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Description
    It seems the world is on a tilt today.  I find that it tends to be, most days, but every time I come here, things are a bit askew.

    Things always seem to smell the same: Strong and rich beans roasting and brewing into the nectar of life, crisp and syrupy sodas being made by hand, sweat and love being poured into every cup.

     I know the man behind the bar, he's pretty much my current deity.  Being much like a god, he can take any appearance that he chooses.  Today he's blond and well tanned... and I think his ears appear a bit lop-sided.  But he gives me my daily dose of coffee, so who cares what he looks like.

    Feeling a bit tired today, probably should have canceled my plans with Garreth.  I've been staring at this damn menu board for about five minutes now, and I can't make out a single item on it.  every few weeks or so the whole thing just becomes a mish-mash of random squiggles and cloudy bits.

    Better keeps things safe and just get a Mug O' Joe.

    The Master of Mocha's takes my order.  I don't understand what he's trying to ask me, his english is garbled like he's been eating marbles.  Communication on a non-alien level just does not seem like an option for me today.  So I just point at the mugs behind him and hold out a dollar.

    One of these days I'm going to buy a fucking translator for these bullshit days.

    I grab my mug and walk over the the Sugar N' Shit table and scan the room for my buddy as I doctor my coffee.  Things seems to be quite busy for whatever the hell time of day it is.  The furniture has been changed again, Still the same musty, vintage, and sometimes itchy sofas and tables as before. They are just in different places.

    Goddamn Garreth has the fruitiest wave I have ever seen.  He signals me from across the room, practically waving his arm out of it's socket.  He looks nice today.  His mohawk has been parted and combed, and seems to have upgraded from leather patchwork jacket to a well cut blazer.  He's even wearing his "Business Pants".  That kid sure knows how to pull off a nice pair of tweed trousers.  Only a man who looks like Kate Moss in a drag king show could look that good.  His slender nose scrunches with impatience as he watches me take my sweet time fixing up my coffee.

    Everyone begins to blur at their edges as I mosey over casually to the cluster of couches in the far corner.  It's darker than usual today, they must be using some low wattage light bulbs now.

    Garreth meets me half may and says "Bitch, I need to talk to you. Now." He grabs my coffee from my hands and winces at it's heat.  He drags me to the couch and gently tugs me down to sit next to him.  Handing my coffee back to me, he limply waggles his hand trying to shake away the heat. Looking at me with pleading eyes, he says "I think the wife is cheating on me again."

    Goddamn, this lady sure knows how to pick em'.

Description
    It seems the world is on a tilt today.  I find that it tends to be, most days, but every time I come here, things are a bit askew.

    Things always seem to smell the same: Strong and rich beans roasting and brewing into the nectar of life, crisp and syrupy sodas being made by hand, sweat and love being poured into every cup.

     I know the man behind the bar, he's pretty much my current deity.  Being much like a god, he can take any appearance that he chooses.  Today he's blond and well tanned... and I think his ears appear a bit lop-sided.  But he gives me my daily dose of coffee, so who cares what he looks like.

    Feeling a bit tired today, probably should have canceled my plans with Garreth.  I've been staring at this damn menu board for about five minutes now, and I can't make out a single item on it.  every few weeks or so the whole thing just becomes a mish-mash of random squiggles and cloudy bits.

    Better keeps things safe and just get a Mug O' Joe.

    The Master of Mocha's takes my order.  I don't understand what he's trying to ask me, his english is garbled like he's been eating marbles.  Communication on a non-alien level just does not seem like an option for me today.  So I just point at the mugs behind him and hold out a dollar.

    One of these days I'm going to buy a fucking translator for these bullshit days.

    I grab my mug and walk over the the Sugar N' Shit table and scan the room for my buddy as I doctor my coffee.  Things seems to be quite busy for whatever the hell time of day it is.  The furniture has been changed again, Still the same musty, vintage, and sometimes itchy sofas and tables as before. They are just in different places.

    Goddamn Garreth has the fruitiest wave I have ever seen.  He signals me from across the room, practically waving his arm out of it's socket.  He looks nice today.  His mohawk has been parted and combed, and seems to have upgraded from leather patchwork jacket to a well cut blazer.  He's even wearing his "Business Pants".  That kid sure knows how to pull off a nice pair of tweed trousers.  Only a man who looks like Kate Moss in a drag king show could look that good.  His slender nose scrunches with impatience as he watches me take my sweet time fixing up my coffee.

    Everyone begins to blur at their edges as I mosey over casually to the cluster of couches in the far corner.  It's darker than usual today, they must be using some low wattage light bulbs now.

    Garreth meets me half may and says "Bitch, I need to talk to you. Now." He grabs my coffee from my hands and winces at it's heat.  He drags me to the couch and gently tugs me down to sit next to him.  Handing my coffee back to me, he limply waggles his hand trying to shake away the heat. Looking at me with pleading eyes, he says "I think the wife is cheating on me again."

    Goddamn, this lady sure knows how to pick em'.