By Hannah Avrith
LOS ANGELES, CA – Alright. Listen. I am well aware of how effective and important unions are to protect the rights of workers, but if those lazy fucks don’t start using the vanilla pump once in a while their paychecks will be fed to shredders.
I have been CONSISTENTLY burned by the Birnkrant Starbucks; their ill will against me manifests in handing me a “grande soy latte”. Are they even grateful for the extra 2 dollars an hour they earn off the backs of hard working voters like me?
Now I don’t want to be a “party pooper”, but mark my words, Starbucks. If you don’t start putting a little elbow grease into making my drink, I’ll be seeing your sorry asses in court. Not to name names, but especially you, “Barista” John. This is your final warning; the next time I have to awkwardly pause and slowly enunciate “vanilla” will be the last.
Actually, don’t think you’re getting off that easy, “Barista” John. Honestly, I’m offended you might have any dental coverage. I’d like to think I’m a pretty nice guy, but I say something when I don’t taste something, and I will say it to the entire store repeatedly. I remember during our first bout you offered to “remake the drink for me” and apologized. Does one simply offer to repaint the Mona Lisa after pissing on it? John, our final battle will be fierce and bloody. When I go to sleep I have dreams of the two of us atop a great mountain at dawn. We are naked and gleaming in sweat, a dagger tightly brandished in our hands. In those dreams we fight like wild animals, and each rip of blade against flesh only fuels greater bloodlust. Use that partial dental coverage to replace the teeth I’m going to partially fucking knock out.
Anyway, the point is I’ve been speaking to the manager over the phone while writing this article. That’s right John, you sorry sap. Your greasy hands will never defile those sacred cardstock cups again, leaving traces of your paid sick leave grandeur. I writhe in delight imagining your chapped lips hanging agape, eyes bulging, when you learn your lunch breaks have been shortened to a claustrophobic 10 minutes. I hope you picture me in your mind, smiling with clenched teeth, and I hope you feel the beast inside claw at your organs, yearning to tear me to ribbons. Also, if you have a sugar free vanilla option I kind of want that because I think the regular vanilla is giving me stomach aches.