“Between the three of us, we have genius on lock,” said one, and he slurped his coffee. None of them noticed, or perceived even subconsciously, that they were breathing in perfect tandem.
“Oh, yes, we are sure to make this world quake with fear,” said another, and he took a long draw from the creamy froth he had in his cup.
“I agree,” said the third, and he wiped his brow, which was sweating. Without talking about it, planning, or any indication of forethought, the other two did so too.
“So, then, we should begin on the plan—we need to work out how we will rule the world.”
“I agree with that.” Slurp. “First though, I think I need a refill on this.”
“A refill, huh?” said another. Slurp. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I need a little more energy for this—it will get me through the day, I think. Will be good, and grand.”
“Yes, yes—coffee will do us nicely.”
The three men walked out of the room they were inside without a word. Behind them was a place stained brown, soft plops of liquid coming from the ceiling. It pooled on the table and vibrated and thumped in the air conditioning. A few men’s skeletons sat in chairs and open-mouth gaped at nothing.
“I think today is a lovely day,” said one of the trio, as the air moved around and danced. It was a cold day, and cars rushed by, and to the three of them, it was all a color blur and a rush of sounds and sensations.
“Oh yes, super lovely.”
“I have never had a lovelier day than this—not a one.”
“Oh, yes—I so much agree it is scary.”
Clicking footfalls sounded; they entered a coffee chain restaurant. None of the other patrons of the establishment paid them much mind.
The trio was quite aware of the other patrons.
“Oh, that is a lot of coffee.”
“Yes—wasted on these people I’d say. Utterly wasted.”
“What can I get you gentleman?” asked an older woman on the other side of the counter. She had curly hair and a big pink hair band.
The three men looked at each other. They intoned the words in a vocal pitch that sounded a tad too deep for a normal person.
The woman only laughed. When no further words came from the three, she frowned slightly. “Um, well, we’ve got that. What kind of coffee would you want? We have this new espresso with caramel added—”
“Coffee we desire!” They all stepped closer, their eyes a muddy brown. The other customers, gradually, looked up as the three men hummed and vibrated and stalked inches forward toward the woman, who was growing increasingly concerned.
“Please sirs, calm down…”
As one, their hands shot up and nails grew long and yellowing. “This is coffee time.”
“Help,” the woman yelled, and a few people—one though faster than the others—got up to their feet and moved forward to stop the strange crazy people.
Howard, a braver man than some, with barely a moment to process it, had his throat ceased by the closest of the three and his body thrown straight upward into the ceiling. Rather than fall, he stuck there and gasped in pain. At his stomach, like a hole from a bullet wound, he dripped coffee. Leaking through his belly-button and then out of his throat and finally dripping from the entire outer-rim of his eyeballs.
The three men sniffed and opened their mouth to jutting diamond-like tongues. Little needle-like things—almost like straws. “This place is full of coffee. This is a good place for a coffee break. This is a place where I desire much cream and sugar.”
Screams echoed, but a hum overtook the building, and the doors refused to open, even as a rather muscular man and a large woman both slammed into the glass repeatedly, desperate and afraid.
The muscle man sputtered though and stopped. His nose leaked out coffee and his teeth popped out of his mouth as the gums spewed forth gallons of coffee. He fell over, as everyone else, one by one, took a coffee break from life itself.
Special thanks to: Bob Gerkin, Collin Pearman, Dylan Alexander, Jerry Banfield, and Michael The Comic Nerd.
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