Every morning at 6:45am when I go to get coffee before work, I see this weird bald dude wearing sunglasses in the coffee shop reading the paper. He bears an uncanny resemblance to Dr. Finklestein in that one Tim Burton movie. You know, that one that Hot Topic is basically an exclusive storefront for.He's as much of a fixture there as the chairs and tables. As I walk in, here's usually what goes down in my head: Hi CityPages rack. Hi book trading shelf. Hi mixing station. Hi Weird Bald Guy Reading Paper. Hi bakery case... And then I arrive at the counter to greet the barista and place my order.
He's there every morning that I go in, and I've gone in several hours after 6:45am on occasion and he's still there. Sitting on the sofa as if he has grown onto it, legs crossed, sunglasses on, reading the paper.
Why the sunglasses at 6:45am? Me no understand. Is he in the Paul Shaffer Club? The more I look at him, the more it doesnt really look like he's reading the paper. I'm starting to wonder if he has no eyes at all. What if he's a robot sent down by the aliens and has been stationed there? What if instead of eyeballs, there are cameras installed in his eye sockets and he's recording my every move and all of my coffee drinking habits? And the newspaper? What if it's a communication device where he's able to project what he's filming onto the newspaper via his special sunglasses? And the newspaper in turn sends the images up to a satellite where the aliens study us?
I had better change my coffee drinking habits, just to throw a wrench into their plan, whatever that plan may be. Instead of an iced mocha, I'm getting a soy latte next time. And I'm going to ask them to crush up a day-old scone and put it in the cup first then make the latte and put it in said cup.
I just want to see if this will get a rise out of Dr. Finklestein. As I place my order, I will be sure to say it very loudly so he hears me. Then as I pretend to look at the shelf of board games while waiting, I will peep over at him to see if he nervously adjusts his newspaper, talks into a microphone in his sleeve.. you know. Any sort of signal that might tell me he's on to my change in behavior and reporting this to the Mother Ship. And the next day if he's not there? Likely means I scared him off.
That said, my soy latte I'm going to order with a crushed up day-old scone in it could very well be saving the world from extraterrestrial domination.*
Just in case, I'll just say this ahead of time: You're welcome.
* I'll be damned if that sentence just didn't make me sound like the world's biggest fucking nerd..
