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Booger Story Random PartsSo, what do you do when you're bored, fried, and tired as hell? I for one write stories about my pets. I can't write well then though, so enjoy the weirdness.
Izzy was an unhappy kitten. He was stuck into an animal shelter by some people, so he had to be crammed into a cage for days. Nobody even looked at him; all eyes were on his sisters and brother. As a few days passed, he grew irritated, and when a human with one of those food-filter things on their upper lips peered close at him, he lashed out and scratched him. The human wasn't fazed though, and some of the shelter staff took him and his littermates into a small room, and closed the door behind them. It was then that he realized the male human wasn't alone, a young and an older female were with him. The male really just sat there, as the older female played lightly with them. The younger female however, was kneeling on the floor, his siblings playing with her. He walked over to the young female and rubbed against her, prepared
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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