Expensive Tastes
WARNING: Very Minimal Mentions of Violence
After a warm cup of bergamot tea and a session of intense stretches, I am ready to thrust myself back into the toxic cesspool that I like to call "society".
Today I ended up visiting "Honeysuckle", a small café downtown for lunch. Their menu wasn't very large and it hardly consisted of any delicacies that would satisfy not only my stomach but my ego. I decided to stick with an all-bran muffin and a bottle of water to drink. I made sure to specify Voss water but to no avail, the lady behind the counter looked at me as if I was utterly insane. Her petty, hideous face stared with utmost confusion. Gods, what I would do to skin her face right off and feed it to her co-worker who happened to be ten times more attractive than 'Lola'; if that even was her real name.
"Well, Lola." I would say. "Give me your most expensive bottle." By now this seemed foolish and I could tell her co-worker was becoming oddly uncomfortable. I can't seem to understand why. She wasn't the one with the gun pointed at her throat. As Lola handed me a cheap bottle of water, you know, the ones that taste like tap water, I had grabbed her wrist firmly, pulling her into me. My gun had met her throat, almost choking her from how hard I had been pushing Whisper's barrel into her trachea.
"I would advise selling higher quality water." I quickly grabbed my disappointing lunch and left the café.
"Ridiculous."
Days later I find myself skimming through the daily newspaper. Murder, car accident, drug bust, dog learns how to speak, community deaths, prostitution charges, murder, bomb threats. Seems like a good day. I look up to the woman standing next to me.
"Can you believe that, Lola? A dog learning to speak!" I scoff, pointing at the article.
She hands me an all-bran muffin and a bottle of chilled water. Voss.