So there's this guy with a cock suckers grin and the ugliest sunglasses you've ever seen sitting on the sofa you use for your coffee break. You have no idea who he is, why he's there, or why he's smirking at his laptop so hard. Probably abusing the free wifi. That blasphemous mother fucker.
"Caliborn, love," your sister's tying on her apron and frowning from behind the register, "there are kids at the toppings station dumping the sprinkles in the floor again." She offers an apologetic smile while you snap your pencil in half. Fucking fuck of the universe who ever thought this was a good idea to leave unattended children in a you-serve you-top yogurt shop. You're putting the sign back up, Calli will probably take it down but she can rot until then.
You turn away from your blessed couch in the darkest part of the shop and shout as loud as you can as you slam your notebook onto the counter. Calli puts a finger on the corner and slides it closer to the checkout so no one will touch it, and it's one of the only reasons you don't hate her all the time... okay you're not really sure if that's a lie or what.
"All unattended children will be fed to the nearest monster!" You're snatching sprinkle containers out of what looks like an eight year olds hand. "We keep a snarled tooth one in the kitchen for brats like you." You say as you bend down to snatch the other two away from his friend.
"Monsters aren't real." The second little boy says, but he's hiding behind this eight year old kid like you'll stab him with that container of sprinkles if he gets in your line of sight.
You consider doing it too.
But fear is much better than jail time, so you level your features into the meanest snarl you can manage and let your voice drop low as you kneel to be level with them.
"Oh, do you want to come into the kitchen and find out?" Oh yes, the look of children about to piss themselves is delightful. They both run off to their ‘responsible adult’ at the other end of the shop before you can ask what their names are, just for the creepy factor. You won't be getting any tips from them, but who cares. With a heavy sigh you stand back up and set the sprinkle containers back on their stands, this time with the lids closed. You shouldn't be working on your break, you should be sitting on your couch, drawing the customers getting stabbed to death.
But when you look back over, that cartoon looking loser of a cunt-stain is still on your goddamn fucking couch.
You're going to get a broom and a dustpan, but first, you need to go put the sign back up in the window.
Now that the sign is set up, you notice you have been receiving a scolding look from some middle aged windbag for ‘scaring her children’, to which Calli apologizes for and you just scoffed some more. You had to clean up the mess that bitch’s spawn made in the first place, why is she pissed.
When everything is done, you pick up your notebook off the counter and look over to your couch and…
That fucker is still there.
What the ass chaffing shit.
Where does he get off sitting on your couch! He doesn’t even have yogurt! This ass hole is just sitting there, yogurt less, eating up the wifi and invading your couch. Before Calli can even scold you, you slam your notebook back down on the counter and stomp toward him.
“Hey! Fuck wit!” you shout. Several patrons gasp at the use of your language, but you do not care. “Yes, you!” The douche nozzle finally looks up from his laptop and you feel like punching him in his face because who the fuck said he could smirk at you.
“Present?” His voice is pure sarcastic tease. You wonder how upset your dad would be if you committed assault in his shop.
“You either buy something, or you get the taint raging cock of a fuck out.” You jerk your thumb toward to door and hear Calli sigh at the register.
“That’s an interesting one, I’ve never heard it before,” he remarks. “And I would get some, but I don’t know how the machine works.” He looks completely honest from what you can tell with those stupid ass shades on.
“Were you dropped on your head as a child?”
“Caliborn!” Calli’s scolding you from the register and she probably can’t even hear you clearly. She’s just got that sense, the stupid twin thing that you hate and she thinks it’s cute but it isn’t.
“You must have been,” you bark, “because only someone with mush for brains can’t figure out that you put the cup down, pull the leaver, and then add whatever you want on top.” The moron raises an eyebrow at you and closes his laptop.
“Well, that sounds confusing, why don’t you show me how it works?” he asks as he sets the computer on the couch and uncrosses his legs. Oh just great.
A queer self entitled douche bag.
You’re pretty sure you’d rather be back on register duty.