Why do some loud people think they own the usually quiet coffee house you frequent?
Ever been bothered by a loudmouth barbarian when you are expecting the peace and quiet you enjoy every morning?
Some two-legs are really getting under my fur.
Many of you may have heard me talk about a new coffee house we have been frequently since quitting the garden cafe we with which we had fallen in love.
The old place never batted an eye when Nick and I dropped by for our morning java. We fell in love with the place - it was full of animals and birds. Then all a once the animals and one huge bird who couldn’t even stretch his wings in his tiny cage disappeared.
One morning we arrived, with a bag full of fruit for the mammals and the huge bird in tow, and the beautiful creatures were gone.
We asked about their whereabouts and were told that they were sick and had been taken to the vets. It did not take long before we realized they weren’t coming back and had no doubt been euthanized. They had shown no signs of sicknesss.
Fuck this place, Nick said to me loud enough for the clientele to hear.
We decided to find a new coffee house for our 6:00 AM coffee.
We found a new, quiet, pleasant place near to our house, and every morning looked forward to the serenity.
It was restful.
And then after a few weeks, a new couple showed up. They moved the tables, chairs and the fan around, and the man began to attempt to talk to the staff, patrons and anyone else who might be in earshot - and given his loudspeaker voice - I am positive that people a block away could hear.
No one engaged in much of a conversation with the guy, who I can only assume was a pimp.
I have never seen so much bling on a bald, overweight loudmouth. He’s got to be a pimp. His wife or girlfriend, I’m not sure, sat quietly looking at the same video on her phone over and over, never uttering a word.
Today was the last straw, although we love the coffee and the staff, we cannot take being in the same room with this loudmouth. I’m positive he has been studying Trump. We left before we got to the halfway mark in our coffee, his foghorn voice ringing in our ears.
We got home and sat in silence as Nick demolished a big bottle of Coke to wash down the two Xanax he had grabbed for as soon as we entered our apartment.
Me? I crawled under the sofa, and nodded off to the sounds of silence.
We’re going to miss that place.
#Kamala for President!
#AdoptDontShop #SlavaUkraini #HeroyamSlava
#NeverMetAnAnimalIDidNotLikeExceptThatBigMeanOrangeCatAtTheEndOfTheBlock
I feel your pain Tom. Nothing worse than an obnoxious loudmouth spewing spittle everywhere and sucking all of the oxygen out of the room. I hope you and Nick find another peaceful spot for some Java.
No one engaged in much of a conversation with the guy, who I can only assume was a pimp.
Pimps can afford coffee at today's prices?