*You are walking down Main Street on a bright and sunny afternoon when you see a rain worn sign depicting coffee pouring into what was once a pure white coffee cup. The windows look dingy and the blinds are drawn, but the neon OPEN sign is on, and you can smell the delicious smell of burnt coffee leaking like sludge from the doorway. You pull the handle and the door creaks open. You are blind from the sudden darkness, but you smell a musty odor, and the coffee stench is much stronger. You hear the cliche sound of bongo drums and poorly written poetry read by a monotone voice. Once your eyes adjust to the dank room, you notice the reader is dressed entirely in black, with a black beret and a goatee. He is reading from a dirty napkin. There are several old couches, which you guess is where the musty odor is coming from, and a couple odd chairs with strange stains. The legs of the furniture look like they've been gnawed on. At the back of the cafe is a counter with a large, dusty blackboard behind it listing the drinks they serve here. The server is an older woman with frizzy hair and a filthy washcloth tucked into the front of her black pants. There are not very many people occupying this particular cafe, so you decide to stay a while, since this place is, believe it or not, a step up from the Tiki Bar back at the hotel. You could use the dark quiet. You go up to the counter and order.*
Reply
