FADE IN: A STARBUCKS IN MIDTOWN
Ready to order, SHE fidgets on the finish of an unusually lengthy, gradual line, annoying the person in entrance of her. HE turns to her with a withering comment in thoughts, however liking what he sees, says as a substitute –
HE: Sluggish.
SHE: Actually gradual.
HE: Have to be ready for a messenger to get again with the beans.
SHE: Then he have to be coming from the Andes.
HE: Powerful journey for a motorcycle messenger.
She’s laughing now, taking a more in-depth take a look at him; she’s , too.
HE: Juan Valdez in spandex.
SHE: Not a fairly image.
HE: Hey, I’m simply reporting. Proper now, he’s ready in line at Customs.
SHE: I perceive what’s taking so lengthy.
HE: Positive. Poor man is ready for Customs, worrying about these narco canine sniffing his beans, attempting to maintain his leg muscle tissues unfastened so he could make all of the lights on Ninth Avenue — you suppose it’s straightforward?
SHE: Not straightforward in any respect.
HE: Simply so we will have espresso collectively.
SHE: I take it that’s an invite?
HE: It’s.
SHE: You imply now?
HE: Effectively, as quickly as our hero will get again with the beans.
SHE: Okay, positive — I’ve acquired slightly time.
HE: Nice.
The road continues to inch ahead. Now that they’ve formally related, they’re a bit self-conscious. There’s a short silence, which he breaks in pompous tones:
HE: There are some floor guidelines, in fact.
SHE: (undecided he’s joking) Oh?
HE: Initially, no biscotti.
SHE: No?
HE: Positively not.
SHE: (rigorously) Simply espresso, then.
HE: Oh, you’ll be able to eat one — you’ll be able to have six if you’d like — however simply don’t name it…(pretentiously) “a biscotti.”
SHE: Ah.
HE: Name it what it’s.
SHE: Which is?
HE: An enormous, stale cookie. A scrumptious huge, stale cookie, however a giant, stale cookie nonetheless.
SHE: I see.
HE: Let’s have slightly fact in labeling right here. Let’s name a spade a spade and an Oreo an Oreo!
She laughs, is reassured, and relaxed once more.
HE: (impassioned) Let’s name a Fig Newton a Fig Newton! A Vanilla Wafer a Vanilla Wafer!
SHE: You’re the king of truth-in-labeling.
HE: I could also be. The truth is, I’m pondering of adjusting my title to “Tall Lawyer With A Rotator Cuff Drawback.”
SHE: That could be only a teeny bit unwieldy —
HE: Hey, the reality and the entire fact.
SHE: , you actually had me going there — “no biscotti”! I imply, you meet so many lunatics.
HE: (with feigned shock) You do?
She’s getting a bit flustered:
SHE: what I imply — all these he-was-such-a-nice-quiet-boy ax murderers you examine. The very first thing that went via my thoughts was, “Oh, God, I knew he was too good to be true…”
HE: Effectively, I’m flattered.
SHE: (regrouping) Don’t get carried away — you’re not excellent, you understand. There’s that rotator cuff factor –
Laughing, he seems round to see that they’re nearly on the head of the road.
HE: Seems to be just like the beans made it out of Customs. What would you want?
SHE: Black, please.
HE: And? And?
SHE: Oops — a giant, stale thingy, in fact.
HE: After all.
He speaks to the ready ORDER-TAKER:
HE: Two giant coffees, please —
O.T.: Two Grandes.
HE: (good-humoredly) In the event you should, and (gestures) two of these cookies —
O.T.: Two Grandes, two biscotti.
HE: I stand corrected.
SHE: Effectively achieved, Tall Lawyer. You possibly can change the world tomorrow.
HE: I reside in hope. Hey, why don’t you seize that nifty desk over there whereas I maintain this?
SHE: Positive.
She takes possession of the designated desk close by — garnering livid seems from the following six individuals in line — and hears him receiving their order on the counter:
HE: Thanks, and — wait a second: what’s this?
O.T.: Two Gran —
HE: I do know what they’re, I simply anticipated them stuffed up.
O.T.: They’re —
HE: (loudly) To not the highest, they’re not.
On the desk, she overhears the alternate and smiles a bit, ready for the punchline:
O.T.: Look, sir, I’m sorry, we’re supposed to depart some room —
HE: (shouting) You’re alleged to cheat clients out of what they paid for, that’s what you’re alleged to do!
O.T.: (surprised) Pay attention, sir — I’ll simply fill them up and —
HE: Oh, you’ll “simply fill them up,” will you? Effectively, that’s not ok!
On the desk, it’s abruptly clear to her — and to everybody else within the now-hushed room — that he’s fairly severe:
HE: (red-faced and bellowing) The place’s the supervisor of this schlock emporium! I DEMAND TO SEE THE MANAGER!!!
O.T.: Sir, she’s — she’s coming, sir.
As a girl in a go well with hurries towards the order taker’s station, HE turns in triumph to their desk. There isn’t a one there.
FADE TO NOIR.
Picture by Matthew Henry.
Revealed on
