The Guy From Guns N’ Roses.

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

The Caffeine Machine, despite the huff and puff nature of its name, was a very quiet place. Modern, with aluminum tables, cream colored walls and a tile floor. Posters for Euro genre flicks like Barbarella, Wild Wild Planet and The Tenth Victim added some colorful and campy sci-fi elements to counteract the possibly antiseptic atmosphere.

Lots of brainy men and women from the local design shops hung around. Bone thin and impeccably attired, flicking away at laptops and efficiently sipping at black coffee. The females had cheekbones that looked chiseled out of limestone and the men wore argyle socks that cost in the high double digits.

The Gut showed up before lunch, and he was already angry. His beard smelled like bourbon and he was wearing his fishing hat, to signal to all comers that he was an unpretentious, blue collar guy who simply wanted a nice plain cup of joe.

The Gut complained so much, and used his ‘complain voice’ to such a degree, that his words would slowly begin to mush into each other.

“Ooooooh… I don’t see why I have to order a venti this anagrannythatanaaanyaaaaaaa…”

Today, he was upset about the seating.

“Ooooooooh… I come here and there’s no place to sit. It’s like a library in here, instead of a restaurant. I just wushidinnithavvvvaaaaaaaaaaaa…”

There were six open tables.

“I’m just gonna order a coffee, just plain, nothing special. Coffee. You can do that, right? I’m just gonna sit right here untilit’ssone? Can I sit here?”

“That’s your God-given right,” answered the manager, a young woman who had gone into The Navy right after high school.

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