“Hey!” The kid came walking back in with a sour look on his face. He was about 5’9” with slicked back blonde hair and some dumb ass sunglasses on. “You fucked up my drink. It’s supposed to be caramel, this is some chocolate shit.”
“What?”
“My drink douchebag, you fucked it up!” He slammed it down on the counter in front of me, bits of whip cream splattered across my chest. I picked it up and took a sip. It tasted pretty good, don’t know what he was bitching about.
“Nah, this is caramel,” I said. The kid spasmed in what looked like something a cat would do if you dropped it in water.
“The fuck it is!”
“You should really watch your mouth kid. This is a family friendly restaurant. Also at the very least you could spice up your words a bit. Honestly, fuck is just such a boring word.”
“Okay asshole, I’d like to speak to the manager. Does that work for you?”
“Don’t have one.”
“What? You know what. Fuck you.” He took a deep breath then yelled at the top of his lungs, “MANAGER!” Right then an old black lady walked in, looked at the both of us, rolled her eyes and walked out. The kid paced back and forth for a second waiting for the nonexistent manager to show up. His face was growing redder by the second and I couldn’t help but laugh. “What are you laughing at!?”
“Oh come on. You know I’m laughing at you.” He stood dead still, took off his sunglasses and looked me in the eyes. He had ice blue irises and as he stared directly at me his eyelids began to twitch. If he wasn’t such a pussy someone might actually find him attractive. I tried to hold back my laughter but it only came out louder.
“That’s it I’m calling the cops. My dad’s a lawyer and I know my rights. You can’t take someone’s money and not give them what they payed for.” Now I was getting pissed off. This little piss-ant actually thought a couple of working class cops would side with some spoiled rich kid over an actual human being. Not to mention cops have better shit to do.
“Okay put away your phone, you’ve had your fun.”
“Fuck you bitch.” The kid’s voice cracked when he said that.
“I’ll make you a new goddamn drink. Just calm the fuck down and put away the phone.” The kid looked at me and slowly moved the phone away from his ear. Like magic a shit-eating grin appeared where before there was only butthurt.
“Make it two macchiatos and then I’ll put the phone away.” I clenched my fists. Damn did I want to hit him. But he had me in a corner and it wasn’t my money paying for the coffee so I calmed down and said okay.
“Alright just let me go get the caramel flavoring out from the back.” I walked into the backroom while that smug son of a bitch nodded his head.
Inside the supply room little Ronny Gordon was still tied and gagged. I grabbed the sap I had left on the table opposite from him and gave him a good hit across the arm. He started crying so I grabbed his hair and made him look at me. I put my finger in front of my mouth and shushed him, then pulled out the gag. “Where’s the caramel flavoring?”
“Wh-what?” he cried.
“You heard me, where the fuck is it.”
“Same place as always?”
“Don’t fuck with me Ronny there’s a customer out front who wants to call the cops over a messed up order. Unless you want him dead because of your fuck up, you tell me how to make a goddamn caramel macchiato.” Right then the real shit happened, Richboy came walking in the backroom.
“What are you jerking off or some-” He stopped mid sentence when he saw me stand up with the sap in my hand. He looked at Ronny for a second then he looked at me. He did a full 360 and tried to get away but I grabbed him by the back of his 400 dollar shirt collar and pulled him onto the ground.
He cried and he squirmed but it didn’t help him any. I slammed that sap into his face until he looked like Mussolini post 1945. When I was done I did what I should have when I came for Ronny and locked the shop up.
Now I had a dead rich kid and a terrified Ronny. “Why couldn’t you just pay your debts. It’s that simple. When you take a loan, you pay it back. You don’t go blow it all on coke.”
“Please Robert, I’ll pay it back. You gotta give me a chance.”
“Oh I gave you a chance, you fucked it up. Now you’re better off dead.” I reached into my bag and pulled out my .38 S&W. He pleaded a bit more then I pulled the trigger and let his brains leave his head.
When I was done cleaning up the place I set the scene. One of Ronny’s employees would most likely find his body first. He would be propped up underneath the counter with the gun in his hand. The employee would freak out then wonder what the white stuff all over the floor was. He would discover it was cocaine, then he would discover Richboy in the back. Richboy would be clinging onto some incriminating evidence about Ronny’s illegal dealings. It would look like blackmail gone wrong and a coke-head with a guilty conscience. I wiped the sap clean of prints. Grabbed my bag and started on my way out.
Then I saw the drink. I grabbed it and took another sip. It was caramel. Richboy didn’t know shit.
by 
Joseph Stryker
Latest posts by Joseph Stryker (see all)
- Harriet’s Handgun - November 27, 2018
- Blood, Bullets and Burgers - December 23, 2015
- Amateur Outlaw - October 20, 2015
“The kid spasmed in what looked like something a cat would do if you dropped it in water.”
Nice.
Great ending as well.