Why I Don’t Go to Starbucks Anymore

I don’t go to Starbucks anymore. Last time I went, I ordered a large black coffee with cream & sugar. I had to put the cream & sugar in myself. Makes sense. They don’t know how much cream & sugar I like in my large black coffee. So I order the large black coffee and I stand by the place where they put all the finished drinks and they yell your name and I thought this would take like a minute because it’s a black coffee, but there were at least 5 people in front of me and I had to wait a while because “Tiffany” ordered her breakfast milkshake diabetes desert with cookie crumbles on top that get stuck in the straw and you have to throw it out because you’re not going to degrade yourself and tongue fuck the last little bit of whipped cream and coffee from the bottom, are you? You are? Man…

Anyway, they call out T.R. Hudson, but not really because that’s only my name on TV and since I’m not going to tell you my real name, they call out ‘Rodney’ and I answer to it as I adjust my tie because I adore Dangerfield and this is ultimately a story about not getting respect. So Shandra calls out Rodney and I answer to Rodney but then this douchebag grabs my large black coffee and there’s a ton more people in the Starbucks now and “Rodney” is leaving without putting in cream or sugar because I don’t think he knows that it’s a large black coffee and I’m sure he is going to drink my coffee and realize his mistake and turn around but he doesn’t. He sips and walks faster like he’s embarrassed and wants to get away from this Starbucks and I follow him.

“Rodney” keeps drinking the black coffee. I should have gone back to the Starbucks and gotten his drink and went back to him and drank it in front of him and see how he liked it but I didn’t do that, instead I followed him. I follow him for a few blocks, plotting my big speech about theft in society and how I’m tired and how Bernie Getz didn’t have to put up with this and I shouldn’t either, but I didn’t have a gun and Rodney was a white guy so it doesn’t play the same way as Bernie Getz. I keep following him until there’s a crosswalk and I think about how in Japan, they cross diagonally and that’s pretty cool and they should do that here, but I’m not going to let that distract me. I think about following him home but he turns around and sees me and sees the hate in my eyes and averts his gaze and tries to pretend I’m not there so I punch him in the head.

And I’m whaling on “Rodney” and using his head like a punching bag and his head is jerking back and forth like I’ve seen in UFC fights before the ref breaks it up and calls it a knockout but there’s no ref to save “Rodney” and his head keeps jerking back and forth and he’s crying. He’s crying because as far as he knows he’s just been attacked by a guy he recognizes from the Starbucks or maybe he doesn’t recognize me at all. Maybe he doesn’t know why I’ve beat him so badly. So I ask him, “do you know why this is happening” and he shakes his head no. And I take the half empty coffee and I pour it on his swollen, bleeding head and he screams a bit and his eye is swollen shut and I can’t tell with all the blood but I think I chipped one of his teeth or knocked it out entirely.

I show him the cup up close to his good eye and I ask him if he’s “Rodney” and it turns out that “Rodney” is actually also Rodney so we’re both Rodney. And I ask him if he ordered a large black coffee and he said he ordered a medium and thought he got a lucky break and I laughed because boy, was he wrong about that. So Rodney’s crying and moaning, probably because he just got beat up for taking the wrong coffee and theres a crowd forming now on this busy street, but this is New York and people have places to be, so unless I do something else, people will just go about their business right?

Rodney’s going to be the new Kitty Genovese and that’s fine because I think the guys who did it got away and that will suit me just fine because in this scenario, I’m ‘guys’. I feel a bit embarrassed and Rodney tries to fight back a little, which is admirable considering I’ve beaten him pretty good and he’s probably concussed but he clocks me good and my admiration goes away and swelling rage replaces it and I take him over to the curb and I stomp on the nape of his neck until his head kinda looks like a PEZ dispenser. So now I make coffee at home.