fact that I may have had to walk there.
"Going to a spa? What a big shot!" He sticks his hand out the window for me fist bump, but I just wave goodbye to him and go inside the clinic as Rodger makes his way out of the grocery store parking lot.
"Can I help you?" The woman at the counter asks.
"No. No, you really can't." I give her a very self-disappointed look and head back out the building to go pick up a job application from that God damn gas station.