Leave me the fuck alone.
Caffeinated and annoyed is a bad place to be.
The problem seems silly to be putting it down on a page, but it is what it is.
My dealer will not leave me alone.
Here it is:
I am in my favorite breakfast place, eating and getting my java on.
I have said many times that, as far as addictions go, caffeine is one of the better ones.
Mainly because it is easy to get, cheap compared to other drugs and the acceptability factor is off the charts.
But there is this new waitress in the diner and its slow.
Which means the new girl does not have enough pressing work to do and needs to look busy, but has not been here long enough to know all of the methods of looking busy, so she is doing the easiest one.
Wandering around with a coffee pot, offering refills.
I love that, to a point.
Don’t get me wrong, there are times when its busy that I cannot get a refill and am on the verge of performing sex acts in dirty alleys to get a top off. (Yes, its a stretch, but this is not about you. Put your hand down and shut your pie hole.)
But the new girl, lets call her Bitsy.
Bitsy has so far asked me 4 times if I need a refill in the last 5 minutes.
I do not want to discourage her, mainly because I will need her sometime soon for that refill she is offering.
She has a very innocent look on her face, which either makes it harder to be an ass to her, or just might make it more fun to be a total dick to her.
She looks familiar enough that I have begun to wonder if I know her mother.
Possibly, I fathered the girl. (There are penalties to living in the same town all of your life and being a prolific male slut in your early years.)
And then it hits me.
On my 9th birthday, I received an odd gift from a relative.
A pet rock.
I named it Alfonzo and put it in its little nest on my dresser.
A few years later, in a fit of boredom, I painted a little face on Alfonzo, complete with huge blue eyes.
Bitzy looks like my pet rock.
Its almost spooky, but there it is.
I still have Afonzo, by the way.
He and I have been thru a lot of shit over the years.
I would be proud of the fact that I have kept my pet rock all these years, but the reality of a pet rock is that it is a rock.
To have a pet rock for a long time only means that you never threw it out.
Its not a living pet.
Let’s be real, if Alfonzo were real, he would be dead by now, I am not that consistant with the whole “Daily feeding” regimen that living things need.
Bitsy just topped off my cup.
I thanked her and smiled at her.
In memory of the Alfonzo that might have been.
Ahhhhh, morning coffee.