Senior Coffee

I went to one of the many fast food restaurants that surround my neighborhood one morning to enjoy some of the discounted senior coffee. I walked up to the counter and ordered a cup of senior coffee and some mini cinnamon buns.

The unhappy server behind the counter grabbed the money out of my hand punched the cash register and then handed me an empty cup, I said to the kid "I guess seniors don't drink much."

Without looking up at me he pointed to the corner of the dining room area while slamming down the Styrofoam box containing my freshly microwaved mini cinnamon buns. With my eyes following the direction his finger pointed there stood an island with an ice machine and a row of drink dispensers and three coffee pots.

Balancing my Styrofoam box of cinnamon buns and the empty Styrofoam coffee cup on the tray I walked across the room to the drink dispensing island. I inserted my coffee cup under the first coffee pot and pulled the handle; the first the pot was empty. I moved over to the next coffee pot and found it was empty too. The third one dispensed some black liquid into my sanitary Styrofoam cup.

The black liquid resembled something I once saw aboard ship; it was called NSFO (Navy Standard Fuel Oil). Unlike the more modern fuels used today called DFM which is refined marine diesel fuel. NSFO is one step from crude oil; it has to be heated just to get it to flow though pipes and hoses. The black liquid that was now in my cup, and NSFO were never meant for human consumption.

It was probably an accident due to one of the fast food restaurant's unhappy employee being engaged in some form of electronic social engagement (Cell phne texting or checking Twitter, Face Book, etc.) while simultaneously engaged in cleaning the coffee pot that caused the employee to forgot to hang a warning label on the pot, "Do not use this coffee pot it's being cleaned".

After a few minutes another angry fast food restaurant employee, a young girl came over and literally pushed past the customers and started throwing things around while in the process of setting up the other coffee pots to brew fresh coffee. There was no doubt that she was very disturbed by the presence of the customers. Today's youth seem to be more adept at interacting with others through electronic social means, texting, posting and selfies; than in person.

I decided not to talk to her I didn't want to take a chance of distracting her; after all, she was already angry and we had one pot with a strange undrinkable black liquid in it. It was obvious we didn't need two more. This is one of the 21st century's mysteries why is it that no one who works in a fast food restaurants are happy.

While the coffee was brewing I decided to spend the time waiting by interacting with real people and walked over and began a conversation with a very nice looking, mature women; who was very much my age or perhaps more experienced in life than I. Just as I started to introduce myself another rather irate woman cut me off and started to scream at me shaking her fist in my face…

What in the world could I have done, I never imagined that old women could get so violent. I was glad I was partially deaf and couldn't hear most of what the women was saying. But, I needed to know what breach of senior social etiquette or faux pas I just made.

Everyone was watching this short, very angry, red haired woman scream and thump me on the chest all the while telling me how she knew that I didn't come here just for coffee, and it was just an excuse.

"An excuse for what; and what do you care anyway…" I yelled back. I was starting to fear that all the good looking ladies of my age who are witnessing this, would think I was a wuss or worse, if I didn't at least argue back with the angry woman.

Thinking about it now I should have just kept quiet. No sooner did I finish speaking did I feel a blow land on my face strong enough to send my upper plate across the room. Polygrip just couldn't hold against that force from the blow, as my upper dentures went airborne they left a trail of tapering strings of polygrip goo from their departure point. They landed on the floor with a bounce and slide, ending up under a table.

Confused, in pain, in shock and now scrambling around the dining area floor, under some very nasty tables trying to recover my teeth; I couldn't believe this woman just hit me that hard.

Now the unhappy manager of the fast food restaurant shows up and asks the woman if she needs help. I am truly convinced there is no intelligent life behind the counters of any fast food restaurant.

The angry fast food restaurant manager is now trying to push me out the door, I'm holding my teeth in one hand and in the other hand my coffee cup still holding the mysterious un-potable black liquid; all the while trying to explain to him that I'm not the aggressor and I haven't even gotten my coffee yet… He didn't care he just pushed me out the door and told me not to come back.

I walked over to my car and opened the passenger door and got in and sat down. I still had the plastic tray and on it was the Styrofoam box of mini cinnamon buns and the coffee cup with the mysterious un-potable black liquid. With my car's door open I poured the mysterious un-potable black liquid on the ground and watched as flowed down hill coming to pool up against a tire of a parked car.

To my surprise after a few minutes of the black liquid being in contact with the parked car's tire it started to smoke. I also noticed the asphalt of the parking lot was melting too. Suddenly a loud boom as the tire exploded and rapidly went flat. I was sitting there in astonishment when the fast food restaurant manager came running out screaming about his tire exploding.

Everyone; customers and employees in the restaurant were at the window watching. Some of them were busy taking selfies with the smoking car behind them, while others were texting to friends and sending pictures of the manager running around the parking lot. Still images and video of the incident showed up on every social media site within seconds, but no one call 911.

I was sitting in my car with my coagulated box of mini cinnamon buns, sitting on a little plastic tray and very empty coffee cup. I didn't take any selfies, or video or text anyone images of the smoking tire, I sure as hell wasn't calling 911 after all I was still without any coffee and I had to sit there and wait for the angry, red haired short lady to come out and drive me home…

Back to the Index of Stories