It was a morning like any other: a long line of morning commuter rail commuters–heads tilted back, eyes on the overhead board, read the list of today’s coffee house specials. Coffeehouse music blares out of overhead speakers, brown colored wooden tables and metal-legged chairs swiftly find themselves plastered over with butts of various shapes and sizes, newspapers, mugs, the occasional ring of perspiration off the bottom of a venti skinny iced mocha cappuccino latte… Yeah, a day like any other.
Angie barks orders, politely, at Lisa who in turns does what Lisa does best: in her unusually high pitched voice, repeats the order with such verve, the line of customers who already placed their orders tilt their heads further back to make sure they ordered the right thing. And, they did. As is clearly marked on the insulation sleeve in pencil, of course, by none other than Angie, the Barista who took the order.
They’ve got a rhythm these two, always have. From when they were toddlers and their single mom besties told them that they were besties too, through college when they found that rooming with each other actually enhanced their sex, ahem–love lives cause they knew how to get out of each others’ way when needed, and to cock or ahem–cunt block when absolutely necessary. Like that time when the Hitchcock twins (fraternal) decided it’d be fun to, you know, share.
Sharing is, in fact, something Angie and Lisa do well, with each other. They still live together while searching, or rather waiting, for that 6’4″ tall, chiseled jawline, sickeningly handsome, blonde, blue-eyed knight in Timberlands to come sweep them (separately) off of their sneakers-covered feet. And, just as the thought re-occurred to Angie, guess who walks up to the counter to extract her from what she has deemed (not so truthfully, cause, after all, Lisa) a loveless life? A 6’4″ tall, chiseled jawline, sickeningly handsome, blonde, blue-eyed knight in embroidered Converse, but that’s fine. One can very easily justify having embroidery on one’s shoes these days as Angie can attest to, being a fashion designer. And, Lisa will agree with Angie on this, being the well-rounded artist that Lisa is.
So, Angie very politely takes the knight’s order with a little more pep in her voice, and a little more flip in her hair flip, and a little more ginger in her gingerly handing back of his change and a bit more oomph in the outlining of her pencil mark on his coffee cup sleeve. Lisa notices all this of course, so in turn, her shrill voice gets a bit more shrill, and her dramatic flouncing around that tiny behind-the-counter space gets a bit more flouncy and the flick of her hand as she lands his cup of caramel macchiato perfectly on the counter gets a bit more flick-y…and yeah, you know where I’m going with this: a line gets drawn; it’s on, like Donkey Kong. Do people still say that?
Anywho, while 6’4″ (an up and coming playwright) sits himself down with his laptop open to a blank page and stares out the window waiting for inspiration to do its thing and strike him already; or basically just knock him over the head with what the fuck to write about, the two best friends: Angie and Lisa, Baristas waiting for love to strike; or basically just knock them over the head with you know, love, give the entire coffee house one heck of an inspired performance.